Chapter 38 #2
Zahhak smiled. “Grandfather, soon,” he said jokingly, slapping the boy’s back while Keyon made his way around the table. He did a small bow to Azar, who scowled at him, before coming closer to me.
This was the boy who saved me from the jinn in Denver.
“Roxana,” he breathed. “We meet again.” I was speechless, and he took advantage of that, snatching my hand from my lap and kissing the back of it. “My future bride.”
“Bride?” I hissed, yanking my hand back into my lap. “No.”
Keyon went to his seat at the table. “You didn’t tell her?” he asked Zahhak carefully.
“I had just begun to. Sadly, we became distracted,” Zahhak said. “Roxana, to break the unfortunate cycle, and to uphold the treaty, I’ve taken it upon myself to match you with someone appropriate. Keyon is the khan of his territory, north of the Underworld.”
“I’m not marrying you,” I spat out. “I’m not marrying anyone. This can’t be real.”
“You don’t really have a choice, azizam,” Zahhak said.
Keyon didn’t seem particularly pleased to be part of the conversation, and for a moment I felt bad that he was involved in all this. That was, until he opened his mouth. “Females often don’t know what is best for them.”
“What in the incel…” Azar snapped. I could have sworn Keyon’s lip quirked up at that. “So, jinn are into arranged marriages? We don’t even do that in Iran anymore.”
“And that recent change is a shame,” Zahhak drawled. “Be gracious enough that we are informing you of what will happen. Now let’s enjoy dinner. Get to know your future husband, Roxana.”
My cheeks flushed, and I saw red. “No.” I pushed my chair back, the legs screeching against the tile flooring.
I waited for a moment before making a beeline for the exit.
Zahhak made no move to leave; no one did, not even Azar, who looked like she wanted to say something but didn’t.
As I approached the open door, I was met with Red Lapels and Green Lapels, who blocked the exit.
I tried to shove past them, but they were like bricks, unmoving and rock solid.
“Move out of my way,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Sit back down, Roxana,” Zahhak called, his voice level and bored.
I wasn’t going to sit down while my life was being given away to a stranger. I thought my dad was bad, but this was a whole new level. That thought elicited a pang of longing. To be arguing with my overprotective dad, who seemed so much more reasonable compared to my extended “family” member.
“Move,” I said again. Neither of the women did. I shoved Red Lapels, thinking she might at least stumble and then I could move past her, but her body didn’t shift. However, I did notice her jaw clench.
“If you do not come back in the next ten seconds, we will bring you back to this table by force,” Zahhak continued.
“Rox, come back,” Azar said. I was shocked. Where had her will to get out of here gone? I didn’t know how she could still sit around the table.
I turned to her. She was shaking her head.
“Five seconds,” Zahhak called.
“I’m not something you can sell off,” I said angrily, not moving.
He clicked his fingers, and Red Lapels and Green Lapels moved to the side.
I let out a sigh of relief and took a step forward to leave.
I was halfway out the door when my arms were yanked back and I was dragged by both women, kicking and screaming, to my seat.
I was placed, ungracefully, down onto the chair and tucked in.
They were strong, and ruthless, and I was sure I would have bruises from where their fingers dug into the tops of my arms.
“Well, now that that is over, we can finally start dinner,” Zahhak said, winking at Keyon, who gave a good-humored laugh.
I hated them both.
Azar shot me an I told you so look, which I didn’t appreciate.
Perhaps it was because she too had been dragged back to the table before and knew it wasn’t worth it.
Maybe it was one of those things you had to experience before you understood.
Well, I understood now. I would not brazenly try to take on those women, or Zahhak, again, but I would be getting out of here.
The meal consisted of five courses. I ate bits of each, tentatively, always watching to see if Azar was eating too.
I figured if we were being poisoned, better to die together.
If I hadn’t been so hungry, I wouldn’t have eaten anything, but I had no idea when our next meal would be.
Each course was small—the kind of rich-people food Nic and I made fun of.
When the main course did come—lamb kebab and rice—I told Zahhak that I didn’t eat meat.
He burst out laughing. Keyon smirked too, like he found that fact about me amusing. So the kebab went uneaten.
Zahhak and Keyon talked like old friends but with a formal edge, Keyon agreeing with most of what Zahhak said. They spoke using lingo I didn’t understand, laughing at remarks that meant little to me or Azar. It was like a fever dream.
The worst was when Keyon commented on the paintings on the wall. “Have you told the sisters about your mementos?” he asked. I had hardly noticed them, but when he pointed them out, I noticed small portraits clustered around the room. The subjects all looked different, some young, others old.
Zahhak was chomping on his kebab and took pains to finish eating before replying. He dabbed his lips with his napkin and glanced at one of the snakes on his neck with an affectionate smile before speaking. “I don’t think they would find it as amusing as you and I.”
Flashbacks came to me. People screaming. Maidens saying it’s better that other people be killed than them.
“Are these portraits of people you’ve murdered?” I asked in a quiet voice.
Zahhak’s head moved from side to side, like it was a scale of justice. Nodding, in a sense, to the culprits tied to his neck. “They get hungry. It’s the only way to calm them.”
I scanned the room again. There must have been thirty of these portraits scattered around. “You got portraits made of all your victims? Like it’s a sport or something?”
Zahhak made a clucking sound before taking another long sip from his glass. This was his fourth drink. I noticed Keyon didn’t drink the blood either. Perhaps it was an acquired taste.
“These are from only the first two weeks of feeding them,” Zahhak explained. “After that, I gave up on the idea of memorializing the people that have to die so I can live peacefully.”
I choked.
The first two weeks.
How many people has he killed?
“Why?” Azar asked. “Why do you have to kill innocent people so you can live?”
“I made a deal with Shaitan, or the spirit your generation would call Satan. I wanted to live forever, and the only way for that to happen was to betray my own father. Shaitan thought it would be amusing, the ultimate evil, as it were, for me to kill my own blood. That was easy. And I became king—an immortal king, at that. My curse, however, was to have these beasts attached to me. Every granted wish comes with a catch. I believed the catch would be my being fatherless, but no. I soon learned that the snakes quieted down if I provided them each with a human heart every day. It’s what they beg for, after all, so that’s what I do. ”
“What happens if you don’t?” Azar asked carefully.
“They annoy me,” he said simply.
Azar and I locked eyes. My God.
“Don’t worry, it’s a great honor to be the Jinn King’s daily feed,” Keyon said with a smile.
His eyes held mine for a moment, steely, almost like he didn’t find it amusing, not really.
But then both men laughed like he had made a great joke, and I realized I was delusional if I thought this boy was anything but pure evil, like my demonic grandfather.
Azar and I looked at them, then each other, horrified.
This was what Azar and I were born into.
But we weren’t evil like these two men. Our mother had raised us differently, and I hoped that mattered.
The screams of the jinn hunters, however, their burnt flesh beneath my fingertips, suggested otherwise.