The Rose & the Dagger (The Wrath & the Dawn, #2)(8)

Khalid tugged his linen qamis back over his head.

“Does it have anything to do with you disappearing yet again yesterday?” Jalal pressed, his agitation becoming all the more evident.

When Khalid failed to respond a second time, Jalal stepped before him.

“Khalid.” All pretense at lightheartedness was gone. “The palace is in shambles. The city is a disaster. You cannot continue disappearing for hours on end, especially without a detachment of bodyguards. Father cannot continue lying to everyone about where you are, and I . . . cannot continue lying to him.” Jalal ran his fingers through his wavy mop of hair, further setting it into disarray.

Khalid paused to study his cousin.

And was alarmed by what he saw.

Jalal’s usual veneer of smug self-satisfaction was absent. A scraggly beard shadowed his jawline. His ordinarily pristine cloak was wrinkled and smudged, and his hands seemed on an unending quest for something to grasp—a sword hilt, a sash knot, a collar loop . . . anything.

In all his eighteen years, Khalid had never known Jalal to fidget.

“What’s the matter with you?”

Jalal guffawed loudly. Too loudly. It rang so patently false that it only succeeded in disturbing Khalid further.

“Are you in earnest or in jest?” Jalal crossed his arms.

“In earnest.” Khalid took a cautious breath. “For now.”

“You want me to confide in you? I must confess, I’m galled by the irony.”

“I don’t want you to confide in me. I want you to tell me what’s wrong and stop wasting my time. If you need someone to hold your hand, seek out one of the many young women who pine outside your chamber door.”

“Ah, there it is.” A bleak expression settled on Jalal’s face. “Even you.”

At that, Khalid’s irritation reached a breaking point. “Take a bath, Jalal. A long one.” He began striding away.

“I’m going to be a father, Khalid-jan.”

Khalid stopped short. He turned in place, his heel forming a deep divot in the sand.

Jalal shrugged. A rueful smile tugged at one corner of his lips.

“You . . . unconscionable imbecile,” Khalid said.

“That’s kind.”

“Are you seeking permission to marry her?”

“She won’t have me.” He tugged his fingers through his hair again. “It appears you aren’t the only one to have noticed the harem of women outside my chamber door.”

“I like her already. At the very least, she’s wont to learn from her mistakes.” Khalid leaned into the shadows against the stone wall and shot a daggered glance at his cousin.

“That’s also kind.”

“Kindness is not among my celebrated virtues.”

“No.” Jalal laughed drily. “It’s not. Especially not of late.” His laughter gave way to a sobering pause. “Khalid-jan, you do believe me when I say my only thought was to keep Shazi safe when I told that boy—”

“I believe you.” Khalid’s voice was soft yet sharp. “As I said before, there is no need to discuss it further.”

The two young men stood in awkward silence for a time, staring into the sand.

“Tell your father.” Khalid pushed off the wall to take his leave. “He’ll make certain she and the child are provided for. Should you need anything else, you have only to ask.” He began walking away.

“I love her. I think I want to marry her.”

Again, Khalid stopped short. This time, he did not turn around.

The words stung—the ease with which they fell from his cousin’s lips. The realization of Khalid’s many shortcomings when it came to Shahrzad. The reminder of all the lost possibilities.

His chest tight, Khalid let Jalal’s words settle on the breeze . . .

Waiting to hear if they had the tenor of truth to them.

“You think?” Khalid said finally. “Or you know.”

The slightest hesitation. “I think I know.”

“Don’t equivocate, Jalal. It’s insulting. To me and to her.”

“It’s not meant to be insulting. It’s my attempt at honesty—a trait I know you hold in high esteem,” Jalal retorted. “At present—with no knowledge of her true feelings on the matter—it’s the most I can manage. I love her. I think I want to be with her.”

“Be careful, Captain al-Khoury. Those words mean different things to different people. Make sure they mean the right things to you.”

“Don’t be an ass. I mean them.”

“When did you mean them?”

“I mean them now. Isn’t that what matters?”

A muscle worked in Khalid’s jaw. “Now is easy. It’s easy to say what you want in a passing moment. That’s why a harem waits outside your door and the mother of your child won’t have you.” He strode back toward the palace.

“Then what is the right answer, sayyidi? What should I have said?” Jalal called out to the sky in exasperation.

“Always.”

“Always?”

“And don’t speak to me of this again until it is!”





STORIES AND SECRETS


IRSA CLAPPED BOTH HANDS OVER HER MOUTH, STIFLING a cry.