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And it made Shahrzad angry.
Three nights of mostly uninterrupted sleep had not dulled the anger.
This afternoon, Shahrzad had elected to wander one of the many terraced courtyards in search of a perfect rose. The banality of this task added a feeling of uselessness to her already irritated disposition.
She wandered past another flowering hedge, her eyes squinted against the sun, and her forehead creased with frustration.
“If you’ll tell me what you’re looking for, I can help,” Despina offered.
“No. You can’t.”
“My, but you’re in a mood.”
“You really can’t help me. There’s an art to a perfect rose. The scent. The color. The arrangement of the petals. My father even argues that one too many petals can ruin the entire flower . . . can disturb the way it grows.”
“And I would argue the prettiest flowers are the ones that seem a little imperfect.”
“See? You can’t help me,” Shahrzad groused.
Just then she felt Despina stiffen by her side.
“What’s wrong?” Shahrzad asked.
“Cap—Captain al-Khoury is coming down the stairs.” Her flush spread from throat to hairline.
“So? Why are you nervous?”
Despina hesitated. “Ever since the incident with the tea, I’ve felt uncomfortable around him.”
“I see.” Shahrzad pursed her lips, fighting to contain the accusations.
As Jalal stepped into view, Despina took special pains to scramble behind the Rajput, out of sight. Jalal curved a languid eyebrow in her direction and then turned to Shahrzad.
“How are you this afternoon, Shahrzad?” He bowed with an easy grin, his gold-trimmed cloak spilling over one shoulder and a hand resting casually on the hilt of his scimitar.
“Alive.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “I’m glad to see it. Are you in the midst of something important?”
“Of course. I have a possible coup in the works. Then I intend to draw up plans for a new form of trade involving elephants at sea and sails of spun silk. Would you care to join me?”
He smiled. “Only in the coup. The rest sounds a bit commonplace, if you ask me.”
Shahrzad laughed. “No, of course I’m not doing anything important. I’m firmly entrenched in the mundane. Please rescue me.”
“Actually, I was wondering if you could do something . . . queenly for me.”
“Queenly? What do you mean?”
“We have an unexpected visitor. I was wondering if you could receive him, in the caliph’s absence.”
“Who is it?”
“He’s—a scholar, so to speak. He was Khalid’s first tutor, as well as the lifelong tutor of Khalid’s mother. He has not seen Khalid since he was a little boy. I know he meant a great deal to his mother, and I would hate to send him along without receiving him formally.” He winked.
Shahrzad could not help but smile.
“Additionally, I assume the visit may satisfy some . . . lingering curiosities.” Jalal gri
“Why, Captain al-Khoury, you make it sound so . . . intriguing.”
He laughed. “So are you coming, Shahrzad?”
She nodded, her hazel eyes sparkling.
“I have to warn you, he’s a bit—odd,” Jalal stated as he began retracing his steps, with Shahrzad and her tiny retinue in tow.
“How so?”
“He’s a relic of days past. Very devoted to the ancient arts. But I think you’ll like him, and I know he’ll be very pleased to meet you.”
“What’s his name?”
“Musa Zaragoza.”
“That’s a very unusual name,” Shahrzad said.
“He’s Moorish.”
“Ah, I see. Well, I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will.”
They continued up the numerous flights of stairs and into the cool marble hallways. Jalal led them to a large room with a domed ceiling five times the height of a man. Its walls were tiled and covered with painstakingly carved reliefs, depicting battle scenes long forgotten of warriors brandishing their weapons and vanquishing their foes.
In the corner stood a very tall man draped in garments of vibrant fabric. His deep blue rida’ fell to the floor, and its hood was wound about his head, secured by a circlet of leather and gold. Thick mankalah cuffs were wrapped around both wrists, and his beautiful dark skin reminded Shahrzad of the finest Medjool date.
When he turned to face her, he smiled so widely his teeth seemed to glow white, like pearls set against ebony.
Jalal and Despina left her at the door, and the Rajput stood inside nearby, his sword at the ready.
Shahrzad returned her guest’s smile and walked toward him.
What do I say?
“Welcome!” she began. “I am—Shahrzad.”
He glided to her in a swirl of colors, his hands outstretched.
“And I am Musa. What a privilege to meet you.” It was an intense voice, like honey and smoke.
Shahrzad took his hands. Standing so close to him, she realized he was actually a great deal older than he appeared. His eyebrows were peppered with white, and the fine lines etched about his face indicated a propensity for deep thought and a predilection for amusement. As he grasped her hands, Shahrzad saw something register in his rich brown eyes, but it came and went in a flash.
“Thank you so much, Musa-effendi. I am so sorry my—the caliph is not here to greet you.”
He shook his head. “It is my fault for coming here una
“Please sit.” Shahrzad gestured toward the cushions surrounding the low table to her right, and they took their places across from each other. “Would you care for something to eat?”
“No, no. I ca
“It is not an imposition, in any way. I would not have such an esteemed guest leave the palace hungry.” Shahrzad gri
He laughed. The sound seemed to leap from wall to wall.
“And how do you know I am esteemed? Were you not told the truth?” His mouth twitched with humor.
“And what is the truth, Musa-effendi?”
“That the last time I was in this palace, I was thrown out on my heels, with nothing but the clothes on my back.”
Shahrzad controlled her expression. She took a deep breath and folded her hands in her lap. “Well, it seems we owe you at least a meal, then, sir.”
His laughter burst from his mouth once more, even bolder than before.
“Thank the stars for you, my lovely child. What light you must bring to my poor Khalid.”
Light may not be the appropriate word.
She offered him a small smile in response.
“As I feared, this is not a harmonious marriage,” Musa said gently. “Is there any hope for one?”
“In truth, it is too soon to tell. We have only been married a few days. And marriage to the caliph is—somewhat difficult.”
“So I’ve heard.” His voice was knowing and sad. “And do you wish for a harmonious marriage with him?”
Shahrzad shifted uncomfortably in her seat. For some reason, lying to this strangely garbed man with the rich laugh and the probing eyes seemed . . . wrong.
“I long for a marriage based on love and mutual respect, Musa-effendi. Whether it is possible with the caliph remains to be seen.”
“Ah, so honest. Khalid values such honesty above all else. He craves it. Even as a small child, he sought the truth with a kind of fervor I’ve rarely encountered in any individual. Do you know this about him?”
“I know very little about his past.”
He nodded. “Tell me, beyond the rumors, what kind of man has Leila’s son become?”
Shahrzad paused and studied the kind face of the stranger across from her.
If I answer his questions, will he answer mine?
“A quiet one. A smart one.”
“These things I could find out on the streets of Rey. I want to know the things you know. The things a clever young girl has deduced, even in such a short time.”