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Kalim paced his bedroom restlessly. It still felt too soon, too sudden. Why now? What had changed? Was it him? Was it her? He didn’t even know her, and now he was going to be expected to—to—
“Kalim?” A knock at the door frame. “I’m coming in.”
Jamil was dressed in his own finery, befitting the right hand of the young master. He was more handsome than ever, and Kalim already found him devastating on a good day.
Jamil Viper was going to be standing beside him on what was supposed to be the happiest day of his life, just as he’d always hoped and wished for—except that he would be on the wrong side of the aisle. Truly, it was as if he’d asked a djinni for what he wanted and it got his wish all twisted.
“Jamil, I—!” His lower lip wobbled. He’d been so strong for so long, but at the final hour, he couldn’t do it. He fell back into the chair at his vanity and covered his face with his hands, tears spilling down his cheeks. “I can’t—I don’t love her, and I don’t think I ever will.”
Jamil closed the door with a quiet sigh. “I thought as much.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Despite himself, no matter the work he’d done on self-reliance and independence, no matter how far he’d come, when he was in dire straits, his first and only thought was of Jamil.
Jamil will know what to do.
Jamil pet his head, slow and soothing. “If you want me to take care of it,” he said, voice taking on a tone Kalim only faintly recognized, “all you need to do is meet my eyes.”
Kalim froze, shoulders tensing.
“You know what will happen to you when you do.” Jamil kept playing with his hair. “I can make sure you don’t marry her or anyone else your parents choose. But you have to trust me.”
Kalim kept his eyes carefully on the surface of his vanity. “Can I ask—What will you do?”
Jamil shook his head. “I need your complete trust. If you can’t have faith, then I won’t do it.”
Kalim licked his lips. He could see where this was going, he thought. He hoped. “Will we ever come back here?”
“We might not leave.”
Jamil always knows best.
“No one will get hurt?” Kalim asked quietly.
Jamil gave a chiding tug to his hair. “Do you trust me?” he asked again.
And Kalim gave the only answer he could. He looked up and met Jamil’s bewitching gaze. He didn’t even hear the spell, falling effortlessly into Jamil’s control as if he’d never left it.
Kalim came aware in stages. There were flashes like dreams of events he couldn’t fully remember, and he felt… different. Lighter in some ways, but also…
He was sitting at a table at a café he didn’t recognize. He might be in the Shaftlands, and there was a cup of coffee in front of him. As he reached out to touch it, still unconvinced he was awake, his eyes caught on the ring around his left ring finger.
Kalim swallowed thickly. He—He was running from this, wasn’t he? Wasn’t he supposed to be—Jamil had been with him, and he was going to make sure that Kalim didn’t have to marry her, so why was he wearing a ring?
“Oops,” Jamil murmured, tipping his face up to meet his eyes. “Not quite yet, Kalim. Go back to sleep.”
Kalim fought to resist, to ask—but Jamil’s eyes were inescapable, and Kalim had always been so very, very weak to them. The flash of the ring followed him into his dreams, as did the scent of Jamil and the rich taste of coffee.
Kalim blinked awake. It was dark, and he seemed to be in a hotel room. He was in pajamas and in bed. Moonlight came in through the curtains.
The ring was still on his finger.
“So it wasn’t a dream,” Kalim murmured.
The bed shifted beside him; Jamil turned over in his sleep, hair cut shorter than it had been in a long time, but just as silky where it fanned out over the pillow. The hand he stretched out toward Kalim had a ring on it, too.
Kalim slipped carefully out of bed and stepped out onto the balcony to think. The air was pleasantly cool, and the view was wholly unfamiliar to him. They were in a city, but only Jamil knew where.
He pulled his knees to his chest and stared out at the glittering sea of lights.
After what could have been minutes or an hour, the door slid open behind him, but Kalim didn’t startle. “How long has it been?” he asked.
“Long enough. I planned to wake you in the morning,” Jamil said.
“Did you really?” Kalim kept his eyes forward.
“They’ve finally stopped looking for you,” Jamil said.
Kalim almost looked up. “They… They think I’m dead?”
“Yes. They think we both are.”
“Really?” Kalim looked down at the ring. “I wasn’t expecting…”
“I’d say it was the cleanest way out, but that would be a lie.” Jamil sat down beside him. “I just wanted them to remember us as always together. Even in death.”
Kalim shivered.
“Your former fiancée has married someone else, and one of your siblings is now the heir. Your parents will never be able to force you into a marriage again.”
Kalim held up his hand. “And this?”
Jamil took the hand in his own. “No one else can force you to marry someone you don’t love either.”
His hand was warm and comforting. “How long, Jamil?”
“Three years.”
“Three—?” Kalim tensed, heart racing. “I don’t remember—I don’t have a single full memory,” he breathed. “I—Jamil, why—? What am I supposed to do now? What have I been doing?”
Jamil stroked the top of his hand, comforting even after everything. “Kalim, do you still trust me?”
He closed his eyes tightly. “I don’t know. Three years?”
“Three years. Would you like to remember?”
Kalim clenched his free hand against his pajamas. His heart was racing, and he couldn’t figure out if he was panicking or not. Was Jamil still safe? Was he in danger here? Did he need to run?
“I don’t know,” Kalim said again.
“Kalim,” he murmured, soft and sweet and coaxing. “I’ll help you remember. All you have to do is open your eyes.”
Kalim kept his eyes closed. A hand cupped his cheek and turned his face. Jamil’s hand was so warm and so gentle. The ring was cool against his cheek.
“All you have to do is trust me,” Jamil cooed. “Just look at me.”
Jamil always knew best.
Kalim opened his eyes.