Chapter Text
A spark in the darkness, static in the air. A deep voice resounded throughout the theater.
“Djinn of Wrath and Heroes…”
Thalia lifted her eyes, following the sound to its source. There, upon the parapet, stood a lone figure, scimitar raised to the sky.
“...Come forth, Baal!”
Lightning rained from the heavens, striking the stage between her and her assailant. Her eyes squeezed shut. She heard him land on agile feet, made out his rough silhouette in the green afterimage. He stood with his back to her, his sword pointed toward the patrician.
“Leave,” he commanded.
The patrician stood frozen. “What the hell?”
“She clearly doesn’t want you, so leave.” The air around them stirred, kicking up dust and tossing the long ends of his ponytail. Thalia braced herself for another flash, but it didn’t come. The patrician simply fled.
The god—for what else could he be?— approached and knelt before her. Having heard of the gods’ appetites for mortal women, Thalia shrank away when he tried to touch her. Mortal or god, the identity of the assailant didn’t matter. The goddess demanded purity from her daughters.
“Hey, hey. Take it easy. You’re safe now.” The voice was rich, friendly—not what she’d expect from someone about to force himself on her. She squeezed her eyes shut one last time and allowed herself to relax.
He removed his jacket with slow, feline grace. When he draped it over her shoulders, she tightened it around her chest and muttered her thanks.
“It’s no trouble.” He reached for her injured leg. When she flinched, he paused. “I promise I won’t try anything. You trust me, right?”
Thalia furrowed her eyebrows. “Trust you?”
“Not to try anything indecent.”
Chewing her bottom lip, she stuck out her leg for him to inspect. She didn’t have a choice, did she? He could call lightning from the heavens. If he was going to hurt her, nothing could stop him.
Resting her calf on his knee, he inspected her injury. “The swelling isn’t too bad. How much does it hurt? Do you think you could walk on it?”
“I could,” she answered tentatively. “It only twinges a little.”
“Good.” He returned her foot to the floor, taking care to arrange her skirt back over it. “Seems like it’s just a sprain. You’ll be fine if you stay off it for a few days.”
Yes, well, she didn’t have a few days. The next show was tomorrow, and if she didn’t perform, Maader would be furious. Carefully, Thalia lifted herself off the floor and tested her injury, slowly shifting her weight to her injured foot. The dull pain was at least tolerable, but her ankle wobbled before giving way.
“Hey, hey! Easy!” The god caught and righted her. “What did I just tell you?”
She glanced at his calloused hand, gripping her shoulder under the fabric of his jacket. He was well dressed—the complex embroidery on the jacket he’d loaned her must have been painstakingly stitched by a skilled artisan—yet his palms told of innumerable hardships. Her breathing slowed.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, but he was asking for the impossible unless he intended to smite her mistress. She limped away from him and tried standing on her ankle again, yielding the same results.
Damn it. What was she going to do now?
The god’s gaze locked on her ornate metal slave collar and darkened. “I think I understand. You’re afraid of your master?”
Thalia suppressed a shudder. What was there to fear? Lady Maader was kind, and as long as Thalia made her lots of money by dancing…
But Thalia couldn’t dance—not like this. She would be punished, but that wasn’t even the worst part. She was useless now, and Maader would quickly realize the tickets continued selling without her. There’d be no reason left to keep her, and one of the buyers clamoring for Thalia would finally get their wish.
She choked back a sob. Warm arms wrapped around her, pulling her against a firm chest, and she realized he smelled of the ocean before a storm. It reminded her of her room at the palace, of how she would lean against a pillar and watch the clouds roll in. The harder the gods poured out their wrath, the faster her heart raced.
“I can come with you,” he offered. “Explain what happened.”
Thalia shook her head. “If she knew, it would only make her angrier.”
No, as far as anyone besides this stranger would ever know, this injury resulted from her own incompetence. She had taken a tumble while practicing.
“Why?” His eyebrows furrowed. “How could she blame you? That guy was twice your size; what were you supposed to do against him?”
Thalia didn’t know, but Maader wouldn’t take that as an excuse, and neither would the goddess.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, taking a step backward to bow. “You saved me, my lord. I couldn’t possibly ask more of you.”
“Hey, no need to bow.” He placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hold your head up high. Rich or poor, slave or free; we’re all the same inside, don’t you think?”
The same? That was preposterous. He was all-powerful, and she was lucky to be alive. Not to mention he’d rescued her from a fate worse than death. Humbled by his magnanimity, she deepened her bow.
He sighed. “Really, you don’t have to.”
“I want to.” She straightened. “You deserve far more than my eternal gratitude, but it is all I can give. May I have my savior’s name?”
“Sinbad.” He puffed out his chest and grinned. “Maybe you’ve heard of me.”
“Yes…” she answered breathlessly. “The boy from the posters—the dungeon capturer. It’s you.”
Perhaps not a god in the most literal sense, but he was a metal vessel user, which made him just as powerful. Besides, immortal or not, it didn’t matter. She’d worship him all the same.
“And if I may have the name of the lady standing before me?” He bowed with a flourish of his hand.
“Echo,” she told him.
Her heart hammered a protest inside her chest. Sinbad had shown her nothing but kindness, and she’d repaid him with a lie. Would he hate her if he found out?
“Echo?” He frowned and brought his fingers to his chin. “Echoes don’t speak their minds. They only repeat what others tell them to.”
“What are you saying?” Thalia asked.
He shrugged. “I’m not sure it suits you. That’s all.”
Thalia limped backward, ashamed to admit he was giving her far too much credit. Instead, she changed the subject.
“If you’re a dungeon capturer, then that lightning earlier… that was…?”
“Baal.” He drew his scimitar, cradling it almost like a child. “That’s the djinn that resides inside this metal vessel. He grants me the power of lightning.” Resheathing it, he reached inside his shirt and withdrew a red pendant necklace. “And this is Valefor. He gives me dominion over ice.”
As he dangled it in front of her face, she reached out and ran her finger over the ruby cabochon, which was cool to the touch despite having been nestled against his skin. She closed her eyes and tried to sense its mystical energy, but all she felt were his fingers wrapping around hers.
Her eyes snapped open.
“I can show you if you like.” He squeezed her hand.
“You’d do that for a slave,” she wondered aloud.
“For a beautiful woman,” he said. “I’m weak to your kind.”
“Oh, dear.” A wry grin found its way to her lips. “If that’s the case, half of Reim must bring you to your knees.”
Leaning in closer, he returned her grin with a lopsided one of his own. “It’s a real problem. Luckily, I think I can trust you not to take advantage of me.”
A tiny hiccup of a laugh found its way to her lips. His expression softened as he wiped the last bit of moisture from her cheek.
“Would you like to see?”
She gave a small nod.
Sweeping her off her feet, he carried her to a seat in the front row. He took a step back, closed his eyes, and turned his palms toward the sky. Something cold landed on her nose, a shock in the warm summer air. Silver snowflakes fell from the sky, nestling in her hair, on her lips, on his jacket.
She reached out to catch a flake. He grinned and raised his scimitar into the air for the sigil to appear on the blade once more.
Thalia gasped. The snowflakes had begun to twinkle like stars, and she was in the center of a swirling constellation. They tingled as they landed, hundreds of tiny jolts that brought her skin to life. She caught one on her tongue and giggled when it gave a slight shock.
Her savior settled in the seat next to her, crossing one leg over the other. “Enjoying the show?”
“It’s incredible,” she answered.
He was incredible.
She dared to study his face. Before, she had overlooked the elegance of his long nose and the expressiveness of his thick brows, but what struck her most were his eyes.
Molten gold. Roiling like liquid lightning, they unsteadied her as if a clap of thunder had shaken the earth beneath her feet. These were the eyes of a man who commanded the elements, bent them to his whim. He could bring monsters to their knees, yet he chose to use this incredible power to bring a smile to a stranger’s face. Not just any stranger. Her.
He ruffled her hair, scattering a flurry of snowflakes. “Good.”
Heat pooled in her cheeks, her chest, her stomach. Her heart thrummed. She turned her eyes back to the falling sea of stars, but she remained acutely aware of his presence—every rise and fall of his chest, the bob of his Adam’s apple when he swallowed, she missed nothing.
Thalia wished she could freeze time and be stuck in this moment forever, but eventually, the first drop of rain landed on her face, followed by the rolling of thunder. The stars faded and the last of the snowflakes evaporated into the night’s heat.
Sinbad stood. “I should really get you home.”
“Yes,” she said quietly. “I suppose you must.”
At this point, it didn’t matter if she came back early. She’d allowed Maader’s property to be damaged. How much worse could her punishment be?
Carefully, he lifted her from the seat. She clung to his neck, letting her head rest against his chest and closing her eyes to listen to the calming rhythm of his heartbeat. He was a strange man, this Sinbad—strange, powerful, and wonderful. At least in his arms, she was safe.