Chapter One

At first I fought for control of my emotions. He doesn’t matter, I told myself, pretending to be aloof. I even willed my breathing and heartbeat to relax. But then I looked into his eyes, went limp, and surrendered.

His eyelashes danced with poetic intelligence and alert playfulness. My heart thumped against his chest as he pulled me into his sandalwood scent—I feared that its loudness betrayed the depth of my passion for him much too early in our relationship. My head filled with pleasure, then fear, then the sound of my own heartbeat. The loud sound continued. . . .

As I pulled back the gold silk comforter from over my head, dozens of brightly embroidered pillows spilled onto the floor. The noise continued as I groaned and opened my eyes reluctantly. I stared into the center of the round canopy hanging above me. Colored like a fiery sunset, its soft netting enveloped my bed like solar rays. On summer nights, that netting was the only thing that kept the biting insects away.

I thought of the man in my dream and shut my eyes until the sound repeated itself. I was now awake enough to recognize it as knocking on my door.
“Queen Makeda?” Sarahil, my handmaiden, called out worriedly when I didn’t immediately answer.

“It’s okay. Come in,” I told her.

Sarahil quietly entered and bent over to pick up my pillows. Her short dark hair was pulled into a tight knot, as was the apron around her plump waist.

“Sarahil, I don’t understand why I keep dreaming about this man. Who is he?”

I’d known Sarahil since she was assigned to me at birth. She was twenty years older than I was, and I’d come to rely upon her wise advice. After all, growing up a princess hadn’t afforded me opportunities to date or experiment with the opposite sex, even though I’d felt the natural curiosities of adolescence.

And now that I was queen—following my father’s death two years earlier—I would never have the chance to date or get married. You see, my country’s customs and spiritual laws required me to remain an unwed virgin throughout my reign. “You are now and forever married to Almaqah, the sun god,” my priests had emphasized during my coronation.

As Sarahil bathed me in warm springwater mixed with oils and fragrant flowers, I remembered something from my dream. “He was wearing sandalwood oil,” I said aloud.

“Who was wearing sandalwood, Queen Makeda?”

“The man in the dream, Sarahil! Oh, how I wish Mother was here! She knew the meaning and fortune behind every dream.”

“Yes, well, your mother was of the magical kind. . . .”

“You can say the word, Sarahil. My mother was a Jinn.”

“She never liked that name, Queen Makeda. She preferred the term Genie. She thought Genie sounded more regal and dignified, since most people think of Jinn as small mischief makers. And some even call them evil!”

“Well, most people don’t realize that the Jinn are just one of the five types of Djinn. They get us Jinn all mixed up with the depraved Ghuls and Shaytan. Maybe Mom was right! We do need a different name for the Jinn, since we’re the Djinn group who are always trying to do the right thing.”

Sarahil rubbed extra oil onto my feet—as if the treatment would help my Jinn feet to look normal—and lovingly scraped the furlike hair from my four toes.

Yet no matter how much oil she poured onto them, Sarahil still couldn’t hide my misshapen feet, which betrayed my Jinn origins. They were great for climbing trees; walking barefoot down hot, rocky paths; and stamping out fires. Yet as the young queen of one of the largest commonwealths surrounding the Red Sea, I wanted normal, human five-toed feet more than anything.

Well, almost anything, I thought, recalling my dream. Sarahil’s faraway stare told me that she was reminiscing about my mother, and her foot massage took my mind off the dream.

Sarahil’s focus returned. “Time to get you dressed, Queen Makeda. Captain Tamrin is returning today, and he wants to give you the official report about his journey.”

She slid my rings from the tail of my cat. Abby had the longest, skinniest tail of any of our palace cats and loved holding my rings for me while I bathed. Her large ears pointed skyward, and she looked at me and purred.

As Sarahil dried me with a thick fluffy towel, I fingered red stone on a golden chain around my neck, a gift from my dying father that I had never removed.

Sarahil wrapped frothy green silk snugly around my chest and arms, the cloth swinging freely from the waist down. It was one of hundreds of gowns hand dyed especially to flatter my cocoa-brown skin and raven-black hair. Each one was floor-length to cover my twisted Jinn toes.

I impatiently allowed Sarahil to rub perfumed unguent cream on my face to protect my sixteen-year-old skin from the harsh sun and dry air. Unguent was the one thing that kept desert women looking young and supple. But I couldn’t sit still long enough for her to line my eyes with kohl.

“So, when will I see Tamrin and hear all about his latest adventures?” I asked anxiously. Tamrin’s stories of leading our Royal Trade Caravan were always so entertaining. And his excursions were profitable, too, as Tamrin kept our coffers filled with gold and imported products.

He traveled by ship and camel caravan to sell and barter our red gold, cedarwood, marble, frankincense, myrrh, and other rich resources throughout Africa and Asia.

“Right after breakfast,” answered Sarahil as she led me to the dining table, where food was already laid out. I hurriedly scooped the fava-bean scramble onto my injera bread. I wiped my mouth and looked around for Sarahil. Why did she always disappear when I was eating?

I was two steps toward the garden courtyard door when Sarahil’s arm slipped through mine. “Let me take a look at you,” she said, turning my face toward hers. “Hmm, some wild-iris blend ought to bring those gorgeous lips of yours back to life.” Sarahil dabbed her finger on the open vial she held in her hand and rubbed the substance on my lips.

“Ouch!” I pressed my fingers against my lips, hoping to stop the burning sting that compelled them to swell and grow darker.

“Now you’re ready to meet him,” Sarahil said authoritatively, as we walked to my favorite bench beneath the rose tree. I closed my eyes and inhaled, but instead of smelling roses, I detected sandalwood. Was I back in the dream . . . ?

“You didn’t think I’d forgotten your birthday, my queen?” My musings were interrupted.

“Tamrin!” I hugged his neck in very unroyal fashion. Tamrin was like a favorite uncle who always brought me exotic presents and entertained me with endless stories. He lifted me up by the shoulders and twirled me around.

“Balkis!” he bellowed in his warm, affectionate way, using the pet name very few even knew, let alone called me by. Tamrin’s distinctive voice had a deep baritone, musical quality about it. Every word he spoke moved up and down a cascading scale of notes. “Happy seventeenth, my queen!”

Before I even had a chance to admire it, Tamrin placed an emerald-encrusted gold-filigree necklace around my neck, above the chain from my father. I looked down to see that it pointed toward my bustline. Tamrin caught my stare and smiled. My body had definitely matured during his absence!

“Well, the good news is that we only lost one man and a few camels on this trip,” he recounted, sitting next to me on the bench. Normally, I needed lots of space between myself and other people, but Tamrin—well, with him it was different. In fact, since my parents’ passing, Tamrin and Sarahil were the closest thing to family that I had.

“Where did you go?” I tucked my legs beneath me on the bench’s silken pad and leaned forward to soak in every nuance of Tamrin’s travel tales.

Tamrin smiled and, as usual, his eyes disappeared into his round red cheeks. His eyes always reminded me of twin crescent moons turned upside down.

“I’ve just returned from a land called Israel and their capital city of Jerusalem. The King of Israel purchased many of our goods and also sent gifts for you and our people.”

As much as I wanted to hear about the gifts, I was more curious about Tamrin’s journey. Since I’d never traveled, I was eager to experience it through his words.

“The trip was mostly treacherous, Queen Balkis. Nothing for a lady, that’s for sure.” Tamrin stroked his neatly trimmed beard, which had grown more gray since he’d left. His eyes sported more lines around them as well. Poor Tamrin. He so enjoyed traveling, but at what price to his own body and health?

Tamrin continued his description of the journey: “Nearly 1,500 miles of sand, wind, high seas, and occasional marauders. The ships handled the chop and swells, but the men and animals had to rest frequently, which slowed us down. We had allotted six months for the journey, but what with the monsoon season and the king wanting to host us for some time, we’ve been gone for over a year!”

A year! Had it really been that long since I’d listened to Tamrin’s enthralling stories? No wonder I was starving to hear his tales.

“Please tell me about the king’s hosting, Tamrin,” I begged. It was customary for royalty to put dignitaries up as their guests. I’d do the same if the king’s caravan were to ever visit our land.

“Ah, it was a lavish affair from day one! Every type of meal you could dream of, always served on golden trays by well-mannered servants who seemed genuinely happy with their work.

"The king loves music, song, poetry, and dance, so all our meals were accompanied by the height of entertainment. It was also entertaining to watch the king at work. Even at his age, he’s already gained quite a reputation as a wise one.” Tamrin leaned toward me and whispered, “They also say that the king has the gift of magic!”

I imagined a gray-bearded wizard sitting on his throne, dispensing magical spells and wise proclamations. “How old is he?” I asked.

“The king of Israel is relatively new to the post and very young, like you,” Tamrin replied. “His father, King David, was a great man of legendary proportions. He became king not by inheritance, as you did, but by winning a contest and killing one of the giants.”

I shuddered. Everyone was afraid of giants, who acted more like vicious wild animals than people. Someone had once told me they were the offspring of sinister beings called Watchers, coupling with mortal women. I wondered whether this was true.

Tamrin went on: “David was just a shepherd boy who bravely decided to help the Hebrews win their battle against the Philistines. He killed his giant with a rock flung from a slingshot.

David instantly became a local hero, and the daughter of Israel’s King Saul was among his many admirers. King Saul was jealous of David, so he gave him an impossible task to perform in exchange for his daughter’s hand in marriage.

David, ever the optimist, successfully completed it and became the king’s son-in-law. David continued to act as a brave warrior, which increased both his popularity and the king’s envy.

“King Saul decided to kill his rival, so David fled. He lived where he could, including among the Philistines, and even in a cave! He befriended the prophets, especially a famous one named Samuel, who declared that Israel’s God wanted David to succeed Saul upon the throne.

This enraged Saul even more, who stepped up his lethal pursuit of David. But Samuel’s prophecy was clear: Saul would die in battle, and David would win his crown and throne.

“Sure enough, Saul found himself in an enormous battle where he was in mortal danger, so he ran for safety. Unfortunately, this decision made him more vulnerable, since he took flight without the protection of soldiers.

Alone on the battlefield, Saul was killed. David’s zealous fans helped to fulfill Samuel’s prophecy and he became king.”

I was sure there was more to the story, and I asked Tamrin to please continue.

“That’s enough for today, Princess—I mean, Queen—Balkis.” After two years, Tamrin still wasn’t used to calling me by my new title. He patted my head and stood up. “I’ve got to attend to my men and the camels.”

“Wait!” I pleaded, pulling on Tamrin’s shirt as he walked away.

“I’ll tell you more tomorrow morning,” he promised before turning the corner out of the courtyard.

Such a powerful man, with his ability to be blunt without offending me. I fingered the emerald necklace and walked over to my sleeping lioness, Orit, who purred as I petted her.

I went to bed early that night, because it seemed like a good way to speed up time so that I could hear more of Tamrin’s stories. Visions of the magical kingdom of Israel played in my mind.

I imagined myself visiting there someday, even though I knew my protectors would never allow me to cross the border and go outside of Sheba. “Too much is at stake!” they’d warn.

We were a wealthy nation, rich in precious metals, stones, spices, and oils. Our water basins were always full, thanks to our Wādī Dhana watercourse and the Mārib Dam, which irrigated our crops and provided drinking water for our families.

Fortunately, since we sat at the lower edges of the Red Sea, our country was too isolated for invaders, and we’d enjoyed 500 years of peace and prosperity.

As royalty, I had my every need met. I was bathed, fed, and dressed in the finest ways. I didn’t have to pay or work for anything. Sure, I had to attend boring staff meetings, sign documents, and occasionally make diplomatic decisions, but basically I could do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted.

I should have felt grateful, and ecstatic about my good fortune, but I didn’t. Something was missing from my life . . . but what?

Excerpted from Solomon’s Angels, a historically and Biblically accurate novel by Doreen Virtue, available at bookstores worldwide in various languages, and also available from GoodReads at: https://goo.gl/N5HQ0w