ONLY a will honed over thousands of years of existence and tempered by being a healer prevented Torquel en Sahon from retreating as the old witch whose foolishness in youth had cost the Djinn one of their own approached. With each step she took he fought against retaking the form of the cardinal and escaping the presence of the ifrit—one of the soul-tainted, a being whose name was crossed through in the Book of the Djinn and whose spirit couldn’t be guided back and reborn into a new life.
He stood his ground by reminding himself the loss of the Djinn whose name was no longer spoken had ultimately served The Prince’s vision. Only by forming alliances with those they would have seen destroyed in the past would the Djinn return to Earth.
The Wainwright witches served as intermediaries. Even so, as the ifrit drew near, he couldn’t stop himself from turning his face away to look in the direction his daughter had gone.
He’d taken no pleasure in her creation. In truth, he preferred not to remember any of the human women he’d lain with.
Rebekka was the last of his children. Out of all of them, her gift as a healer held the most promise.
He’d spent more time observing this particular daughter. Found himself caring about her fate more than was wise. But whatever the outcome of her testing, his time among humans was drawing to an end. When this was done he would return to his House and to the Kingdom set deep in the spiritlands that was both refuge and prison for the Djinn.
“Did she give you the pages she took from the Iberá estate?” he asked, directing his attention and question at the younger witch, because for all his courage in remaining in the presence of an ifrit, he wouldn’t risk inviting a similar fate by speaking to it directly. Nor did he want to hear or see the Djinn soul tangled with the human’s.
“Yes, and she accepted the amulet.”
A wisp of guilt drifted through him. A private acknowledgment he’d failed to hide Rebekka well enough and Caphriel had found her.
Torquel brushed the emotions aside. Caphriel’s games were the price for his silence about the alliances the Djinn sought and formed in this world.
Caphriel’s gift could be countered. And in the end, both game and gift would be made to serve the Djinn.
The necessity of the amulet added to the complexity of Rebekka’s trial, deepening her talent for healing and strengthening the blood tie between them, and with it her connection to the Djinn and the Earth that gave birth to them. He would have preferred otherwise, but when all was said and done, this daughter would succeed or fail, live or die, as the five before her had.
“And the rest of it?” he asked.
“Her mother never spoke to her about you but she might have encountered Abijah in the maze before he destroyed it. She didn’t deny the possibility she’d been fathered by a being she believes is demon, nor did she seem shocked by the disclosure.”
“You guess correctly. Abijah sought her out, but I didn’t witness what occurred between them.” He felt pride in his daughter, for not easily trusting the witches, though had she, there were things they could have revealed that would have helped her.
The decision to have Rebekka think she was a demon’s child was his, made after Caphriel found her and when it seemed likely her path might one day cross Abijah’s. Until she proved herself worthy, she couldn’t know of the existence of the Djinn.
The witch said, “We offered to turn the Church’s attention away from her in exchange for a favor owed. She refused.”
“Will she continue to?”
“I believe so.”
Torquel looked again in the direction Rebekka had gone. It was his right to mark an end to the part of her trial that had begun when she’d agreed to wait outside the maze the night Araña ran in it, not knowing she’d been made a participant in a Spider Djinn’s testing.
This daughter had courage and intelligence as well as honor and loyalty, all of which had prevailed in the face of fear. She’d withstood both the temptation of The Iberá’s protection and the terror of being turned over to the Church.
The desire to intercede was strong, to separate this part of her testing from what remained. It was matched by his desire to have Rebekka prove herself worthy of being known by the Djinn, her name entered in the books kept by his House.
The fierceness of his pride in her, the depth of his will for her to succeed, gave Torquel pause. He hesitated over the words that would make Rebekka safe from one threat, finally saying, “The Church’s part in this is done after the sun rises tomorrow. See that one of our allies visits the priest Ursu.”
“It will be as you wish.”