The Wrath and the Dawn(55)

“No!”

“Then why does that matter?”

Despina sat back on her heels. “Because I can’t trust that you won’t tell him.”

“What? I don’t tell him anything.”

“You don’t need to. Your eyes search for him the moment they leave this room.”

“They do not!” Shahrzad screeched.

“By Zeus, my ears.” Despina clutched the side of her head. “Don’t yell. I beg of you.”

“I won’t tell Khalid. I swear.”

“Khalid?” The edges of Despina’s lips curved upward. “I know you’re tenacious in your endeavors, Brat Calipha, but I would give up on this one. You’re bound to be disappointed when your attempts at persuasion prove futile on me . . .”

Shahrzad frowned.

“After all, I am not the King of Kings.”

“Enough!” Shahrzad flushed. “Tell me who it is.”

“I’m very sorry, Shahrzad, but I am not telling you. I simply can’t.”

“You can’t?” Shahrzad mulled over the word. “Then he must be someone of import.”

“Don’t push the matter.” Despina’s voice was tight.

“I wonder . . .” Shahrzad disregarded Despina’s look of warning and drummed her fingers along her chin. “It can’t be the Rajput or any of the other palace guards. There would be no reason for someone as bold as you to conceal that.”

“Shahrzad—”

“So,” Shahrzad continued, “it must be either the Shahrban of Rey, which is preposterous, or . . .” Her expression smoothed in sudden understanding. “Jalal.”

Despina burst into laughter. “The captain of the guard? Even I’m not that bold. What makes you—”

“Actually, you are that bold.” Shahrzad pushed back the tray of food and rested her elbows on the beveled ledge of the low table. “And this explains your odd behavior whenever you’re around him.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” Despina laughed again, the sound trilling ever higher, her eyes burning with a blue light.

Shahrzad grinned slowly. “I know I’m right.”

Despina glowered at her in sullen silence.

“You needn’t worry.” Shahrzad propped her chin on the heel of her palm. “Your secret is safe. You can trust me.”

“Trust you?” Despina sputtered. “I’d sooner trust a sieve.”

“That’s—rather unfair.”

“Is it? You don’t trust me.”

“Of course I don’t trust you. You’re a self-admitted spy, and I’ve nearly died twice on your watch.” Shahrzad stared at her pointedly.

Despina blinked. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“Dramatic? Need I remind you about the tea?”

“You still think that was me?”

“Then who was it?” Shahrzad demanded. “If you want me to trust you, tell me who was responsible.”

“It wasn’t the caliph, if that’s why you’re asking. He was . . . quite furious when he found out about it.”

“Was it the shahrban?”

Despina said nothing, but failed to conceal a cringe of affirmation.

“I’m not surprised,” Shahrzad continued. “I suspected as much.”

“Did you? Perhaps you should be the spy and I the calipha.”

“Perhaps. But I believe your pregnancy by another man may present a hindrance to that,” Shahrzad said in a droll tone. “Does Jalal know about the baby? If so, he should marry you. Or face my fury. The choice is his.”

“He doesn’t know. And I don’t intend to tell him.” Despina stood up and straightened the folds of her dress. “Because I don’t think he needs to know.”

“Well, that is simply ridiculous.”

Despina hooked a strand of golden brown hair behind an ear. “Maybe it is. But, for now, I choose to believe it is not.”

Shahrzad watched in pained silence while her handmaiden began cleaning up the mess as if nothing had occurred. As if a world of chaos had not been unleashed only moments before.

Like a canary in a gilded cage, Despina flitted about, stunning and resilient.

Trapped.

“You should rest,” Shahrzad directed.

Despina faltered, midstep. “What?”