The Wrath and the Dawn(116)

“Then make sure she never comes back.”





BURNING EMBERS


THE TWO RIDERS MET IN THE MIDDLE OF A SKY-darkened desert.

One atop a simple steed of grey, and the other astride a magnificent white stallion.

Behind each stood a cadre of armed soldiers.

The rider with the white stallion spoke first. “I am told we share a common enemy.” His voice was rich and patently false.

The other rider returned his measured study.

“So it would seem, my lord.”

The first rider smiled with unctuous slowness. “You are as they described, Reza bin-Latief.”

“As are you, my lord.”

The Sultan of Parthia laughed. “I will take that as a compliment.”

“It was meant as such, my lord. Forgive me for failing to convey the sentiment properly, but I did not agree to this meeting for the purpose of exchanging banter with you.”

The sultan’s laughter echoed into the night. “A man of candor. I am pleased. Shall we cease with the pleasantries and proceed to business?”

“By all means, my lord.”

“What are your intentions regarding my bastard nephew?”

“Suffering. And annihilation.”

The sultan’s eyes gleamed with a martial light. “I see.”

“And what are yours?”

“Humiliation . . . followed by annihilation. Perhaps we could assist one another in our shared objective?”

“My assistance depends on what you have to offer, my lord.”

“For now, I can offer money and weapons. Once you secure the border and strengthen your existing forces, I will be open in my support, but until that time, I cannot risk pressing the boy’s wrath any further.”

“Understandable.”

The sultan gestured behind him, and a pair of guards brought forth a small sealed trunk. “A gesture of gold faith. Once these funds are depleted, send word, and I will dispatch more.”

Reza nodded. He glanced over his shoulder at his retinue, and two hooded figures stepped forward to collect the gold.

As one figure bent to lift the trunk, the light of a blue desert moon struck against the skin of his forearm.

On it was the mark of the scarab.

? ? ?


Shahrzad,

I’ve failed you several times. But there was one moment I failed you beyond measure. It was the day we met. The moment I took your hand and you looked up at me, with the glory of hate in your eyes. I should have sent you home to your family. But I didn’t. There was honesty in your hatred. Fearlessness in your pain. In your honesty, I saw a reflection of myself. Or rather, of the man I longed to be. So I failed you. I didn’t stay away. Then, later, I thought if I had answers, it would be enough. I would no longer care. You would no longer matter. So I continued failing you. Continued wanting more. And now I can’t find the words to say what must be said. To convey to you the least of what I owe. When I think of you, I can’t find the air to breathe. And now, though you are gone, there is no pain or fear. All I am left with is gratitude.

When I was a boy, my mother would tell me that one of the best things in life is the knowledge that your story isn’t over yet. Our story may have come to a close, but your story is still yet to be told.

Make it a story worthy of you.

I failed you in one last thing. Here is my chance to rectify it. It was never because I didn’t feel it. It was because I swore I would never say it, and a man is nothing if he can’t keep his promises.

So I write it to the sky—

I love you, a thousand times over. And I will never apologize for it.

Khalid

Khalid stood at the railing of the rooftop terrace, watching the sun rise across a clear horizon.

His broken palace of marble and stone still smoldered at the edges, cleaved on many sides.

His city was a wasteland of dark plumes and rubble. Of lost promises and heartbreak.

For a breath, he closed his eyes to the ruin.

But only for a breath.

Because it was his city. His choice. His responsibility.

He would never hide from it again.

With renewed purpose, he took the single piece of parchment and held it to the flickering torch nearby.

A corner of the page began to fold into ash, and the flames licked up the sides in shades of azure and orange.

Khalid held the burning letter before him.

Then he released its embers into the wind.