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The Rajput stiffened.
“Perhaps I can be of assistance?” the newcomer offered with a grin.
Shahrzad shot him a winsome smile. “I hope so. I’m—”
“I know who you are, my lady. By now, everyone in the palace knows who you are.” His brown eyes sparkled with mischief as he winked at Despina. She averted her gaze, her cheeks coloring.
He’s quite the flirt.
“Then you have a decided advantage over me, sir,” Shahrzad said.
“I’m Jalal.” He bowed his head, his fingertips brushing his brow.
“He’s captain of the guard and the son of General Aref al-Khoury . . . the Shahrban of Rey,” Despina clarified in a rote tone.
“Don’t let the title fool you, my lady. I’m no one of consequence, even if my father is the highest-ranking general in Khorasan.”
“Well, we share a portion of that lamentable status, for I am also no one of consequence,” Shahrzad said.
“I doubt that, my lady Shahrzad. I highly doubt that.” Jalal gri
The Rajput grunted again. His lingering ire brought Shahrzad back to the matter at hand.
“Would you be willing to teach me how to use a bow and arrow, Captain al-Khoury?” she asked.
“That depends on a few things. The first being that you dispense with the formalities and just call me Jalal. The second being that Khalid never discover my part in this transgression.”
Khalid? He calls him by his first name?
“I can meet those terms. Gladly. If you’ll return the gesture, on both parts.”
Jalal leaned forward conspiratorially. “Then follow me, Jalal.”
Shahrzad laughed. Despina looped her arms over her ample chest. “This is a bad idea,” she cautioned, her blue eyes flitting to Jalal’s puckish face.
“For whom? For you, or for me?” Shahrzad retorted. “Because it seems like a very good idea for me to spend the last day of my life doing the things I’ve always wanted to do.”
Despina sighed with resignation and trudged behind Shahrzad and Jalal. The Rajput stomped in their shadows, his distaste as plain as his irritation, despite the sharp look of rebuke from the captain of the guard.
Jalal led Shahrzad to the rack of bows. Several quivers hung from a steel bar, their goose-feathered fletchings dyed in bright colors for easy recognition. Shahrzad pulled out an arrow from one of the quivers. Its tip was blunted for target practice. Taking special pains to appear nonchalant, she bent the back end of the arrow, ever so slightly, to determine the weight of its spine.
Not that flexible.
“You’ve shot a bow and arrow before?” Jalal inquired, observing her with a surprising amount of kee
“Not really.” She attempted to sound dismissive.
“So can I ask what you’re doing with the arrow, then?”
“I’m merely curious.” She shrugged and put the arrow back in its quiver. Then she reached for another arrow with differentcolored fletchings. She performed the same test.
Much better.
She removed the quiver of arrows from the bar.
“It appears you might not need my tutelage, after all,” Jalal commented in an airy tone.
“No, no—” Her mind scrambled to conceal her misstep. “My . . . cousin once told me it’s easier to fire arrows with less spine when you don’t have a lot of upper body strength.”
“I see,” Jalal stated dubiously. “And what did your . . . cousin have to say about bows?”
“Nothing. The comment on arrows was merely in passing.”
His expression turned even more doubtful. “Of course. In passing.” He made a quick study of the different bows leaning within the weapons rack. When his hand paused on a tall, straightbacked bow, he glanced over his shoulder at Shahrzad.
She smiled at him.
Still watching her, he shifted his hand to a much smaller bow with ends that curved away from the archer when strung.
The recurve bow.
Shahrzad held her smile, refusing to fall prey to his attempt to bait her with the weapon of her choice.
“Do you have a preference?” he asked.
“Whatever you think is best.”
He nodded. “I think this will work for our purposes.” With a knowing grin, he took the recurve bow from the rack and strode in line with the targets positioned fifty paces away.
As she followed him, Shahrzad grimaced at her thoughtlessness in disclosing an aptitude for archery.
What’s done is done. But in the future, do better.
She reached up and coiled her wavy black hair into a knot on the nape of her neck. Then she shrugged off her cumbersome mantle and handed it to Despina. A faint desert breeze cooled the bare skin at her arms and stomach. Her fitted silver top had a square neckline and tiny, capped sleeves. A silk sash of cobalt blue hung low across her hips, its pearl-embroidered ends trailing against the ground. Silver slippers kicked up tufts of sand with each step she took.
Shahrzad slung the quiver onto her shoulder, and Jalal handed her the recurve bow.
A crowd of curious onlookers had begun to gather off to the side. Despina and the Rajput stood out front, still sporting their respective looks of unease and disgust.
Shahrzad placed her feet close together as she tugged an arrow from the quiver and struggled to position it on the sinewed string.
Jalal was markedly unconvinced.
When Shahrzad nocked the arrow back, the thin strip of wood struck against the handle of the bow as it trembled in her purportedly ignorant grasp.
“Is this right?” she asked Jalal.
“No. It’s not.” He snorted. “But you know that, don’t you?”
“Of course not.”
“Are you sure?”
“Are you going to teach me, or not?” she demanded.
He laughed. “Put your left foot forward so that your stance is shoulder-width apart.”
She did as she was told.
“Now relax your grip and lower your elbows. Use the sights positioned on the bow grip to aim.”
Shahrzad almost sneered. She hadn’t needed sights since she was thirteen. Tariq had seen to that.
“Once you’ve settled your sights, pull the arrow back as far as you can and release it.”
When she loosed the arrow, it spun in the general direction of the target before it floated to the ground, twenty paces shy of its destination.
Shahrzad looked over at Jalal. He remained dubious.
“Did your ‘cousin’ explain draw weight to you?”
She shook her head.
He exhaled before stepping closer to her. “I chose this bow because it has a lower draw weight. I suspect this is the reason you chose that particular quiver of arrows. Meaning this bow and this arrow will work in tandem to help you draw back without having to use a great deal of upper body strength. Which is especially beneficial for smaller archers, like you.”
“So draw weight is about size?”
“I think it’s more about speed and accuracy. If you don’t have to expend a lot of energy firing a single arrow, it makes it easier to nock another one into position quickly. You also tend to be more accurate when you’re not straining yourself.”
“It makes sense,” Shahrzad agreed.
“I’m sure it does.” He gri
She ignored his meaningful tone as she reached back for another arrow. After she fitted it into position on the sinewed bowstring, her eyes darted to his face.
“You must know the caliph well,” she began.
His amusement faded slightly. “I’ve known Khalid since he was a little boy.”
“Are you good friends?”
“No.”
“I see.” She drew back the arrow farther and released it. This time, it sailed much closer to its target, but still managed to land buried in the sand.
“I’m older than he is, by two years. His brother, Hassan, and I grew up together; we were very close. When Hassan died, I tried to extend a hand to Khalid, but . . .” He shrugged. “He never took it.”
Shahrzad turned to face him. “I’m sorry.”