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“I understand.”
“Sayyidi, I must implore you. No matter how repugnant, stay the prior course. This option . . . will not end well.”
“Your counsel is noted. And appreciated,” Khalid said in a low tone.
The faqir nodded.
Khalid bowed his head. The faqir raised both his palms to Khalid’s temples, leaving just enough space for silk to pass, then closed his eyes. The air in the antechamber stilled. The flames in the lamps grew tall and lean. When the faqir’s eyes opened once more, they glowed with the light of a full moon. Between his hands, a warm red-orange fireburst spread up and around the entirety of Khalid’s brow. The circle pulsed yellow, then white, spiraling upward all the while, before it retracted back into the faqir’s clawed hands.
Once the magic had faded back to the realm of its origins, the faqir dropped his hands.
Khalid raised his head. The pounding was less profound, if still present, and his eyelids were not as heavy as before. “Thank you.”
“Soon there will come a time when I will not deserve such words, sayyidi.”
“You will always deserve such words, no matter what happens.”
The faqir’s frustration further marred his features. “Would that all of Khorasan could see the king I see, sayyidi.”
“They would not be much impressed. For I did bring all of this upon myself, did I not? And, as a consequence, they have had to endure the unthinkable.”
The faqir bowed with his fingertips to his brow, then floated to the door.
Before exiting, he turned. “How long should a man pay for his mistakes, sayyidi?”
Khalid did not hesitate.
“Until all debts are forgiven.”
THE HONOR OF BETRAYAL
WHEN SHAHRZAD AWOKE THE NEXT MORNING, sunlight streamed through the opened screens leading to the terrace. A fresh arrangement of citrus blossoms lay on a small stool next to the raised platform.
At the sight of the white flowers by her bed, her first thought was of Khalid. She stretched her arms, trying her best to ignore the pang of guilt that ensued.
“Do you like them?” Despina asked. “I thought you might.”
Shahrzad raised her head from the pillow. “What?”
“You have a rather strange preoccupation with flowers, so I asked them to bring some to your room.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
Despina snorted. “You don’t sound grateful. You sound disappointed.”
Shahrzad rolled over. She rose from the bed and slipped into her shamla.
I hate that she notices everything. Almost as much as I hate her for being right.
As Shahrzad stepped from the platform, Despina removed the lid from the tureen of soup.
And Shahrzad heard her stifle a gasp in the process.
“What’s wrong?” Shahrzad took a seat on the cushions before the low table.
“Nothing,” Despina squeaked.
Shahrzad gazed at her handmaiden, and her heart lurched.
Despina’s brow was beaded with sweat. Her usually flawless coloring of delicate ivory and blushing coral was decidedly green and sallow. Tension darkened every crease. Her graceful fingers trembled next to her beautifully draped dress of lilac linen.
She looked exactly as she had the day Shahrzad’s tea had been poisoned.
“Where is the servant who tastes my food?” Shahrzad’s voice wavered at the end of her question.
“She just left.” It was a terse response, pushed forth from unwilling lips.
Shahrzad nodded. “Fine. I’ll ask you once more, Despina. What’s wrong?”
Despina shook her head, backing away from the table.
“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong, Shahrzad.”
Shahrzad stood up, jangling the edge of the tray. “Don’t make me do this!”
“Do what?”
“Why do you look scared?”
“I’m not scared!”
“Come here.”
Despina hesitated before striding back to the table. As she stood alongside Shahrzad, her trembling worsened, and she pressed her mouth into a single, bright pink line.
Shahrzad’s heartbreak began anew. “Sit down.”
“What?” The word passed through clenched teeth.
“Sit down, Despina!”
“I—no.”
“No?”
“I—can’t, Shahrzad!” She shuffled away from the table, raising a hand to her lips.
“How could you?” Shahrzad whispered.
“What?” Despina gasped.
“Stop lying to me!” She seized Despina by the wrist and dragged her closer. “Why?”
The flat of Despina’s hand remained clamped over her mouth as she glanced at the tray of food below.
“Answer me!” Shahrzad wailed. “How could you do this?”
Despina shook her head, the beads of sweat dripping from her brow.
“Despina!”
Then, with a retching sound, Despina snatched the lid of the soup tureen and began vomiting into it.
Shahrzad stood there in shock, her eyes huge as she watched her handmaiden sink to the floor in a miserable heap, clutching the silver lid in both hands.
Once Despina’s suffering had lessened to dry heaving, she peered up at Shahrzad through tear-stained lashes.
“You—are a miserable brat, Shahrzad al-Khayzuran,” she choked.
At first, Shahrzad could think of no way to string together a coherent response. “I—you’re—Despina, are you . . .” Shahrzad trailed off. Then she cleared her throat. “Well, are you?”
Despina rose to her knees, blotting her forehead on her arm. She sighed in defeat. “I truly despise you right now.”
“Hate me or don’t hate me. But answer my failed attempt at a question.”
Despina expelled a pained breath. “Yes.”
Shahrzad fell back against the cushions in disbelief.
“Holy Hera.”
Despina laughed hoarsely. “I must say, you do
“Well, what else was I supposed to think? Especially after last week’s incident with the tea. I suppose you were sick that day, too?”
The handmaiden sighed again.
“Despina,” Shahrzad said, “who is the father?”
“Now, that question I won’t answer.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because you share a bed with the Caliph of Khorasan.”
“Ah, the web of secrets grows thicker every day!” Shahrzad retorted. “So is he the father?”
“No!”
“Then why does that matter?”
Despina sat back on her heels. “Because I can’t trust that you won’t tell him.”
“What? I don’t tell him anything.”
“You don’t need to. Your eyes search for him the moment they leave this room.”
“They do not!” Shahrzad screeched.
“By Zeus, my ears.” Despina clutched the side of her head. “Don’t yell. I beg of you.”
“I won’t tell Khalid. I swear.”
“Khalid?” The edges of Despina’s lips curved upward. “I know you’re tenacious in your endeavors, Brat Calipha, but I would give up on this one. You’re bound to be disappointed when your attempts at persuasion prove futile on me . . .”
Shahrzad frowned.
“After all, I am not the King of Kings.”
“Enough!” Shahrzad flushed. “Tell me who it is.”
“I’m very sorry, Shahrzad, but I am not telling you. I simply can’t.”
“You can’t?” Shahrzad mulled over the word. “Then he must be someone of import.”
“Don’t push the matter.” Despina’s voice was tight.
“I wonder . . .” Shahrzad disregarded Despina’s look of warning and drummed her fingers along her chin. “It can’t be the Rajput or any of the other palace guards. There would be no reason for someone as bold as you to conceal that.”
“Shahrzad—”
“So,” Shahrzad continued, “it must be either the Shahrban of Rey, which is preposterous, or . . .” Her expression smoothed in sudden understanding. “Jalal.”