Read Online The Price of Freedom by Jenny Schwartz - Free Book Online

Mischa beat her fists against her thighs. “I feel helpless. He tricked me, you know? He gave me freedom to return to guarding. And now I’m here, I can’t care about anything except freeing him.”
    “I’m sorry.” Sara gathered her in for a sympathetic hug.
    Momentarily, Mischa resisted, then allowed the comfort. “What do I do, Sara? I miss him.”
    Her cousin stayed silent, all out of easy answers.
    Mischa sniffed and drew back. “I’ll wait for Rafe. When another human finds his djinni bottle, at least he’ll be paroled. It’s awful. His only freedom is serving bastards.” She shuddered, trying to control her strong emotions. “Meantime, I’ll keep an eye on Umar Haya.”
    “Who?” Sara hadn’t followed the natural progression of Mischa’s thoughts.
    “Umar Haya,” Mischa repeated viciously. “The man who used Rafe, hid his bottle and tried to get Ilias Aboud killed—is still trying, for all I know.” She resented bitterly the promise that had separated her from Rafe and from duty.
    “Ilias Aboud is alive. I checked. Andrew is guarding him.”
    “At least the Guardian Council is taking no chances,” Mischa responded grudgingly. More than once Andrew had been reprimanded for his proactive defense. Enemies of his charges frequently encountered tests of their free will that resulted in early death and damnation. “Maybe Haya will get what’s coming to him.”
    “He escaped the missile launcher explosion.” Sara reluctantly punctured Mischa’s vengeful hopes. “It mysteriously exploded one afternoon. Possibly from the heat, but I suspect…” she paused and shrugged, “…demon protection.”
    “Like protects like.” But Mischa’s eyes narrowed. Like could also be brought to fight itself.
    Sara read her mind. “Forget it. Rafe freed you to be you, a guardian. If you twist your soul in vengeance, you’ll destroy the person he loves. You have to be a guardian and wait for him.”
    Mischa bowed her head, agreeing but hurting. Anger was an easy outlet for her emotions. Without it, she had to face the haunting loneliness of Rafe’s absence. The guardian duty that had filled her life now felt empty.
    “I’ll try,” she said.
    “Good. And we’ll all look for a way to free Rafe.”
     
    Mischa lost weight as she went about her work. She accepted duty assignments that required constant vigilance and ruthless action. Lovers could count on her sympathy, but greedy hate-mongers and self-appointed wise men were ruthlessly tested.
    She checked once on Ilias and Salwa, not to protect him, but just to see their love and be assured of his continued safety. The Middle East peace process was a mess again, but Ilias continued with his work.
    He flew to New York, speaking at the United Nations before stopping at the Pentagon. In addition to his public roles, he helped with translation and cultural interpretation. He influenced the powerbrokers.
    He arrived home in Istanbul tired, depressed and determined.
    “I’ll be home a week,” he told Salwa. “Then I have to join a strike force. They don’t know the desert.”
    “Nor do you,” said his wife. But her bustle around the kitchen, preparing his favorite foods, showed her love.
    “I know the people. I know their code of honor.”
    “Honor?” Salwa was scathing. “Terrorists, filling people’s heads with hate.”
    “Most people are good. Some are misguided. I have to help the strike force, stop them from making the situation worse. We don’t need a reason for more misunderstanding and hate.”
    “Eat” was all Salwa said. She placed a loving hand on Ilias’s shoulder. “I worry about you.”
    Mischa vanished in a stream of light. She hid in her rooms in heaven, crying hot, heavy tears. She wanted what Salwa had with Ilias: the right to care for her beloved, to touch him and comfort him, to share his life.
    “Oh God, God. How could you give me love and then leave me aching?”
    She dreamed of Rafe. Sometimes she’d wake smiling. Other