The Wrath and the Dawn(13)
Shahrzad paused in consideration. “So he sent you here to spy on me?”
Despina’s white teeth flashed in her face. “Yes.”
“Are you a good spy?”
“The best.”
“A good spy would hide her identity.”
“The best spies don’t have to.”
Shahrzad smiled at this, in spite of herself. “You’re arrogant.”
“As are you, my lady Shahrzad. But I do not see this as a shortcoming. For without a measure of arrogance, how can one attempt the impossible?”
Shahrzad stepped down from the platform to stand before Despina.
The girl stood half a head taller, and everything about her radiated confidence and a sense of surety as to her place in the world. From her artfully draped dress to her impeccably enhanced features, it was clear Despina was a force to be reckoned with.
But her eyes caught Shahrzad’s attention more than anything else.
They were the watchful eyes of a hunter.
And they mirrored her own.
She warned me she was a spy. Why did she warn me?
“Would you like to eat something? Or do you plan to go on a hunger strike? If that’s the case, do your worst, for I believe a hunger strike will kill a pretty little imp like you long before our caliph does.”
Shahrzad laughed wryly. “That’s the best worst compliment anyone has ever paid me.”
“You’re welcome.” Despina spun around in a whirl of white linen, the scent of jessamine saturating the air about her. Shahrzad followed her to the table in the corner. The tray atop it was covered with lavash bread, a round of goat cheese enfolded in sweet preserves, a tureen of soup, and a halved pomegranate, its seeds glistening like garnets in the warm light spilling from the terrace. An ornate silver pot of cardamom tea sat over a low burning flame.
Despina removed the lid from the tureen and began to prepare the tea, placing a sparkling crystal of rock sugar in the bottom of a small etched-glass cup.
As she sat on the cushions, Shahrzad reached for a piece of lavash.
The handmaiden peered through her eyelashes at Shahrzad while she poured the tea in a slender stream from high above the glass. “I meant what I said; I do hope you succeed, my lady.” Her tone was filled with quiet circumspection.
“Please call me Shahrzad.”
“Shahrzad.” Despina grinned at her.
Shahrzad could not prevent herself from returning the gesture.
Be very careful.
? ? ?
An hour later, with Despina’s help, Shahrzad had bathed and dressed in another elaborate ensemble of silk and damask. A slim circlet of silver, spangled with pearls and tiny blue sapphires, adorned her brow. Around her neck was another fetter, made to match. Thin diamond bangles clinked together on her left wrist with every movement.
“Am I allowed to leave?” she asked, once Despina had put the final flourish on the kohl lining her eyelids.
Despina nodded. “You can roam most of the palace, as long as you’re with the Rajput.”
“The Rajput?”
The corners of Despina’s eyes crinkled with a mixture of dry humor and pity. “The caliph is apparently so enamored, he has gifted you a member of his personal bodyguard.”
Shahrzad balled her hands into fists. “So I necessitate a spy and a ready executioner?”
“More or less.”
Hate is not the right word for such a man.
“Who is the Rajput?” Shahrzad spat.
“At one point, he was known as the Scourge of Hindustan. He’s the best swordsman in Rey, perhaps in all of Khorasan. A devotee of the talwar. There’s only one other swordsman in Rey who comes close, but even he has never bested the Rajput.”
Well, this information might be beneficial in the future.
“Who is the second-best swordsman in Rey?”
Despina’s brow furrowed. “I expected better of you.”
“What?”
“I thought you would make it a point to be informed.”
“Forgive me for neglecting to carry around a list of the ten best swordsmen in Khorasan,” Shahrzad shot back.
“I suppose this information wouldn’t be readily available to a young girl with a librarian for a father. It isn’t exactly posted on walls for public viewing.”
“My father is a curator of ancient texts and the smartest man I know. He was a vizier for the former caliph.” Shahrzad cut her eyes.