Raphael smiled. “I’ve heard about you. It’s an honor to meet you,” he replied, then exchanged glances and brief nods with Taeral.
“You know my parents already,” Taeral said to him.
“Yes. We’re sorry for what happened,” Raphael replied, then shifted his focus back to my parents.
For some reason, I felt incredibly tiny in that sea of people. Then again, it wasn’t the crowd that gave me this kind of anxiety. It was my proximity to Herakles. Good Lord, the muscles on him… I was confident that he could effortlessly ram through a wall, with all that solid mass on him. In contrast, the shape of his lips, the smoothness of his jaw, and the straight blade of his nose spoke of noble grace, something passed down through multiple generations of legendary kings. Only, Herakles had been made in a lab. His genetic makeup came from different species.
Even so, he was handsome. No wonder the ladies nearby gave him the occasional sweet eye. And I was so tiny in comparison!
Snap out of it, Riza. You’re a friggin’ jinni. Greatness in a smaller package, but greatness nonetheless!
“So, Aisha, Horatio, you two are also jinn, like Nuriya, I see,” Raphael said, looking at my parents’ misty lower bodies.
Mom nodded. “Indeed. Nuriya and I are, in fact, related.”
“What’s up with the foggy underparts?” Herakles asked, and pressed his lips into a thin line. I had a feeling he hadn’t meant to use those exact words. He struck me as a foot-in-mouth kind of guy.
“It’s part of our jinni tradition to keep this hidden,” Mom explained, motioning at the dark blue mist. At first glance, it looked as though there was nothing beneath it. But her legs were still there, only well-hidden with this magical gimmick. “We only show it to our soulmates. In this case, my husband,” she added, smiling at Dad.
“I see,” Raphael said, then raised an eyebrow at me. “Then how come I can see your legs? You’re a jinni, too, right? I mean, you’ve clearly got your mother’s eyes.”
My face was on fire. Not because of Raphael, but because of the way Herakles looked at me. Also, I absolutely hated having to explain my choice of going against jinni traditions by revealing my legs. I took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, while my parents quietly waited for me to speak. They knew it was my turn. We’d talked about this before.
“I never identified with the tradition,” I said. “I appreciate it, but I don’t want it to define who I am and what I do. And I’m not going to keep my lower body hidden until I find someone I may deem adequate to see it. It’s just antiquated thinking.”
Mom chuckled softly. “We had plenty of arguments on the topic, but, in the end, it’s Riza’s decision, and we’d be terrible parents if we didn’t let her be exactly who she wants to be.”
“Besides, there’s no guarantee I’ll ever marry, so there’s also that,” I grumbled.
My dad’s forehead smoothed. I knew he’d eventually have a stroke if I kept saying that, but telling the truth was like tearing a band-aid off. It was better if I did it quickly. He and I had talked about this, too. My parents were traditionalists, and I couldn’t blame them. Theirs was the first generation to reach out across the dimensions like this. They had their feet in two worlds, in a way. Then again, the history they left behind was a rather gruesome one. Long ago, my mom killed Cyrus—my grandfather on my dad’s side and the evilest jinni in recorded history… So, when I told them I wanted to give up on the lower body cover, I could’ve sworn they were, in fact, partially relieved that I was breaking with tradition. What could I say? My parents were a constant contradiction, as far as the jinni ways were concerned.
I, on the other hand, was pure Shadian. I made my own rules. And I didn’t like the misty legs, anyway. I loved shoes too much.
“Babe, don’t,” Mom whispered to Dad, coaxing him into a more relaxed expression.
He gave me a flat smile but didn’t say anything. He’d often spoken about how ardently he wanted me to find someone to love, much like he’d found Mom. I simply wasn’t ready to listen to any of it. I’d just joined GASP. I had an entire universe—or more, for that matter—to explore! Marriage could wait.
“You said earlier that you didn’t think the fire fae were forced to attack against their will,” I said, changing the subject back to our most ardent issue. “What made you reach that conclusion?”
“We’ve interviewed some of their brigade mates,” Raphael replied. “Most of them didn’t notice the change in their behavior. We’ve yet to speak to everyone, but there’s physical evidence that proves their actions to be deliberate.”
“What evidence, exactly?” Nuriya asked.
“Remember Myris’s boot?” Herakles asked, crossing his arms. We all nodded. How could we forget it, smoking in the middle of a bloodied floor? “There was obviously a foot inside. That and an arm were the only body parts that made it out mostly intact.”
“Ew. Just, ew!” I mumbled, trying to shake the image out of my head before it killed my appetite.
“There were symbols carved on the bare sole and on the palm,” Herakles continued. “Lumi and Kailani cleaned them and took photos, and there’s a current search for them in GASP’s image database.”
“Judging by the cuts’ angles and depth, the fire fae did it to themselves,” Raphael added.
“So, what are we thinking? Some kind of secret cult?” Taeral asked.
Nuriya shushed him, as the crowd murmured around us. “We’ll talk about this later,” she said.
Serena approached the terrace, holding the baby, and Draven joined her a second later. Rounds of applause erupted, as the happy couple moved down the aisle and headed for the ceremonial platform, where Derek and Safira were waiting with armfuls of flowers for the young parents.
I was thrilled for Serena, in particular. She and Draven loved each other beyond words, and they deserved to live a full and wonderful life. Having a baby was part of that package, and I did appreciate how they hadn’t immediately rushed into it. They took their time and strengthened their relationship first. That, in my opinion, was the secret to an unbreakable bond.
“Good grief, she’s so damn sweet,” Dad said as Serena passed by our row.
I, too, caught a glimpse of the baby. Her cheeks were pink. A tiny hand had come out, trying to reach one of Serena’s long, black curls. Draven couldn’t take his eyes off them both. I didn’t need to be a sentry to see how happy and also scared he was, and how much he loved his wife and child. It was written all over his face.
The atmosphere, however, was not as sweet as the baby.
Looking around me, I could see the tension. It stretched across the platform, weighing heavily down on our shoulders. Two public gatherings had already been disrupted by exploding fire fae. There was a clear sense that it might happen again.
As expected, security was tight. All the Daughters were present, and the terrace was discreetly surrounded by incubi and succubi soldiers. It made it difficult for the other fire fae, including the Shadian ones—all eyes were on them, wary and dark. We couldn’t discriminate against all of them, for the sins of a few, that much was obvious.
But I couldn’t help but wonder who would go off next.
It had happened before. We couldn’t let it happen again.
The naming ceremony went smoothly, to the relief of many. Serena and Draven named their daughter Isabelle, and Safira promised her a great fate. The Daughters weren’t clairvoyants or anything similar, but their instincts were rarely wrong. Then again, they’d nearly lost Eritopia to Azazel, so, when they did fumble, they fumbled good.
But I hoped Safira’s promise would turn out to be true. Isabelle was lucky with parents like Serena and Draven. They’d both overcome so much already. Strength and determination were embedded in their genes. Their heir was going to carry on with such an incredible legacy.
Briefly glancing at my mom and dad, I remembered that I, too, carried a turbulent history in my genes. My parents had beat the odds for freedom and love—much like everyone else in The Shade. This knack for fighting and surviving seemed to predefine us.