The Wrath and the Dawn(51)

She returned nothing but defiance.

“Sayyidi.” He gave Khalid a mincing bow.

“General al-Khoury. It is late. I did not expect to see you until morning.”

The shahrban frowned. “My king’s whereabouts remained uncertain. As such, I cannot stand about idly, waiting for the dawn.”

Shahrzad almost laughed.

“Your vigilance is appreciated,” Khalid replied.

He grunted in response as his gaze shifted again to Shahrzad. “I’m sure it has been a taxing evening, sayyidi. I would be happy to escort the queen to her chamber.”

“That is not necessary. I will take her there myself. Then I would like to speak to you in the antechamber.”

The shahrban nodded. “I will await your arrival, sayyidi.”

Khalid continued down the darkened hallways with Shahrzad at his side, surrounded by their retinue of bodyguards. Here, in the palace’s coolly foreboding passages of marble and stone, she witnessed his features retreat to a place far in the distance. A place no one was permitted to follow.

The only inkling she had—the only hint she was still part of his reality—was her hand wound in his.

And she did not care for it at all.

It should not matter. He should not matter.

Again, she slackened her grasp. Once more, he simply reinforced his.

The Rajput was waiting outside her chamber. He nodded to Khalid with the brusqueness of a friend as one of the guards held open the doors.

As soon as they shut behind them, Khalid released her hand.

Shahrzad turned to him, uncertain. “Why does General al-Khoury dislike me?” she asked, point-blank.

Khalid’s gaze leveled to hers. “He sees a threat.”

“Why does he see a threat?”

“Because he doesn’t understand you.”

“Does he need to understand me? Because I don’t understand him.”

Khalid inhaled through his nose. “So are you ready to answer my questions, then?”

Very well. I, too, have questions.

“What questions?”

“I’ll answer your questions when you’re ready to answer mine.”

“Khalid—”

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her brow. “Sleep well, Shazi.” His hand skimmed to her waist, as if seeking permission.

Shahrzad drew a quick breath.

This is madness. He makes me weak. He makes me forget.

I should push him away.

Yet she wanted so much to curve against him. To lose herself in honey and sunlight, and forget everything but the way it felt to be held in such a tantalizing trap of her own making.

“Thank you—for the adventure,” he said.

“You’re welcome.”

He toyed with a smile. An invitation.

But the yoke of betrayal hung about her, weighing on her every action. Shaming her for even considering a moment in his arms, and insisting she not succumb once more to the wishes of a fickle heart.

How can I desire him? After he killed Shiva? After he killed so many young girls, without explanation?

What’s wrong with me?

As she stared up at him in obvious deliberation, he took away the choice, as quickly as he had offered it.

“Good night, Shahrzad.”

She exhaled, with the worst kind of relief.

“Good night, Khalid.”

Shahrzad watched the doors as they shut behind him.

If given another chance, would I take the shot? Can I do what needs to be done?

Her fists curled at her sides.

I may not be able to kill him outright, but I must do what needs to be done.

I will learn why he killed all his brides.

And I will punish him for it.

? ? ?


He stood outside her doors.

Torn.

It was a familiar stance for him of late.

He despised it.

Khalid ignored the Rajput’s knowing grin as he began his trek toward his chamber. As usual, the bodyguard’s sense of humor was ill-timed and ill-bred.

Each step Khalid took echoed down the corridors of shadow and stone. The callous granite and blue-veined agate of his palace had provided little but a refuge for the screams of ghosts.

A haven for nightmares . . .

Until Shahrzad.

A true plague of a girl. And yet a queen in every sense of the word.

His queen.

He left the soldiers outside the antechamber leading into his private rooms.