The Wrath and the Dawn(62)

Nestled in its center was a sleeping hare of soft tan fur.

His first test.

Jahandar swallowed.

He did not want the creature to suffer. It seemed wholly unfair to take the life of such a helpless thing in such a gruesome manner.

But it could not be helped.

He had to do what was necessary. For his children. For himself.

He raised the dagger in his right hand and drew it across his left palm in a single, quick motion. A line of blood appeared in its wake. He dripped the crimson liquid onto the dark blade.

As soon as his blood coated the dagger’s edge, the metal began to glow a white-hot blue.

Jahandar’s eyes gleamed.

Now the cycle had to be completed.

He inhaled through his nose, silently beseeching the sleeping hare for forgiveness. Then he drew the luminous blade across its throat.

Jahandar watched the small creature’s bright blood spill onto the dagger, and the metal turned from a glowing blue to a fiery red.

The magic rose from the blade into the air, filling the chamber with an eerie rubicund light.

Finally, he touched the dagger to his palm.

Power flowed into the open wound, raw and frightening. It seared as it pummeled through his body, heating him to his very bones. His eyes flashed once, and the dark blade fell to the floor.

When his vision cleared, everything around him appeared sharper than before. The fatigue of only a moment ago was but a distant memory. He stood taller. Breathed deeper.

Felt invincible.

He bent to the floor and retrieved the dagger, wiping its surface on the bundle of linen next to the motionless body of the tiny hare.

Jahandar paused in thought.

Then he waved his hand over the bloody carcass.

And it disappeared in a burst of cool light.





A BRUTAL TRUTH


SHAHRZAD DID NOT SLEEP WELL THAT NIGHT.

Her dreams were filled with visions of Shiva’s smiling face and the sound of doors slamming shut in a black void. Voices filled with pain and betrayal echoed in her ears.

Once she pried open her eyes to the morning light, she rolled over and shoved her face into a cushion, feeling the bitter exhaustion settle between her shoulders.

Despina’s merry laughter lilted around her, clear as a bell and just as annoying.

Shahrzad groaned.

“Do you want to sleep more?”

“No,” Shahrzad said into her pillow. “That won’t help.”

“Are you sure? Because it looks as though you had a rather . . . unrestrained evening.”

“What?” Shahrzad lifted her head from the silk in confusion.

Despina’s highly amused gaze was fixed on the gossamer veil torn from its mooring, lying in a forgotten pile beside the platform.

A flush bloomed on Shahrzad’s cheeks.

“Well done,” Despina teased.

“It’s not what it looks like.”

“Are you quite certain? Because if the qamis on your bed belongs to another man, you have just become even more interesting than you already were.”

“That’s enough, Despina.” Shahrzad’s voice was filled with warning.

Despina stood akimbo, her perfect eyebrows high on her forehead. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“I’m sorry, but this situation and that response do not follow.” Collecting the folds of her skirt in one hand, Despina marched to the platform and plopped onto the edge of the bed. “What’s wrong? Tell me.”

Shahrzad sighed at her handmaiden’s cursed persistence. “Everything.”

“Can you be more specific? After all, secrets are infinitely more useful when they’re shared,” Despina said in a teasing tone.

“Tell that to Khalid,” Shahrzad grumbled. “As his supposed spy, he might actually listen to you.”

Despina’s expression softened in understanding. “The Caliph of Khorasan hasn’t listened to anyone for a very long time.”

“Nor will he be likely to. Not after last night.”

Despina kicked off her sandals and sat cross-legged on the bed. “We women are a sad lot, aren’t we?”

“What do you mean?”

“Strong enough to take on the world with our bare hands, yet we permit ridiculous boys to make fools of us.”

“I am not a fool.”

“No, you’re not. Not yet.” Despina grinned. “But it’s inevitable. When you meet the one who makes you smile as you’ve never smiled before, cry as you’ve never cried before . . . there is nothing to do but fall.”