The Wrath and the Dawn(63)
“I—” Shahrzad chewed on her lower lip.
“You can speak freely, Shahrzad. What you say will not pass these walls.”
Shahrzad remained silent.
Despina edged closer. “When I was a little girl in Thebes, I remember asking my mother what heaven was. She replied, ‘A heart where love dwells.’ Of course, I then demanded to know what constituted hell. She looked me straight in the eye and said, ‘A heart absent love.’” Despina studied Shahrzad as she spoke.
Shahrzad returned Despina’s scrutiny while toying with the silver laces of her shamla. “Your mother sounds quite wise.”
“She was.”
Shahrzad chose her next words with care. “May I ask what happened to her?”
“She fell in love with the wrong man. He promised her the world and then left her with nothing but the child in her belly.”
“I’m truly sorry, Despina.”
“I’m not. She died young, but she died happy, and a man like that is incapable of making a woman happy. Rich men don’t know how to sacrifice for love, because they’ve never had to.” Despina’s last statement was marked in its harshness.
“Is that it?” Shahrzad said gently. “Are you worried Jalal will do the same?”
“I don’t know. He’s unfailingly loyal to his family, but I have yet to see him espouse such loyalty to the many young women who’ve lost their hearts to him.” Despina’s blue eyes tightened at the corners. “I’ve always believed a man is what he does, not what others say. But Jalal al-Khoury does very little to refute what others say.”
“Such behavior appears to be a family trait.”
“Yes. It does.”
“I don’t—” Shahrzad caught herself before turning a pleading eye to her handmaiden. “Do you know, Despina? If you do, please tell me. Why is Khalid killing all of his brides?”
Despina stared down at the discarded skein of spider-silk by the bed. “I don’t know.”
“Then what do you know? Please tell me.”
“I’ve lived in this palace for six years, and I’ve always found Khalid Ibn al-Rashid quite aloof, yet strangely honorable. Until the events of these past few months, he has never given me occasion to question his character.”
“But how can you continue to serve a king who kills young women without explanation?”
“I came to this kingdom as a slave; I don’t have the luxury of choosing whom I serve,” Despina retorted drily. “The Caliph of Khorasan may very well be a monster, but to me he’s always been a troubled king with good intentions.”
“Good intentions?” Shahrzad spat. “Tell that to the families of the girls he murdered. Tell that to those who loved them.”
Despina flinched, and Shahrzad looked away, rising from the bed in a rush to conceal her pain.
“Shahrzad—”
“Leave me alone.”
Despina grabbed her wrist. “If you care about him at—”
“I don’t.”
“Stop lying, you miserable brat.”
Shahrzad wrenched her arm free, glaring at Despina before turning to leave in a swirl of lustrous brocade.
“You care about him,” Despina insisted. “And since secrets matter so much to you, I’ll divulge one.”
Shahrzad halted in her tracks.
“You are safe, Shahrzad al-Khayzuran. Nothing will happen to you. For I have it on high authority that any attempt to harm you will be treated as a direct attempt on the life of our king.”
Shahrzad’s stomach clenched.
“Do you understand, Brat Calipha?” Despina continued.
Shahrzad glanced over her shoulder at her handmaiden, in stalwart silence.
Despina sighed. “On pain of death . . . you are as important to him as his own life.”
LILACS AND
A RAGING SANDSTORM
JALAL SLID THE REPORT ACROSS THE TABLE AND drummed his fingers against the edge of the stained wood.
“Do you have someplace you need to be, Captain al-Khoury?” Khalid did not look up from his work.
“No. Not at the moment.”
Jalal continued tapping his right hand on the carved mahogany? staring intently at Khalid’s face.
“It appears—”
“I wish you would confide in me, Khalid.”