"Aoife doesn't know I suspect her," said Victor as he, Lovedae, and the doctor sat in the den with fragrant cups of tea. If the situation weren't so dire, he could almost imagine himself as a young boy again, in the professor's company. "My friend, Ally mentioned Aoife chants a lot, mutters angrily under her breath."

"I concur with your suspicions." Dr. Mason nodded. "That behavior is customary to every iteration of Brigit. Sometimes I wonder about her sanity."

"How do we stop her, Papa?" Victor placed his cup on a side table.

"Not 'we,' son. Me. It's my job to end Roisin's misguided venture. I know what I need. The babus had an ancient artifact stolen from their village years ago. It's a ceremonial dagger with writing etch on the blade."

An image popped into Victor's head. "Curved blade, ivory handle?" 

"You've seen it?" Dr. Mason seemed surprised.

"Yes, sir. Brigit had it in a dream."

"That's unfortunate." He sighed.

"There were dirks too. They were designed to muddle magic so the subject couldn't fight back." The history of magical weapons slid into Victor's thoughts. "The One Magi were immortal then. The elders, or the First, created the daggers because the One Magi developed self-inflated egos and were brutal toward the lesser magi and humans, even killing them for sport. A dagger would put the One Magi in stasis as it drained their magic and life force. But there weren't enough dirks, daggers, or First to police the growing problem. To achieve balance, the First sacrificed themselves to complete a spell ending the One Magi's immortality, making them equal to the lesser races."

"Losing their immortality probably drove some of them mad," said Lovedae, her wary eyes on the doctor. "How do you know this, Victor?"

"It's weird." He frowned. "But since ascending, I've got tons of information piled in my head. I hope I don't run out of room."

"Studies show there are no dormant parts of our brains," replied Lovedae. "Your only problem is that damned magic."

Dr. Mason met Lovedae's gaze. "There's a dagger in India. With Victor's help, I can retrieve it."

"Craig—"

 "Lyle, my dear. My tenure as Craig—" The doctor's face teemed with regret. "It's over."

"Cr—I mean, Lyle..." She reached out to him. "Please, stay."

Dr. Mason took Lovedae's hand. "My love, if I could stay with you, I would."

Victor pitied his mother. In retrospect, her heart would be broken twice—by the same man through no fault of her own. The Duo had been more forgiving, peppering their father with questions, holding onto him the entire walk to the house. They thought him back for good.

Their pain would be his fault for revealing the deception.

The Duo came thundering down the stairs as if summoned, shouting for him at the tops of their lungs. Victor groaned as he stacked the tea tray then yelped as three children ran into the room. Little Vic darted in behind them.

Lovedae and Dr. Mason gasped, both speechless as they recognized the small boy that seemed to drop in from the past. Victor slid the tray onto a table and turned to the child in disbelief. "What in blazes?"

Little Vic stopped before him. "You've got to save Kristy!"

His heart leaped into his throat. "Kristy?" She'd broken the link between them, but that didn't matter now. When he reached out to her, his magic found nothing.

Rosetta and Jason flanked the now weeping little boy. "Something bad happened in her clearing!" cried Little Vic.

"Backyard," corrected Jason, turning to his older brother. "Vic, he popped in through the freaking window and started yelling about Kristy. If she's in trouble, we gotta help her!"

"It's a setup!" cried Lovedae, her fingers digging into Victor's arm. "There's a crazed magus out there gunning for you! I'm sorry about Kristy, but you're staying here. The magic be damned!"

Little Vic plopped on the floor and cried harder as the Duo argued on Kristy's behalf. A frazzled Lovedae pleaded her case, her words adding to the commotion. Victor saw the fear in her eyes before his gaze lit on his father—who gave a slight nod of his head. He understood he had his permission to go. Perhaps the doctor understood more than any of them the extent one would take for love—like coming back from the dead to help your beloved family.

"I'm sorry, Mum," said Victor—and vanished.

The first thing Victor saw when he materialized was Kenwylis cradling a woman with waves of pink hair. Princess kneeled on the other side of her, eyes grave as he rushed over.

I didn't feel her because she's—His mind refused to finish the thought. Victor slid next to the weeping elf and saw the girl wasn't Kristy. But the fae could have been her sister.

Or mother.

"Medi's nearly gone," came the grieving voice of Kenwylis.

Princess sighed. "There was nothing I could do."

Victor took the dying fae in his arms, and his heart broke. He realized he couldn't save her as her injuries were past the point of no return. Still, he touched the gaping wound, and the magic flowed into the woman. Time moved backward for her, as far as it could, but even that was not enough. But it would block the pain and give him time to gather information.

Slowly, Medi opened her sapphire eyes and gazed up at him.

"Oh... a hunk," she whispered, then smiled. "You're Victor. Nice... ta meet... cha."

His smile hid the pity. "Nice to meet you too."

"Kenwylis, tell Gigi... Roe helped... them. Saw him." Medi reached out and took the elf's hand. "Don't cry. Energy... never fades, just takes... a new form. Ya know... that."

Kenwylis nodded and sniveled. Princess placed a comforting hand on his back.

Medi looked at Victor again with hope in her dying eyes. "Save... my daughter. Stupid, dickless... Cat-a-man took her... rushing marriage. Her father will... transfer his hold... of her magic as soon as... bonded. He'll force... her... Focus. The genie realm. Promise... save her." She showed him the bracelet. "Track her."

Victor took it as he held back tears. "I will."

The fae's eyes closed before she opened them again. "Ya... won't like it. Damn straight she... won't.. but I'll tell... what ya... must do."

"I'm listening, love."

Kristy stood before the ornate mirror in an anteroom of her father's palace. The silky bustier, silver and cropped, barely covered her breasts: the sleeves, a sheer slinky material, wrapped around toned arms. The matching undergarment attached to the transparent fabric covered her shapely legs. Bangles of silver clanged at her wrists, and the matching foot jewelry tinkled on her feet. The genie's luminous eyes, a gift from her fae mother, were lined with kohl, the winged liner enhancing the exquisite shade of blue.

She snarled at the reflection, her body on display as a gift for the man who would soon own her.

Or so he thinks, she thought.

Her family would use her for their selfish needs as long as she had value. The dressers who'd encased her in this getup gossiped about Cataran paying a hefty magical dowry. He'd sworn once that he'd own her one day. How she wished he'd lied!

I can't live like this. 

Smashing her Focus would be a quick end to a miserable existence. Kristy tried not to think of Victor even as her fingers clutched the little heart with his name. It would hurt him, but she had no other choice. 

The brocade curtains over the entrance parted, and her father, Kardash, entered with Tarje a step behind him. Both were decked in colorful silken robes, their skin scented with expensive perfumes and oils. Kristy hadn't seen her father in years. Still tall, dark, and handsome, the perfect cliché for a book, she thought. When he stepped forward to embrace her, Kristy moved away.

Kardash frowned. "Krysania, a shame you did not return during the deliberations. Your suitors needed to see what they were bidding on. But that aside, today is an honorable day for our family. I should see joy in your eyes. Instead, I see smoldering anger."

Tarje spoke before she could reply. "Krysania needs discipline. I fought for an older man, but the tenth secretary's son, Cataran, overruled me. I cannot believe—"

"... That you'll be my subordinate," finished Kristy, her tone mocking. 

She watch as the realization occurred to the flustered Tarje. But the revelation brought Kristy no joy.

"Krysania, it's time for the bonding ceremony. As your parents, we'll escort you to—"

"The man who murdered my mother. I met her today before Cataran stuck a spear through her chest."

Kardash froze, staring at his daughter. "What did you say?"

"Cataran killed Medi."

Tarje laughed at the news. "I'm sure the little whore deserved it." She grew quiet as an enraged Kardash narrowed his eyes at her.

"Get out."

Tarje bowed and turned to leave, throwing Kristy a dirty look as she left. 

Kardash moved away, and Kristy almost felt pity for him. Medi was right. He had cared. "She spoke of you fondly, Father."

"Did... did she suffer?"

"A spear through the chest ensures that she did." Kristy twisted the mental knife deeper.

Kardash turned back to her, a pained expression on his face. "I am sorry for... Medi. In honor of your mother, Tarje will not escort us during the Wedding Walk." He picked up a sheer golden cloth residing on a table, draping it over his daughter's head as tradition demanded. "Will you come willingly, or must I force you to obey?"

The time had come. Kirsty knew that no one would come to her rescue. The geas kept her from contacting Victor, and like a fool, she'd severed the link between them to preserve her privacy. Her fingers rubbed the little heart. Only one option left. She would face death like the warrior she'd always wanted to be. "I'll obey."

Kristy kept the required two paces behind her father, having witnessed the Wedding Walk many times. They walked through the spacious halls of the palace, the courtyards, and walkways decorated with carved stucco and wood, colored tiles, and princely gardens with beautiful plants that released heavenly scents throughout the area. They passed patios with marble fountains of roaring lions that released trickles of water from their opened mouths. Passing through a little-used hallway, then entered the meeting hall.

The heavy door that closed behind them signaled her pending doom.

Members of the Fifty, the ruling families of the jinn, loitered in the chamber, dressed in all their finery. The 'guests' chatted near tables packed with mouth-watering delicacies and glasses filled with the finest wines in the realm.

No one paid attention as Kardash led his daughter, a mere woman, to the front of the assembly. Cataran's father, Boona, dressed in costly robes and jewels, came forward and stood on the other side of Kardash. He nodded approvingly at his future daughter-in-law, then registered shock as she flipped him off.

"Krysania," threatened Kardash, but she ignored him too.

Word had reached the groom that his bride awaited him. The massive golden doors opened, and Cataran strode in, a retinue of his chosen warriors behind him. Now the crowd came alive as the worthy male stalked toward Kristy and her father, pausing now and again to accept congratulations from the attendees.

He wore flowing pants of silver tucked into expensive boots. A leather baldric crossed his muscular chest, the sword perched at an angle on his back. He marched to the front, his eyes feasting on the girl. Kristy said nothing, only glaring at the man she hated with all her heart.

Cataran glanced at Kardash, who also gazed at him with cold eyes. The young man sniffed, then looked away.

Boona stepped forward and raised a hand toward the adoring crowd that grew quiet. "Today, my beloved son and heir, Cataran, will take the daughter of Kardash, Forty of the Fifty, as his first wife. This is an honor for her kind, but well deserved based on her service to our realm against the witch."

The crowd cheered and clapped—for Cataran. The bride rolled her eyes.

"May she give you many children!" called a man from his entourage.

"When she does, I want one!" said another, causing the congregation to laugh.

Cataran only smiled and turned to Kardash and his father. He held up his arms and cried, "Let the joining begin!" The guests applauded as the brash young man removed the sheer cloth from his bride, dropping it at his feet. "What a prize you are, Krysania," he whispered, licking his lips. He turned to face the crowd and then held out his left wrist.

A fearful Kristy pulled back, causing Kardash to grab his daughter's wrist. She fought him, forcing her father to use the controlling clips inserted in her magic as an infant. He weakened her power which in turn weakened her movements. She stumbled, but he held her upright, placing her right wrist under Cataran's.

Boona pulled a silken cord from his robes and held it before the guest. "I, Boona, father of Cataran, and Kardash, father of Krysania, bind our children together for all eternity. May she serve him for life and produce many sons and daughters for the realm."

Kristy summoned her Focus into her left hand. Once bound by the magical wedding cord, there was nothing anyone could do. She'd become property, Cataran's plaything to do what he liked. Her broken heart called out Victor's name as tears filled her eyes. He'd understand this wasn't a life she could live. Her father would transfer his control of her to her enemy as soon as they tied the cord.

Before that happened, she'd smash her Focus.

At least I'll have the pleasure of seeing the murdering bastard pissed off as I die in his face.

The cord wrapped once around their joined wrist.

Then twice. It began to glow. Kristy raised her left fist. Cataran watched her with hooded eyes as Boona made to tie the knot—

And the silken cord shredded to bits.

Kardash and Boona gasped. Cataran gaped at the destroyed cord—before he flew across the room, crashing on top of a laden food table that toppled over from the impact. The crowd gasped and rushed in droves to the other end of the chamber to help the displaced groom.

Alone and shivering, Kristy dropped to the floor as her eyes sought those of the young man perched on top of a stone pillar near the far wall. He jumped down and started toward her, black pants flowing as he ran. Cuffs of beaten gold circled his wrist. But the dark tousled curls and emerald eyes belonged to the one her heart craved.

Victor.

He pulled the genie up and into his arms. Kristy rested against his bare chest, eager lips finding his as she stood on tiptoe. Moments later, her desire sated, she asked, "Medi...?"

Victor sighed. "I'm sorry, love. Too much time had passed."

"Poor Medi." Kristy rested her aching head on his shoulder. "At least I got a chance to see you again."

"You can't give up."

"I can't win this one!"

"Kristy, there's a way." He cupped her face with gentle fingers. "Medi said... I need the pitcher back. Bounding weakens your father's authority over you. I'd be above him."

Kristy tried to pull away, but he held her fast. "I won't be bound again, not even by you!"

"I'll find a way to free you, I swear!" Victor cupped her face tighter. "I can't lose you, Kristy. I'm in love with you."

Kristy's heart melted as he said the words she'd longed to hear. Victor loved her. The greatest magus in all the realms loved a mutt of a fae, a nobody. Her ears picked up the movements of the supposed guests. They'd soon return, and the farce would continue.

"Love requires trust," he whispered.

Love made her decision. Her lips met his as her left hand sought his. "I love you too." Love required trust.  Kristy slipped her Focus into his hand, giving him ownership.

The change overcame her immediately as her power once again recognized Victor as master. The chains of captivity descended, and she was bound. The beautiful genie bowed before him and then gazed up with trusting eyes. "What is your bidding, Master?"

Victor gripped her hand and kissed it. "I swear I'll fix this, my love. But for now, please play along so we can bloody go home."

With hands firmly clasped, they turned to face the returning crowd.

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