Free The Djinn by J. Kent Holloway

He’s
giving him every opportunity .
    “And what if he
kills you instead?” she asked. “You
may hesitate, but he will not. You have truly rattled him and he will stop at
nothing to see you hanged if he is able.”
    “Well, if that
happens, then so be it,” he said in a tone more grim
than she had heard in a long while. “Only let me die with the honor befitting a
knight of the cross.”
    Tears welled in
Isabella’s eyes. She knew he meant it.
    The dark figure
pulled her to him, his arms wrapping tight around her slim frame. His warmth
reassured her.
    “It’s all
right, dear one,” he said. “Remember, Christ is on the throne—not Gregory or
the Pope. This foolhardy crusade of theirs goes against everything He stands for.
He will see them vanquished.”
    The Djinn
gently pulled away from her and looked deep into her eyes.
    “I love you,
Isabella…very much,” he said. She noticed a single tear running from his right
eye. “The day I first held you in my arms was truly the happiest of my life.”
    She smiled at
this. “Save one other day,” she reminded him.
    “Aye. Except that day,” he said gently. “But that day is past. You are here now. The other is
not. And it is you who I will protect and love ‘til my dying breath.”
    “I know you
will, and I cherish you for it.”
    The two stood
silently, gazing at each other. They needn’t say another word. Both knew how
the other felt. True, unconditional and unfettered love passed between these
two souls. It was a thing of beauty in Isabella’s eyes.
    The sound of
shuffling feet from outside Isabella’s chamber door broke the spell. Her head
turned around, muscles tensed, as three loud bangs exploded against her door.
    “ M’lady ,” came the nervous voice of
Horatio, one of her father’s knights. “ M’lady , beggin ’ your pardon ma’am and sorry to wake you, but your
father sent us to check on your welfare.”
    “Just a moment.” She turned to face the Djinn, but he was
gone. The curtains still blew in the warm breeze, but he had vanished like the
spirit he pretended to be. She never would get used to that—his startling
entrances and insufferable exits. But she knew that he would always be there
when she needed him most and that was truly something to be thankful for.
    Isabella
hurried for the door and for the second time that night, opened it to the anxious faces of her father’s knight and squire.
    “Yes?”
    “I’m truly
sorry, miss,” said the humble knight. “But your father’s been worried about
you. He just asked us to check on you.”
    “Thank you,
dear Horatio,” she said with a smile. Of all the baron’s knights, Horatio was
by far the kindest and most noble of the lot. He had
always treated her with great affection and kindness.
    Perhaps it was
his friendship with her uncle that made him pay special attention to her. Her
Uncle William had always treasured Isabella more than all his amassed wealth
and had showered her with love that even her father had never provided. That
is, until William was taken prisoner and disinherited by Gregory.
    But Horatio had
been William’s closest friend. When all others claimed her uncle had rejected
Christ for the Muslim prophet, Horatio had bravely defended him time and
again—to his own ruin. His loyal devotion to his friend had brought the wrath
of the nobles down upon him and now, Horatio had been reduced to guard duty and
minor errands for her father.
    But if the
loyal knight regretted his devotion to William and his present situation, he
never voiced it to Isabella. On the contrary, he lavished her with all the
fondness he could muster in her uncle’s absence.
    “You’re
welcome, m’lady .”
    “Hello, ma’am,”
said Samuel with an awkward wave.
    Isabella’s
smile broadened.
    “Why, hello
Samuel,” she said. “It is good to see you.”
    The young
squire blushed. Horatio turned around to face his squire with a scowl.
    “Well, m’lady , we should let you get back to