Page 51 of Bewitched By the Djinn
I can’t drag my eyes away from him. The tilt of his mouth and the spark in his eye should be illegal. Definitely hazardous to my heart rate.
Ignore all that.
A silence settles between us and I slump deeper into the sofa, drowsiness sweeping over me.
He reaches over, brushing my hair behind my ear, his fingers trailing a warm path down my jawline. “Perhaps you should get some rest, princess.”
I snort. “I am the farthest thing from a princess you can get.”
He’s right, though. I should go back to my room.
But it’s so far, and I’m warm and comfortable right here, like floating in a syrupy haze. For the first time in ages it’s like I could close my eyes and actually sleep and not lie awake with my thoughts or be jarred into heart-pounding alertness by all the fears and worries that won’t leave me, even in slumber.
“What does Aetheria look like?” Truly, it’s an excuse to get him to keep talking. He could read me the tax code and it would be riveting. It’s gotta be the accent.
“Well, let’s see.” His thumb rubs against my leg again in a soothing motion and my lids drift shut. “Aetheria is divided into four kingdoms. I am from Zehraya, land of the jann. My home is full of endless emerald valleys and sprinkled with ancient stone cities. Thalassara is where the giants reside, the marid. Their kingdom is near the sea, rich with waterfalls and wildlife. Then there is Duskharan, land of the shaytan. Their kingdom has twisting labyrinthine forests and crimson rivers that glow in the dark. They are a very secretive people. Our spies struggle to obtain any information on their royals. Finally, the ifrit live in Ashkaran, a land of volcanic mountains and scorched canyons. The ifrit live in obsidian fortresses carved into cliffs, at least that is what they say...”
He continues speaking, but the words stop registering. Only the tenor of his voice, the soothing cadence, penetrates my consciousness.
For the first time in a long time, I fall asleep without worries crowding my mind.
Chapter
Fourteen
I tuck a giant Swiss cheese plant onto the corner by the front windows, stepping back to check the positioning so the large glossy leaves aren’t being pressed into the wall. The house already smells fresher, like damp earth and fresh air. It cost an arm and a leg but I ordered twenty plants and small potted trees from a nearby nursery. I had to get cheap plastic containers, but it doesn’t matter. I only care if it works.
I pick up the rubber plant on the floor, admiring its ruby leaves, and head toward the stairs. A voice drifting through the air from the kitchen catches my attention.
“Close your eyes. Breathe in deep. Find the quiet place inside yourself.”
I pause, fingers tightening around the plastic base.
Bennet and Jackie are in the kitchen.
His voice is low, smooth, steady in a way that makes my stomach flip, especially when I remember our conversation last night. At some point he must have carried me to my bed. I woke up a few hours later, but it was still the longest and best sleep I’ve had in years.
I step closer to the doorway, pressing my back to the wall, listening.
“Feel the breath in your chest. Let it settle. The quieter you become inside, the easier it is to connect to what’s around you.”
There’s a beat of silence. Then Jackie sighs. “It’s not working.”
“You’re thinking too much.”
“How do you not think? When I try to tell my brain to be quiet it just gets louder.”
Bennet lets out a soft chuckle. “Focus on your breathing. If thoughts come, that’s okay. Let them come and go, like a boat floating in water. Or a butterfly. Don’t push the thoughts away with force. Watch them, let them float around, and then return to your breath.”
I set the plant down at my feet and lean back against the wall, letting my own eyes slip shut, mirroring them.
Bennet keeps talking, murmuring things to Jackie about letting go, surrendering to her breath, letting the burdens slip away. Maybe it’s exhaustion. Maybe it’s curiosity. Maybe it’s the way his voice lulls me into the same calm spell from last night.
I inhale, slow and deep.
And then there’s a shift inside me, like a puzzle piece locking into place. It’s not magic, it’s more like adjusting an internal radio to tune in to the world around me.
The walls around me no longer exist. I’m floating in a dark space, surrounded by glowing threads stretching through the space around me, fine as silk but impossibly strong, a web of fragile lines linking me to the world.
