This short originally appeared as the July 2019 short for my Patreon. Each month, patrons nominate their favorite couples and characters, vote on one, and I write a brand new short featuring the winner. For more bonus stories, please consider joining my Patreon.
2
Jasmine’s Winter Solstice
Jasmine
I never imagined I’d love the politics that go with running my own territory. The power? Yes, of course I want that. I’ve had a taste, and I’ll never go back to being the girl who was more pawn than human.
But there’s something about communicating in dual meanings that appeals to me. A statement that seems benign, but holds a multitude of threats beneath the surface. A compliment that’s actually anything but. I thrive in this constant battle with words and edged smiles and body language.
Tonight is one such occasion.
I look around the ballroom. My generals and their partners mingle with Jafar’s men. Even after nearly a year, the tension is thick enough to drown in. They don’t trust each other, and I haven’t bothered to change that. More than half of these people supported Jafar’s coup against my father. They are not my friends, and they are not to be trusted. They are, however, incredibly useful now that I’ve unlocked the key.
Still, after hours of this song and dance, weariness weighs me down. I want eight hours of sleep, a bath, and Jafar; not necessarily in that order.
As if my thoughts summon the man himself, he emerges from a cluster of men in suits and stalks in my direction. I let myself look my fill. He’s putting on this show for me, after all. And it’s quite the show, even if it might not appear to be from the outside. Even after months and months together, this man still takes my breath away. He wears a charcoal suit with a dark purple shirt that sets off his medium-brown skin to perfection. Each movement is full of promise of things to come. A promise echoed in his dark eyes.
He reaches me and turns easily to take up his position at my right shoulder, nearly close enough to touch. His low voice reaches me easily despite the relative din of conversation filling the room. “You’ve done well.”
The praise warms me, but I keep my expression cool. “I know.”
A small smile touches his lips. “Meet me in the gazebo in an hour. This lot will have cleared out by then.”
That’s an ambitious timeline. It’s barely eleven, and the last time I threw a party like this, nearly every person stayed until the sun rose the next day. Not all of them were conscious at that point, but they were bodily present. “You may be waiting in the gazebo a long time.”
He just smiles and walks away. His smugness is irritating in the extreme, as is his ability to move freely around during these events. I’m stuck in what’s essentially a throne, surveying my kingdom. Most of the time I enjoy these little power plays, the way I can use my position within a room to illustrate that I’m the one to answer to.
Not tonight.
Tonight, my exhaustion goes bone deep.
It would be an unforgivable reach to call my late father a sentimental man. He barely made time to be my jailer, let alone an actual father. I hated him as much as I loved him—more, even. But, every winter solstice, we would walk the gardens together. First the greenhouses, then the ones outside that went dormant with the turning of the year. A way of remembering my mother, though sometimes I wonder if my memories are true or just figments of my yearning for something else.
I never thought to miss him. I certainly never considered that his loss would compound my lack of mother. Grief works in strange ways, I suppose. My father was a terrible man. He locked me in a cage, had fully intended to barter me for his own personal gain, neglected and abused me in turn. I hate that I miss him at times. Just a little, a flicker of loss in an otherwise wonderful life.
Tonight, on the winter solstice, the flicker is stronger than it’s ever been.
The exodus to the entrance starts so slowly, I barely notice it at first. But as my generals approach me, one by one, to say their goodbyes, and I realize Jafar must be responsible for this. My chest warms the tiniest bit. He and I haven’t spoken about what this time of year means to me, but obviously he sensed my disquiet as the day approached.
Exactly fifty minutes after Jafar gave his order, the room is clear but for his people. I slip out the door and head for the back entrance of the house that leads into the gardens and the massive maze that stretches over several acres. My sanctuary for so many years.
It started snowing sometime after sunset, and a light layer of white coats the path and dusts the slumbering plants. I tilt my head back and take my first true breath in hours, letting the frigid air coat my lungs and clear my thoughts.
My feet know the path, even if I haven’t been out here much since I gained leadership of this territory. It took six months to stabilize things after the coup and subsequent second coup. Even now, when things are mostly running smoothly, there’s no time. My days are filled with numbers and negotiations and politics.
I love it. I truly do. Tomorrow, I’ll love it even more.
Tonight, I’m simply tired.
The gazebo is tucked back in the maze. Not the center, but in one of the four courtyards scattered throughout the bending paths. I’ve spent nearly as many hours in this maze as I have in the house itself. It’s child’s play to craft my route, and I don’t make a single wrong turn.
I step into the courtyard at exactly the hour mark and stop short. I’m not certain what I expected, but the gazebo is swathed in darkness. A thrill of fear goes through me and I savor it the same way I savored the expensive wine I drank earlier. “Jafar?”
A whisper of sound behind me. I barely have a moment to brace before he catches my hips and hauls me back against his body. “Tell me your safe word, baby girl.”
My answer is immediate and breathy. “Rajah.”
“I’m feeling generous tonight, so I’ll let you tell me what you need.” He drags his mouth down my neck. “We can go into the gazebo, and I can take care of you nice and slow.” He grins against my skin. “Or I can chase you through the maze.”
I lean back against him, seeking the strength of his solidness. “Do you fancy yourself the Minotaur, Daddy?”
“I’m going to do significantly more than eat you when I catch you.”
I shiver. “Chase me.”
I expect him to give me a little push, to send me on my way with a count ringing in my ears. I should know better by now. Jafar turns me around and goes easily to his knees before me. “Brace yourself on my shoulders.”
Before I can ask him what the hell he’s doing, he takes my ankle and unbuckles the little strap holding my heel in place. Cold bites at my bare foot as he repeats the process with the other.
He answers my unspoken question without looking up. “I’m not having this night end with you twisting an ankle.”
I don’t bother to argue that I could run a 5k in heels if I so chose. These paths are slippery and the snow makes it impossible to gauge the dips and unevenness of the ground. “Just a little frostbite, then?”
“You won’t evade me long enough to get frostbite, baby girl.” The heavy threat in his voice has my entire body responding. We haven’t played like this in a long time. The house is never empty, and a quick chase around the bedroom isn’t anything compared to what he’s offering me tonight.