The Wrath and the Dawn(100)
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 cannot maintain this farce for much longer. If you do not find a way to sleep—”
“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.”