The Wrath and the Dawn(38)
“I’m fine, Shahrzad. Truly.” Despina raised the lid from the tureen of soup and dropped a crystal of rock sugar into the bottom of a small etched-glass cup. Then she lifted the ornate silver pot from its resting place above a low-burning candle. As she raised it high above the glass cup and began to pour, her hand trembled, and the stream of tea splashed back from inside the cup before hitting the teapot.
“I’m sorry,” Despina mumbled.
“You’re permitted to make mistakes, on occasion.” Shahrzad smiled impishly.
“All evidence to the contrary,” she shot back under her breath.
“When did I ever make such outrageous demands?”
The lines on Despina’s brow deepened.
“Despina. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing!”
She’s lying. Again.
Shahrzad cut her eyes and tore a piece of lavash in half.
“I’m sorry.” Despina finished pouring the tea. “What were you saying about Amardha?”
“I was just commenting on the caliph’s recent journey. Do you know why he went there?”
“He’s most likely visiting the Sultan of Parthia—his uncle.”
“I see. Does he visit him often?” Shahrzad began eating her soup.
Despina shook her head. “No. They are not exactly . . . friendly. The sultan is not his uncle by blood. He’s the brother of the former caliph’s first wife. And he despised our caliph’s mother.”
Interesting.
“Why?”
Despina shrugged. “I suppose it’s for the logical reason any man would hate his dead sister’s replacement. In addition, our caliph’s mother was beautiful, smart, and vivacious. By all accounts, the first wife was . . . not.”
“Then why would the caliph visit the sultan?”
“I’m not sure. I suppose it’s for diplomatic reasons. You should ask him when he returns.”
“He won’t tell me.”
Despina gave her a half grin. “I’m glad you’re talking to me again.”
“Staying silent isn’t a good option for someone like me.”
“A wise decision. For someone like you.”
“I just said that.”
“I know.”
Shahrzad snorted. She reached for her glass of tea. Just then she noticed an unusual smattering of small, dark spots on the side of the silver teapot. She grasped the handle and drew it closer, her eyebrows tufting together. With a linen napkin, she rubbed at one of the areas of discoloration.
It did not clear away.
Shahrzad pursed her lips.
She lifted her cup of tea and poured a drop of its contents onto the pot. As soon as the liquid hit the shining surface, the silver changed color.
Black.
Like death.
“Despina?” Shahrzad began in an even tone.
“Yes?”
“I think there’s something wrong with my tea.”
WHERE YOUR HEART
LONGS TO BE
SOMEONE HAD TRIED TO POISON HER.
And it was not the tea, as Shahrzad had first suspected.
It was the sugar.
Jalal was furious.
When he confronted all those with access to her food, each person staunchly proclaimed innocence. As was customary when serving any member of the royal family, the cook had tasted all the items on Shahrzad’s tray before sending it to her room, and numerous individuals had attested to this fact.
Though no one had thought to taste the sugar.
Unsurprisingly, Shahrzad did not eat anything else the rest of the day.
And now a young servant girl accompanied every tray of food brought to Shahrzad’s room. A girl whose sole purpose in life was to taste the queen’s food and drink one last time before it entered her mouth.
A young girl who must mean something to someone.
It disgusted Shahrzad.
As did the knowledge that her time feeling safe—those fleeting moments without the weight of her impending doom hovering about her like a dark specter—had been taken away from her before she’d had a true chance to enjoy it.
But the worst part was that she knew now, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that she could not trust her handmaiden.
After all, Despina was the last person who had handled her tray of food.
The one who had prepared that fatal cup of tea.
For some reason, this fact disheartened Shahrzad more than anything else. She had not trusted Despina before, but some part of her had wanted to. Had hoped that, one day, she could be a real friend, despite everything.