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Shahrzad stood frozen, a mask of ice and stone between her palms.
When she did nothing, Khalid brushed back the hair from her face with a touch that soothed and burned all at once.
“I’m sorry, joonam. For the secrets. For the locked doors. For everything. I promise to tell you one day. But not yet. Trust that some secrets are safer behind lock and key,” he said quietly.
Joonam. He’d called her that before. My everything.
As on the night she’d told the tale of Tala and Mehrdad, why did it have such a ring of truth to it?
“I—” She bit her lower lip in an effort to keep it still. To stop the fount of words longing to spring forth.
Longing to confess the yearnings of a capricious heart.
“Forgive me, a thousand times over, for wounding you.” He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.
I’m lost to him. I can’t ignore it any longer.
Shahrzad closed her eyes in defeat and slid her palms to his chest. Then she reached behind him in an embrace of sandalwood and sun. Khalid wrapped both his arms around Shahrzad, and they stood together under the dome of the Grand Portico, with the indecipherable art of love poems giving silent testament.
• • •
The hollow in his chest was nothing now.
He would gladly go back to that, if it meant never having to witness this sight again.
When Tariq first entered the vestibule leading into the Grand Portico, he thought he was in the wrong place. It was so quiet. There was no way Shahrzad could be here.
Then, when he rounded the corner, he saw the reason for the silence.
It stopped him like a dagger hurled through the air.
The boy-king was holding Shahrzad in his arms. Placing a gentle kiss on her brow.
And Shahrzad was leaning into his embrace.
Tariq watched as she shifted her slender fingers to the boy-king’s back and drew him closer, resting her cheek against his chest as a weary traveler to the bole of a tree.
The worst part of it all—the part that took the very breath from Tariq’s body—was the unguarded look of peace on her face.
As though this was right. As though she wanted nothing more.
Shahrzad was in love with Shiva’s murderer.
The guard behind him deliberately made noise. Apparently, he did not care to learn the consequences of eavesdropping on the Caliph of Khorasan.
From the distant shadows to Tariq’s right, Shahrzad’s mammoth bodyguard twisted into view, flashing a silver blade and a guise of punishing promise.
But the thing that truly gave Tariq pause was the reaction of the boy-king.
The supposed aging camel.
At the first hint of an unforeseen threat, he pulled Shahrzad behind him. He shielded her in a menacing stance augmented by the metallic rasp of his shamshir, which he held steady in his right hand, with the blade pointed to the floor—
Poised to attack.
The boy-king’s usually expressionless face was drawn and tight, with signs of barely leashed fury rippling along his jaw. His eyes blazed like molten rock, livid and single-minded in their purpose.
Shahrzad grabbed the boy-king’s shoulder.
“Khalid!” she cried. “What are you doing?”
He did not waver.
Now Tariq understood Shahrzad’s plea from last night.
This was not a bored, dispassionate king who sent his wife to fight his battles.
This was definitely something more.
Something Tariq needed time to consider.
And time . . . to rip out his heart, in kind.
Tariq gri
“Are we not meeting here for the hunt?” he asked.
• • •
Khalid regarded Nasir al-Ziyad’s son with mounting irritation.
The boy’s explanation for his intrusion into the Grand Portico was absurd. His stupidity had nearly cost him his life.
Under normal circumstances, Khalid would not have reacted in such a ma
Ignoring any threat from the Sultan of Parthia, no matter how inconsequential, had always proved to be unwise.
Khalid did not know who this foolish boy was or where his allegiances might lie. Yesterday, such matters were not of pressing import. Yesterday, the boy was but a mild nuisance. The only reason he had sparked Khalid’s interest at all was because of the way he’d looked at Shahrzad today. It was not in the ma
The vast majority of Khalid’s guests were mindful of such behavior. The ones who didn’t were of note, but they had reputations to match—morally reprehensible men with lascivious eyes that latched on to anything in their general vicinity.
Tariq Imran al-Ziyad did not linger on Shahrzad with the eye of man appreciating form.
What Shahrzad had to say mattered to the boy. As did the thoughts behind her words.
Khalid walked beside Nasir al-Ziyad’s son down the stairs into the next tier of gardens as they made their way to the stables. His guards trailed close behind them.
“Please permit me to apologize again, sayyidi.” The boy adjusted his mankalah with another sheepish grin.
Khalid continued through the garden, glancing sideways at the boy.
“Rest assured, I’ve noted the difference between a portico and a promenade, sayyidi.”
“It would have served me better had you known that today,” Khalid muttered.
The boy laughed, and the sound was rich. An easy laugh that inspired others to take part. “Thank you for not cutting me to ribbons, sayyidi.”
“Thank the queen. Had I been alone, things might have gone differently.”
The boy’s assertive gait faltered a step. “May I congratulate you, sayyidi? The queen—you seem well suited to each other.”
An ever-increasing nuisance. Khalid halted and faced the boy.
He was half a hand taller than Khalid and broad in the shoulder. It needled Khalid to look up at such a fool. “Shahrzad is a difficult girl, and I am a monster. I suppose that makes for a good match.”
The boy’s pale eyes flared at Khalid’s words.
“You’re offended.” Khalid watched his features intently. “By which part?”
“By—all of it, sayyidi.”
The boy was not a gifted liar. The mild nuisance was now a full-blown concern.
When the boy attempted to crack the awkward silence with another charming smile, Khalid proceeded down the path.
“Are you married, Tariq Imran al-Ziyad?”
“No, sayyidi. But I plan on marrying soon.”
“Then you are engaged.”
“Yes, sayyidi. To a girl I’ve loved for many years.”
The boy appeared to be telling the truth.
“Which is why I congratulated you earlier. It is a great gift to find lasting love—one that gives for every bit it takes,” the boy stated with unusual conviction.
It was the first interesting thing the boy had contributed to their conversation. And it did not sit well with Khalid.
After a time, they approached the stables, and Jalal wandered out to greet them. His head slanted with puzzlement when he saw the foolish boy. Then he nodded with welcome and the boy smiled back.
“Again, sayyidi, I apologize for earlier. Please thank the queen on my behalf. It appears I owe her my life.” The boy bowed low before Khalid and sauntered toward the stables, his white rida’ trailing behind him.
“What happened?” Jalal asked once he was out of earshot.
Khalid did not respond.
“All is well with you and Shazi?” Jalal pressed.
Khalid continued staring after Nasir al-Ziyad’s son.
“Khalid?”