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"Behind you."
"Will you take me to it?"
"Of course."
So, mindful of Dinarzad who still slept, Shahrayar took Shahrazad by the hand and led her to the trunk.
She knelt before it, placed within it the piece of fabric holding the secrets of the story she had begun, then gently closed the lid and said:
"I am sorry, Shahrayar."
"What for?" he asked, the surprise plain in his voice.
Oh, what a great fool I am! thought Shahrazad. Surely it would have been better if she had not spoken. For how could she put what she was feeling into words? To do so might end her task almost as soon as it had begun.
She was not sorry to have become Shahrayar's wife. Not sorry to have taken up her tale. To her, the way that she must take seemed as clear as it always had. Her motives were true and just.
But it had come to her through the course of the long night that where she perceived a path ru
Might not her actions appear like deception should be learn what she had done before he had truly come to trust her? How deep might such a wound cut, having been so cruelly deceived by a wife before?
He had not spared her life—not yet. Not even for a moment longer. But if he did, surely he would believe it was the result of his own will. It would not occur to him that it could be the result of her storyteller's art, also.
If he should see what she had done through any but the eyes of love, what would befall them both?
"Shahrazad?" Shahrayar prompted.
"Never have I begun a tale I could not finish," Shahrazad answered slowly. "Perhaps I should not have given my sister her way in this. Her tales are short, for she is just a child. But you are a man full grown. I should have realized a tale that belonged to you would take more time. We may never know how the story ends, and for this, I am sorry."
At her words, Shahrayar felt something explode inside his head. I see it now, he thought. The way to keep her alive.
"I do not accept your apology," he said. He leaned down and helped Shahrazad to her feet. “For I promised I would hear this story through to its end. Therefore I will do so."
At his words, Shahrazad's heart gave a great leap, though she answered, "But—"
"Oh, do be quiet and let me think a moment," Shahrayar exclaimed as he spun away in frustration.
"Why must you always ask one more question? Why can you never let things be?"
"I suppose because I ca
"Then it will take as many nights as it takes! I am the king. All must abide by what I proclaim."
"So you keep saying. But will what you proclaim today still be so tomorrow?"
"How should I know?" Shahrayar all but shouted, and Dinarzad stirred and moaned in her sleep. "Do you think I have all the answers just because I am king?" he asked, his tone suddenly weary and quiet.
"No, I do not think that," Shahrazad said. "For surely a king is first a man. And so it must follow that a king does as all men do: the best he can."
At her words, all Shahrayar's anger and frustration left him for wonder. She understands. She did not expect him to be perfect just because he was the king, nor did she expect him to hide or deny his flaws as his first queen had.
And so he moved back to Shahrazad and took her face between his hands.
"You ask me questions for which I have no answers. They are all in the future, and I ca
"Then let us solve one puzzle, at least," suggested Shahrazad. "I will tell your story each night until it is done, and rejoice in the telling of it."
Shahrayar felt her words sink, deep inside him, like water into parched ground.
“I thank you for your generosity."
At his words, Shahrazad's mouth quirked up. "Now I know you are just a man," she said. "For I think you have grown confused over which of us is the generous one."
"No, I have not," answered Shahrayar.
And he realized suddenly that the two of them were standing body to body and that he still cradled Shahrazad's face in his hands. At this, a longing to kiss her rose so sharply within him that it felt like pain.
He released her and stepped back.
"Come," he said. "Let us summon a servant to carry your sister. Go to your father and tell him what has come to pass. I think he will want to hear it from you, rather than from me. I hope that it will bring him gladness."
"I am sure it will," Shahrazad said.
And at that moment, the sun appeared through the window and shone upon her face so brightly that even her blind eyes were dazzled.
Chapter 11
A P L O T
And now, for a moment, we must leave Shahrayar and Shahrazad. Though they are the heart of this tale, a thing that is right and fitting for it is theirs. There are others who must be spoken of, for, without them, the tale ca
I have told you how, in the time following his discovery of his first queens betrayal, Shahrayar locked himself in his highest tower and did not come down. Great was the fear and compassion his people had for him during these days—before he descended from the tower and all perceived that his heart had been turned to stone.
But what none perceived was that it was not Shahrayar alone whose heart was altered during this time.
There were others whose hearts were changed as well. First among them were the former queens brothers, and their hearts were transformed in this way: They were turned into pillars of flame that burned with a desire for revenge. Until it was accomplished or their lives were ended, the fire could never be put out.
Now, Shahrayar had been a prince before he had become a king, for that is the way things usually go.
And so it follows that his first bride had been a princess, daughter of a kingdom taken by Shahrayar's father in one of the many wars of conquest at which he so excelled.
The land he had conquered brought Shahrayar's father great wealth and, though he was glad he could now call it his, he did not want its people humbled too much. He wanted them to retain their pride, for they had become his people, and their pride had therefore become his.
So he married Shahrayar to the sister of the young king he had defeated. The princess was very beautiful, and this suited Shahrayar's father's plans well. For in this way, he hoped to secure both his son's happiness and the allegiance of those who had been his foes.
The prince and princess had been married two years and two days when Shahrayar's father died and Shahrayar ascended to the throne. They had been married three years and thirty days when Shahrayar stood in the garden beside his brother, Shazaman, and saw his wife embrace another. Heard them plot murder even while they murmured words of love. On that night, the marriage ended, for the queen died by her own hand, cursing Shahrayar as she did so.
When the queen's five brothers learned what she had done, at first, they were glad that she lived no more. For, by her actions, she had brought a stain upon their honor that could never be erased. But even as Shahrayar lay upon the tower floor changing the very fabric of his heart, so did the queens brothers begin to change their hearts as well.