Chapter 15
Zafir paced in front of me. An intimidatingly high stack of scrolls and ledgers sat between us, ink still glistening on the topmost paper.
“This isn’t about simply fooling Julian anymore,” he said. “In order to masquerade as nobility, you’ll need to fool Parliament, and take it from me, they are a suspicious nest of bureaucrats. They’ll be sure to question you. If even one of them doubts you, they’ll destroy you.”
A slight shudder ran through my body. “You make it sound so cheerful.”
“I’m not in the business of being cheerful.
” He unfurled a parchment with deliberate slowness to reveal a sprawling family tree.
“Here’s your new ancestry. You are Her Grace Alia of House Devraine, Duchess of the Western Marshes in Brisden.
You were widowed young, inheriting your late husband’s estates and title.
Your coat of arms is a silver wolf head over a vineyard.
The house motto is ‘Strength through grace.’ Memorize it. ”
I blinked at him. “Did you just make all that up?”
“I did.” His eyebrow arched upward again. “A good lie is always built on the bones of truth.”
I narrowed my eyes and touched where the truth serum was still in my pocket. “Are you very good at lying, then?”
His thin mouth curled into a smile. “Naturally. How do you think I got to be a vizier at such a young age?” He flipped the family tree over. “Now. What was your husband’s title?”
“His Grace the Duke of Devraine.”
“Good. And where did you live?”
“The Devraine Estate in the Western Marshes, and my house motto is ‘Strength through grace.’”
“Very good. Perhaps you are not entirely incompetent after all.”
“That almost sounded like a compliment.”
“It almost was,” he said with the faintest ghost of a smile.
“But there’s a great deal you need to learn.
If Parliament doubts your heritage at all, which they will, they’ll launch an investigation.
They’re sure to send letters to Brisden to inquire, so you won’t have much time to persuade Julian.
Parliament will expect seals, signatures, and a hundred little proofs that your life exists on parchment.
I can forge some of it to buy a little more time, but you have to sound like you were born to it.
And when they question you, you cannot hesitate, you cannot stutter, and you cannot look to me for help. ”
“I’ll have you remember this was all your idea,” I pointed out.
Zafir chuckled to himself. “If you’re opposed to the plan, you could always quit.”
“Not a chance.”
“Then you’ll need to perform well. Now, what are your lands known for?”
“Fine wines and medicinal herbs,” I answered promptly.
“We supply several provinces in Coronis and Rookwyn but have never sought trade negotiations with Pyren because the shipping costs would make it unprofitable. We supply a great deal of dragonsbane to Rookwyn, but we’re best known for our fine wines, hence our coat of arms including a vineyard. ”
Zafir appraised me. “It seems I’m not the only good liar in this room.”
I shrugged. “I know a tiny little bit about herbs and potions, and like you said: the best lies are built from the bones of truth. Whatever you need me to recite, I can.”
He looked at me for a long moment before nodding once, curtly. “Fine. Begin with your full title and lineage.”
And so began the longest morning of my life.
Zafir grilled me on everything from my invented childhood summers to my great-grandfather’s supposed diplomatic triumphs.
He corrected the way I pronounced the names of my fake cousins, forced me to describe my favorite dishes native to Brisden in excruciating detail, and quizzed me until my throat was raw from talking so much.
We continued for hours, until I thought all my memorized ancestry would start oozing out of my ears.
Zafir finally rolled up the last scroll. “You aren’t quite as terrible a student as I was expecting.”
“You aren’t quite as terrible a teacher as I was expecting.”
Zafir shot me a look that seemed to be a cross between annoyance and amusement. “I have to get some work done. Why don’t you go alphabetize my books?”
“But I’ve been cooperating! And I thought you were just telling Julian that you were going to do that last night,” I protested.
“And what will happen if Julian shows up and it isn’t done?”
“He wouldn’t notice. He likely doesn’t even remember you said it.”
“Perhaps not. But what if he comes in and you’re just lounging about looking like that?”
“I didn’t realize you thought about how I looked and duchesses are known for lounging about. If he comes in, then he’ll be jealous that you get to look at me all day. So there.”
“I’m not going to be looking. I have work to do.” To show it, he crossed to his desk and stacked up a pile of books to block me from his view. “The least you could do to thank me is help.”
I turned to the shelves loaded with dusty tomes. He was probably right, and he had actually given several good tips during the duchess lessons.
“Thank you, Zafir. You’ve been very helpful.”
He let out a snort.
I trailed a finger along the edge of a lower shelf, the leather binding cool beneath my touch.
It wasn’t like there was anything else to do to occupy myself until I managed to seduce Julian or think up a better plan.
If Zafir wasn’t watching me like a hawk, I would’ve brewed up some potions to sell on the black market.
That would earn some money quickly. I threw an annoyed expression Zafir’s way.
Of course I had to be chained to a rule-abiding vizier.
I pulled out one of the heaviest books and opened it.
“Don’t crack the spines!” Zafir barked. He’d glanced up from his work at the slightest creaking sound from his precious books. “That’s a first edition of Pyren’s geography.”
“I can see that.” Topographical maps littered the book. “Where are we?”
“Our capital was built in the middle of the Scorchland Desert more than two hundred years ago,” Zafir told me. “File the book under G for Geography, without damaging it.”
I rolled my eyes as I reached up to slot the book in place.
The motion made my bracelets clink together so that delicate chiming filled the silence of the room.
Zafir glanced up at the noise, let out a small sigh of irritation, then there came the sound of his chair scraping against the ground.
He had intentionally angled his chair away from me and was scratching away on his papers with his quill.
I filed several more books and caught the glint of his dark eyes whenever I moved into his periphery. If he was so possessive of his books, he shouldn’t have assigned me the task of organizing them.
The next book was heavier than the first and bound in deep, navy-blue leather with gilded gold lettering. On the Nature of Genies. My pulse tripped. I opened the book with deliberate slowness, careful not to let the spine crack.
The script was dense and tedious-looking, but a passage near the front caught my attention:
He who possesses the genie’s vessel possesses the servant, and the more wishes the master makes, the stronger the genie becomes.
Once a human is bonded to a genie, the genie is unable to disobey any direct wish the human makes.
Genies draw their life force from their human master and must remain in close proximity or else the genie’s strength eventually fades.
If the human master dies, the genie will wither away unless it gains a new master.
For this reason, genies are often passed down from generation to generation.
Generation to generation… No wonder Rahil was so eager to keep his inheritance, even if he also felt cursed because of it. I wouldn’t want to give up unlimited wishes either.
I looked back down to the book and began to quietly read aloud. “Wishes should be made cautiously; genies are traditionally rebellious spirits and are notorious for twisting each command for their own selfish benefits if they cannot convince the master to free them.”
Zafir stopped writing mid-stroke. “Don’t read aloud,” he commanded.
“Oh, forgive me,” I replied, flipping another page. “I thought you wanted me to alphabetize, not keep quiet.”
“I want you to do both. You’ll work faster if you’re silent.”
“I’ll work slower if I’m bored.”
That earned me nothing but an eye roll, a long-suffering exhale, and the sound of his quill scratching again. I went back to perusing the book. A replica of the mark on my own wrist was drawn on the next page.
My gaze flicked toward Zafir, then back to the page.
Did the mark on my wrist mean I’d been bound to some spirit eager to twist my words?
I’d only made the one wish and gotten exactly what I’d foolishly wished for; my words hadn’t been twisted at all.
Then again, there was no need to twist an already foolish wish.
The genie was probably laughing at me from inside its lamp, wondering why I would wish for something so ridiculous.
I shut the book with a soft thump and put it on a lower shelf, next to the geography book. Genie and geography were close together. My bangles jingled again as I stretched. I could feel Zafir’s eyes on me, though he didn’t lift his head.
“Imported fur sofas, special potion ingredients, and a very old library filled with antique books,” I said lightly. “Tell me, Zafir, do you own anything that isn’t expensive? How is it you own all these things but can’t afford a trip to Brisden?”
“I spend my money on useful things. It would take time for me to save up; I won’t get rid of anything I’ve already taken possession of. It’s all worth keeping.”
If I was going to seduce Julian, I needed to practice. I shot him a look over my shoulder and lowered my voice to what I thought a flirtatious tone would sound like. “You arrested me. That is kind of like taking possession. Does that mean you think I’m worth keeping?”