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She tugged on his arm. “Liar.”
“Shahrzad—”
“No. Tell me the truth, or I’m leaving your chamber.”
Khalid remained silent, the beast in his head roaring with untold vigor.
Shahrzad choked back a sob. “Again. And again.” She spun on her heel and glided toward the ebony doors.
“Stop!” Khalid tried to go after her, but his head throbbed and his sight distorted to such a degree that following her was impossible. With an incoherent slur, Khalid dropped his shamshir and sank to his knees, his palms clutching either side of his head.
“Khalid!” Shahrzad gasped. She ran back and crouched beside him. “What is it?”
He could not respond.
Khalid heard her race to the doors and yank one open.
“My lady?” a guard inquired.
“Find Captain—no, General al-Khoury,” Shahrzad insisted. “Right away.”
She waited by the door until a soft knock struck a short while later.
“My lady Shahrzad,” his uncle began. “Is everything—”
“His head. Please. He’s—in a lot of pain.” The sound of fear in her voice u
“Stay with him. I’ll return shortly.”
The door closed.
Shahrzad returned to his side. Khalid leaned back against the edge of his bed and braced his elbows on his knees, pressing both palms to his forehead with enough force to paint stars across his vision.
When the door opened once more, Shahrzad stiffened. He felt her draw closer in wary protectiveness.
“Sayyidi.” The voice of the faqir echoed from above him.
Khalid sighed, his eyes still squeezed shut.
“My lady,” his uncle said. “Please come with me.”
Her body tensed even further, gearing for battle. “I—”
“Shahrzad-jan,” his uncle interjected very gently. “Please.”
“No,” Khalid rasped. He reached out a hand for her. “She stays.”
“Khalid-jan—”
Khalid forced opened his screaming eyes and stared up at his uncle.
“My wife stays.”
AVA
SHAHRZAD DID NOT KNOW WHAT TO MAKE OF THE scene unfolding before her.
The strange old man garbed in white did not walk with the gait of a normal person. He did not blink, nor did he appear to breathe.
And he was studying her with such piercing intent that it twisted her stomach into a coil of knots.
“Sayyidi,” the strange man repeated, shifting closer to Khalid.
Without a word, Khalid bowed his head. The man raised his palms beside Khalid’s temples. Then he closed his eyes. Shahrzad felt the air in the room still. A peculiar sensation settled around her heart, sliding chills down her back.
When the strange man opened his eyes once more, they glowed white, like the blinding center of a flame. Between his hands, a warm, red-orange fireburst spread around the entirety of Khalid’s brow.
The peculiar feeling in her chest flared, and Shahrzad smothered a gasp. It reminded her of that afternoon last week . . . with the floating carpet.
The circle of light around Khalid’s head pulsed yellow, flashing brighter before spiraling up into the darkness. Then it retracted back into the old man’s clawed hands.
And the sensation around her heart disappeared.
Khalid exhaled carefully. His shoulders rolled forward, and the tension began easing from his body.
“Thank you,” he whispered to the man, his voice parched and raw.
Shahrzad gazed up at this strange wielder of magic. Again, he was staring down at her with an oddly discerning expression.
“Thank you,” Shahrzad reiterated, at a loss.
The old man frowned, his unblinking eyes awash with discomfort. “Sayyidi—”
“Your counsel is always appreciated. I’m aware of your concerns,” Khalid interrupted in a quiet tone.
The old man paused. “It’s getting worse. And it will only continue to progress in this fashion.”
“Again, I understand.”
“Forgive my insolence, sayyidi, but you do not. I warned you before, and now my worst fears are coming to fruition. You ca
“Please.” Khalid rose to his feet.
The old man drifted back and bowed with preternatural grace.
“Again, I thank you.” Khalid returned the bow and raised his hand to his forehead in respect.
“Do not thank me, sayyidi,” the old man replied as he floated to the ebony doors. “My service is to the hope for a great king. See that you grant him the chance to prove me right.” He grasped a bronze handle, stopping to glance at Shahrzad once more before disappearing into the darkness, leaving them alone.
Khalid eased onto the edge of the bed, his eyes bloodshot and his features holding fast to traces of strain.
Shahrzad sat down next to him. She said nothing for a time, and the air grew thick, laden with their unspoken thoughts.
Then he turned his head toward her. “Before—”
“You can’t sleep?” she interjected in a small voice.
He inhaled through his nose. “No.”
“Why?”
Khalid bent forward, his black hair grazing his forehead.
She reached for his hand. “Tell me.”
He peered sideways at her, and his look of misery robbed her of breath.
Shahrzad wrapped both her hands around one of his. “Please, Khalid.”
He nodded once. “Before I start, I need you to know how sorry I am.”
Her pulse wavered. “For what?”
“For everything. But mostly for what I’m about to tell you.”
“I don’t—”
“It’s a burden, Shazi,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “This secret is an encumbrance I never wanted for you. Once you know it, it can’t be taken back. Whatever happens, its cold certainty will remain with you. The fear, the worry, the guilt—they become yours.”
Shahrzad inhaled carefully. “I won’t say I understand, because I don’t. But if it’s your burden—if it causes you to suffer—I wish to know.”
Khalid studied the stretch of black onyx before him. “Her name was Ava.”
“Ava?”
“My first wife. I married her not long after I turned seventeen. It was an arranged marriage. One I arranged to avoid what I considered a far worse fate. How wrong I was.”
Khalid laced his fingers through hers.
“I was never meant to rule Khorasan. My brother, Hassan, was raised to take the throne. When he died in battle, it was too late for my father to rectify the years he had spent punishing me for my mother’s perceived transgressions. There was no relationship between us—nothing but memories of blood and dreams of retribution. Upon his death, I was as unprepared to rule as any boy filled with hate would be. As you once said—I was predictable. Predictably angry. Predictably jaded.”
Shahrzad watched Khalid’s weary eyes fade in recollection.
“I was also determined to be everything my father despised in a king. Before he died, he had wanted me to marry Yasmine—to unite the kingdoms of Khorasan and Parthia. Following his death, his advisors continued to push for the match. Even Uncle Aref felt it was a wise, albeit unfortunate, decision. I was adamant in my refusal—to the point where I dismissed my father’s remaining advisors and sought my own counsel.”
Shahrzad’s features tightened. “You despise Yasmine that much?”
Khalid shook his head. “Yasmine is not without her merits, but I never felt real affection for her. More than that, I could not willingly join my family with that of Salim Ali el-Sharif. When my mother was alive, he treated her like a rich man’s whore, and he never failed to exploit any opportunity to speak ill of her after her death. Even as a boy, I remember longing for the day when I would be strong enough to punish him for the things he said.” A corner of his lips quirked upward in bitter amusement.