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Jalal braced both palms on the yew of his longbow. A slow grin spread across his sun-drenched face.
It u
“That was much better,” he said loudly. “You know, not everything has to be so difficult, Shahrzad.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Exactly what I said. Next time, just answer the question.”
“We shall see. Choose the next target, Jalal.”
His grin grew even wider. “Yes, my lady.” He studied the courtyard. Then he pointed to a slender pillar with a tabarzin axe embedded in its side. “The wi
It was by far the most difficult shot. The tabarzin’s wooden handle was quite narrow by the blade, and it was wedged into the pillar at an odd angle that all but obscured it from view. To make matters worse, the impending storm had now added a wind factor that would put to rout even the most gifted of archers.
As the wi
An impressive achievement.
Shahrzad pulled an arrow from the quiver at her back. She fitted it to the sinew and nocked it tight. Closing her eyes, she let the breeze blow against her face, calculating its trajectory. Her fingers curled around the white-feathered fletchings.
She opened her eyes and pinpointed the small stretch of wood fixed before the gleaming axe blade.
Then she loosed the arrow.
It sailed through the wind, over the sand . . . and thudded into the handle, a mere hairsbreadth from the metal.
The soldiers shouted in collective disbelief.
Jalal began laughing. “My God. Perhaps I should try my hand at not aiming.”
Shahrzad mimicked his previous bow, her arms outstretched at her sides.
His laughter grew. “Well, you’ve earned this next question, my lady. Do your worst.”
Yes. I believe I will.
It’s time I learned the truth.
She strode forward. “What is the real reason all of Khalid’s brides must die?”
It was posited in a ghost of a whisper. Only Jalal could have heard it.
But it was as though she had shouted it from the rooftops.
Jalal’s amusement vanished, doused by an urgent gravity she had never seen on his face before. “This game is over.”
Shahrzad pursed her lips. “Why is it you get to decide the rules on all fronts?”
“It’s over, Shahrzad,” he said, confiscating the recurve bow from her grasp.
“At least give me the right to ask another question.”
“No.”
“You promised me that right!”
“I’m sorry, but I ca
“Excuse me?”
“I’m sorry.” He stalked to the weapons rack and restored both the longbow and the recurve bow to their respective places.
“Jalal!” Shahrzad raced in his footsteps. “You can’t—”
He nodded to the Rajput, who began making his way over to Shahrzad.
Outraged, Shahrzad snatched a scimitar from a nearby weapons rack.
“Jalal al-Khoury!”
When he still refused to acknowledge her, Shahrzad raised the sword into the light with both hands, and the Rajput shifted closer.
“How dare you dismiss me, you horse’s ass!” she yelled.
At that, Jalal turned around, his stride off-kilter. She swung the heavy blade in a sloppy arc meant to goad him into taking her seriously.
He dodged her and reached reflexively for the scimitar at his hip. “What the hell are you doing, Shahrzad?”
“Do you think you can get away with treating me in such a ma
“Put down the sword,” he said in an uncharacteristically stern tone.
“No.”
“You have no business handling a blade like that. Put it down.”
“No!”
When she swung it again in another haphazard slice, Jalal was forced to deflect it with his own blade. The Rajput grunted loudly and withdrew his talwar, shoving Jalal away from her with a single push of his palm.
“Stop it!” Shahrzad said to the Rajput. “I don’t need your help.”
The Rajput sneered down at her with obvious disdain.
“Are you, is he—laughing at me?” Shahrzad asked incredulously.
“I imagine so,” Jalal replied.
“Unbelievable. What’s fu
“I would assume it’s both the sight of you wielding a sword in such an abysmal ma
Shahrzad spun to face the Rajput. “Well, sir, if you’re really in the business of helping me, then, instead of laughing at my ineptitude, do something about it!”
The Rajput merely continued sneering at her.
“He’s not going to help you, Shahrzad,” Jalal said, seamlessly resurrecting his smug façade. “I’d venture a guess that not many soldiers out here, save myself, would take the risk of getting within an arm’s length of you.”
“And why is that?”
“Well, by now every soldier in Rey knows what happened to the last guard who dared to put his hands on the queen. So if I were you, I’d give up on cajoling the Rajput into giving you lessons on swordplay. Even though you did ask him so nicely,” Jalal joked drily.
“Did . . .” Shahrzad frowned. “What happened to the guard?”
Jalal shrugged. “A bevy of broken bones. Your husband is not a forgiving man.”
Wonderful. Yet another attribute of note.
“So please put down the sword and go back to the palace, my lady,” Jalal finished in a firm tone.
“Don’t you dare dismiss me, Jalal al—” And Shahrzad’s rant died on her lips, before it even started.
She wanted to turn around.
Because she knew, instinctively, that he was there. There was no logical explanation for it, but she felt his presence behind her, like the subtle change in the seasons. A shift in the wind. This was not necessarily a welcome change. She did not suffer that kind of delusion. Not yet.
But even the moment when the leaves fall from their boughs—even that moment—has a beauty to it. A glory of its own.
And this change? This change made her shoulders tense and her stomach spin.
It was real . . . and terrifying.
“This moment could not be any more perfect,” Jalal muttered, glancing to his left.
Still Shahrzad did not turn around. She clenched the scimitar tight in both hands, and the Rajput stepped even closer, his talwar glinting with a silent warning.
“By Zeus, Shahrzad!” Despina cried. “Is this what happens when I leave you alone? You get into a sword fight with the captain of the guard?”
At that, Shahrzad twisted her head to the right.
Despina stood by Khalid with a look of worry and dismay on her pretty face.
Khalid was as inscrutable as ever.
As cold as always.
Shahrzad wished she could end it here and now, with the slash of a sword. She wished she could grab Khalid by the shoulders and shake a semblance of life onto his frozen countenance.
Instead, Shahrzad continued with the pretense—the one she gave to the world, and the one she gave to herself.
“Well?” Despina said.
Khalid’s eyes flicked to the handmaiden.
“I apologize, sayyidi. I did not mean to address the queen so informally.” Despina bowed in haste, her hand to her brow.
“You don’t have to apologize, Despina. I did not get into a fight with Jalal. We’re merely trading a few . . . lessons. Apparently, I am not that gifted with a sword. There are, in fact, limitations to my greatness,” Shahrzad jested.
“Thank the gods,” Despina mumbled.
“Limitations plague us all, Shahrzad.” Jalal gri
She wrinkled her nose at him, plunking the scimitar to the ground.
“What limitations?” Khalid asked quietly.
The sound of his voice slid down her back, bringing to mind cool water and sun-warmed honey. She gritted her teeth. “For one, I can’t seem to wield a sword. And that seems to be a basic premise of swordsmanship.”