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It looked foreign on his usually cold and angular face.
Foreign, yet wondrously striking.
The tightening in her chest . . . would have to be ignored.
At all cost.
• • •
They stood in a small alley next to the entrance of the souk. The sky above was purpled by dusk, and the mixture of spices, sweat, and livestock filled the spring air with the heady perfume of life, in all its abundance.
Shahrzad pulled her dark grey cloak tight about her. The crystal of poisoned sugar she had stolen away in her pocket felt like it would catch flame at a thought.
The caliph’s keen ochre eyes took in the scene around them. His black rida’ was bound across his brow by a slim circlet of matching leather.
“Have you been to Rey’s souk before?” she whispered.
“No.”
“Stay close. It’s very much like a labyrinth. Each year it grows bigger, its corridors snaking about without rhyme or reason.”
“And here I had every intention of leaving you behind to explore on my own,” he murmured.
“Are you trying to be fu
His brow furrowed. “You can’t use that word here, Shahrzad.”
A fair point. Especially considering the riots against him in the city streets.
“You’re right . . . Khalid.”
He expelled a quick breath. “And what should I call you?”
“Excuse me?”
“What do your friends call you?”
She hesitated.
Why am I trying to protect a silly nickname Rahim gave me when I was ten?
“Shazi.”
A suggestion of a smile played across his lips.
“Shazi. It suits you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Come with me.”
With that, Shahrzad left the safety of the shadows and darted out into the bustling crowds of Rey’s most active outdoor market. The Caliph of Khorasan followed closely behind as they passed under the archway and into the sweltering maze of people and goods.
To their right were vendors plying food wares—sugared dates and other dried fruits, an assortment of nuts in water-stained wood barrels, mountains of spices piled high in vivid hues—and to their left were vendors of spun cloth, dyed fabric, and skeins of yarn idling in a faint breeze, their colors like a ba
Until a young man leapt from behind a post to wrap Shahrzad in a bolt of bright orange silk. “So beautiful!” he sighed. “You must buy this. It suits you so.”
“I think not.” She shook her head, pushing his hands away.
He pulled her closer against him. “Have I seen you before, miss? I would not forget such beauty.”
“No, you have not,” Khalid said in a low tone.
The young man smirked back at him. “I am not having a conversation with you. I am having a conversation with the most beautiful girl I have seen in a long time.”
“No. You are having a conversation with my wife. And you are quite close to having the last conversation of your life.” His voice was as cold as the edge of a dagger.
Shahrzad glared at the young man. “And if you want to sell me fabric, being a lecherous bastard is not the way to go about doing it.” She shoved against his chest, hard.
“Daughter of a whore,” he muttered.
Khalid froze, his knuckles turning a perilous shade of white.
Shahrzad grabbed his arm and dragged him away. She could see the muscles ticking along his jaw.
“You know, you have quite a temper,” she remarked after they had cleared some distance.
He said nothing.
“Khalid?”
“Is that kind of disrespect . . . normal?”
Shahrzad lifted a shoulder. “It’s not normal. But it’s not unexpected. It’s the curse of being a woman,” she joked in a morose ma
“It’s obscene. He deserves to be flogged.”
Says the king who murders a bride every morning.
They continued strolling through the souk, and Shahrzad was surprised to note that Khalid now walked firmly in her shadow, with his hand grazing her lower back. His eyes, which were usually vigilant, appeared even more watchful than before.
She sighed to herself.
He notices everything. This will be even more difficult than I thought.
Shahrzad led him through a maze of small alleyways, past vendors of oil and imported vinegar, rugs and fine lamps, perfumes and other cosmetics, until she came to a thoroughfare filled with purveyors of food and drink. She directed him to a small, crowded establishment with outdoor seating.
“What are we doing here?” Khalid demanded quietly as she pushed him into a chair by an available table near the front.
“I’ll be right back.” She smiled at his irritation as she weaved her way through the crowd.
When she returned a short time later with two cups and a pitcher of wine, the corners of his eyes constricted.
“They are famous for their sweet wine,” Shahrzad explained.
He crossed his arms.
Shahrzad gri
“Where did you get the money?” He took the cup from her.
She rolled her eyes. “I stole it. From the perfidious Sultan of Parthia.” As he raised the cup to his lips, she saw him smile. “Do you like it?”
He tilted his head in consideration. “It’s different.” Then he reached over and filled the other cup for her.
They sat for a time in comfortable silence, taking in the sights and sounds of the souk, drinking wine and enjoying the raucous conversations of those in various states of inebriation around them.
“So,” she interjected in a conversational tone. “Why are you having difficulty sleeping?”
Her question seemed to catch him off guard.
He stared at her over the rim of his cup.
“Do you have nightmares?” she probed.
He inhaled carefully. “No.”
“What was your last dream?”
“I don’t remember.”
“How come you don’t remember?”
“Do you remember your last dream?”
Shahrzad canted her lips to the side in thought. “Yes.”
“Tell me what it was about.”
“It’s a bit a strange.”
“Most dreams are.”
“I was in a grassy field with . . . my best friend. We were twirling. I was holding her hands. We were spi
Khalid stayed silent for a moment.
“You have a beautiful laugh. Like the promise of tomorrow.” He said it gently, with the poise of an afterthought.
And Shahrzad’s heart hurtled about in response, roaring for attention.
Shiva, I swear to you, I will ignore the fickle little beast.
She refused to look at him as she drank from her cup and remained proud of herself for this display of fortitude, until she felt his entire body go rigid across from her.
A sandaled foot came crashing to a stop on the empty seat nearby.
“If it isn’t the beautiful girl with the barbed tongue,” a voice slurred from above.
When she gazed upward, her eyes thi
“Apparently, this is too popular a venue,” Khalid said, the tension banding across his features.
“For lecherous bastards and kings of old alike,” Shahrzad retorted under her breath.
“What?” the young man drawled, the wine clearly impairing his comprehension.
“Never mind. What do you want?” Shahrzad asked with a spark of a
The young man leered down at her. “Perhaps I may have been a bit forward earlier. But I’d like to share a recent observation. This one here?” He gestured toward Khalid with his thumb. “He seems entirely too grumpy for a girl like you. I think you’re much better suited for a man with charm. Such as myself.”