ONE

Centuries Past…

His name was Tamric. Young, arrogant and headstrong, Tam wanted nothing more than the excitement of walking the mortal realms, theDjinn magick that would let him grant wishes, and the prestige that came when he returned to thelandofJinari.

Eying the rich, carved wooden urn with envy, he closed his eyes, trying to picture the mortal realms. They had mountains there. Mountains, rivers, oceans…

The dry hot winds of the desert blew in through the window, stirring his thick hair, bringing with it the ripe scent ofgesan trees andvandri , the plump purple fruits that grew from those trees.

Tam ran a hand down the outer curve of the urn, feeling the hum of residual magick. This had been his mother’s vessel once. For three hundred years, she had been gifted with the chance to walk among mortals—three centuries.Lucky lady, he mused, shaking his head as he rubbed his thumb over the raised carving of theegasi, the symbol ofDjinn magick.

Nearing the end of her third century, she had met the mortal who had returned the urn to her, without claiming his wish, giving her leave to come back to Jinari, where she was adored and revered by all.

His lip curled in a scowl.

That was what he wanted. But when he had been all of fourteen, she had conscripted him into service.

Sentenced— that was more like it. Enslaved for five decades.

Bleeding sands, I don’t want to be a priest.Spinning away from the urn, he paced the room, the loose material of his pants rippling around the strong muscles in his legs, his jewel-adorned belt winking in the light that emanated from the walls.

A priest… “I’d rather freeze in the lowest levels of hell for fifty years.”

He wanted the power ofDjinn , wanted to experience life in the mortal world, experience mortal women…and come back here a free man, out from under the shadow of his mother. Wanted to see people look athim with awe.

He spun around, reached out his hand and cupped the urn’s curve. The urn pulsed under his touch, oddly warm. Narrowing his eyes, he stepped closer and touched it with both hands. The throb of life seemed to course through his hands as they lay against the urn. Unusual…

He never saw the blue mist that seemed to flow up out of the floor behind him. As he ran his hands along the surface of the urn, he never realized he was being watched.

It was the gentle clearing of a throat behind him that had him whirling around to stare into the unfathomable eyes of one of the Guardians. His jaw dropped as he sank to one knee, mouth going dry with fear, his heart slamming against his chest.

“So, young Tamric. You wish to beDjinn ?”

A female voice cried out and Tam flinched as his mother came rushing into the sacred peace room, her amethyst eyes flashing with fury, glinting with tears. “No!” she shouted, flinging out her hand at the Guardian. “He willnot beDjinn. ”

The Guardian smiled and Tam thought he looked kind of sad. “Isma, he wishes it. He has wished it for a long time.”

“He is a fool! A child. He doesn’t know what he wants,” she insisted, shaking her head so that her long black braids danced around her shoulders.

The Guardian slid Tamric a glance and he felt as though the being could see straight through him. “He does not wish to go into service to the temple,” the Guardian murmured, shaking his head. “Bound forever to a life of loneliness. Such a burden to place upon one who doesn’t feel that calling.”

Isma shook her head. “No. TheTempleis a fine calling. He must learn to appreciate what I can give him,” she snarled.

“I do not want it.”

Both of them stilled, turning to look at him. Deep black eyes and pale purple eyes stared at him with varying degrees of surprise. “You are a boy!” Isma said. “You do notknow what you want.”

Tamric glared at her, enraged. “I amnot a boy. I’m twenty years old. Next year, I would have been able to leave this household and set up my own. Exceptyou gave away my freedom. For fifty bloody years!” he snarled, his voice dropping to a low growl as he fought to contain his fury. Damn it, he knew she loved him, wanted what was best… But it had to beher definition of best.

“I do not want a sexless existence where I do nothing but live in silence and ponder the meaning of the universe and pray until my knees bleed from kneeling so long on the floor,” Tam said coldly, shaking his head. “You see only what the priests become after servitude. I know what I must endure to ever attain what you wish for me to have. Fifty years of slaving for the priests, fifty years without the touch of a woman, fifty years of living on little more than bread and water.”

“Those fifty years teach you control, discipline,” Isma said, her voice level, her eyes unreadable. “After that, you will haveeverything , your pick of lands, of brides, of everything you could ever want.”

Tam shouted, “I do not want it!” Slashing at the empty air with his hand, he gritted out, “That is whatyou want for me. I’ve always done whatyou wanted. Now, I am doing what I want.”

Turning his eyes to the Guardian, he said, “What must I do?”

The sound of his mother’s denial echoed in his ears as a funnel of blue smoke enshrouded him.