Page 69 of Desperate Measures
Yasmina
I never imagined I’d love the politics that go with running my own territory. The power? Yes, of course I want that. I’ve had a taste, and I’ll never go back to being the girl who was more pawn than human.
But there’s something about communicating in dual meanings that appeals to me. A statement that seems benign but holds a multitude of threats beneath the surface. A compliment that’s actually anything but. I thrive in this constant battle with words and edged smiles and body language.
Tonight is one such occasion.
I look around the ballroom. My generals and their partners mingle with Jafar’s men. Even after nearly a year, the tension is thick enough to drown in. They don’t trust each other, and I haven’t bothered to change that. More than half of these people supported Jafar’s coup against my father. They are not my friends, and they are not to be trusted. They are, however, incredibly useful now that I’ve unlocked the key.
Still, after hours of this song and dance, weariness weighs me down. I want eight hours of sleep, a bath, and Jafar, not necessarily in that order.
As if my thoughts summon the man himself, he emerges from a cluster of people in suits and stalks in my direction. I let myself look my fill. He’s putting on this show for me after all. And it’s quite the show, even if it might not appear to be from the outside. Even after months and months together, this man still takes my breath away. He wears a charcoal suit with a dark purple shirt that sets off his medium-brown skin to perfection. Each movement is full of the promise of things to come. A promise echoed in his dark eyes.
He reaches me and turns to take up his position at my right shoulder, nearly close enough to touch. His low voice reaches me easily despite the relative din of conversation filling the room. “You’ve done well.”
The praise warms me, but I keep my expression cool. “I know.”
A small smile touches his lips. “Meet me in the gazebo in an hour. This lot will have cleared out by then.”
That’s an ambitious timeline. It’s barely eleven, and the last time I threw a party like this, nearly every person stayed until the sun rose the next day. Not all of them were conscious at that point, but they were bodily present. “You may be waiting in the gazebo a long time.”
He just smiles and walks away. His smugness is irritating in the extreme, as is his ability to move freely around during these events. I’m stuck in what’s essentially a throne, surveying my kingdom.?1 Most of the time, I enjoy these little power plays, the way I can use my position within a room to illustrate that I’m the one to answer to.
Not tonight.
Tonight, my exhaustion goes bone deep.
It would be an unforgivable reach to call my late father a sentimental man. He barely made time to be my jailer, let alone an actual father. I hated him as much as I loved him—more even. But every winter solstice, we would walk the gardens together. First the greenhouses, then the ones outside that went dormant with the turning of the year, ending in the center of the hedge maze and the fountain there. A way of remembering my mother, though sometimes I wonder if my memories are true or just figments of my yearning for something else.
I never thought to miss him. I certainly never considered that his loss would compound my lack of a mother. Grief works in strange ways, I suppose. My father was a terrible man. He locked me in a cage, had fully intended to barter me for his own personal gain, neglected and abused me in turn. I hate that I miss him at times. Just a little, a flicker of loss in an otherwise wonderful life.
Tonight, on the winter solstice, the flicker is stronger than it’s ever been.
The exodus to the entrance starts so slowly, I barely notice it at first. But as my generals approach me, one by one, to say their goodbyes, I realize Jafar must be responsible for this. My chest warms the tiniest bit. He and I haven’t spoken about what this time of year means to me, but obviously he sensed my disquiet as the day approached.
Exactly fifty minutes after Jafar gave his order, the room is clear except for his people. I slip out the door and head for the back entrance of the house that leads into the gardens and the massive maze that stretches over several acres. My sanctuary for so many years.
It started snowing sometime after sunset, and a light layer of white coats the path and dusts the slumbering plants. I tilt my head back and take my first true breath in hours, letting the frigid air coat my lungs and clear my thoughts.
My feet know the path even if I haven’t been out here much since I gained leadership of this territory. It took six months to stabilize things after the coup and subsequent second coup. Even now, when things are mostly running smoothly, there’s no time. My days are filled with numbers and negotiations and politics.
I love it. I truly do. Tomorrow, I’ll love it even more. Tonight, I’m simply tired.
The gazebo is tucked back in the maze. Not at the center but in one of the four courtyards scattered throughout the bending paths. I’ve spent nearly as many hours in this maze as I have in the house itself. It’s child’s play to craft my route, and I don’t make a single wrong turn.
I step into the courtyard at exactly the hour mark and stop short. I’m not certain what I expected, but the gazebo is swathed in darkness. A thrill of fear goes through me, and I savor it the same way I savored the expensive wine I drank earlier. “Jafar?”
A whisper of sound behind me. I barely have a moment to brace before he catches my hips and hauls me back against his body. “Tell me your safe word, baby girl.”
My answer is immediate and breathy. “Rajah.”
“I’m feeling generous tonight, so I’ll let you tell me what you need.” He drags his mouth down my neck. “We can go into the gazebo, and I can take care of you nice and slow.” He grins against my skin. “Or I can chase you through the maze.”
I lean back against him, seeking the strength of his solidness. “Do you fancy yourself a monster in a maze, Daddy?”
“I’m going to do significantly more than eat you when I catch you.”
I shiver. “Chase me.”
