The Wrath and the Dawn(65)

Jalal froze midstep. “That—jahkesh?” he swore. “Why?”

“It should be obvious.”

“To you. Would you care to elaborate?”

“Shahrzad.”

Jalal paused and then laughed with palpable scorn. “Of course. The Jahkesh of Parthia wants to meet Khorasan’s new calipha.”

“And he will undoubtedly bring Yasmine.”

“Marg-bahr Salim Ali el-Sharif.” Jalal drew his index finger across his throat as a warning to their impending guest. “What are you going to do?”

“Your father thinks I should send Shahrzad away while Salim is here.”

Jalal snorted.

“You disagree?” Khalid asked.

“Yes. Very much.”

Khalid stopped walking. “Why?”

Jalal swiveled to face him. “Because, if the jahkesh wants to see the future of Khorasan, I can think of nothing better than the sight of you with Shahrzad al-Khayzuran. The strength she instills in you. The utter rightness of it all.”

Khalid studied Jalal’s fiery expression. “You seem quite convinced.”

“I am. As you should be, sayyidi. Trust me. And trust in this.”

“In the rightness of it all?” A look of acerbic amusement settled across Khalid’s face.

“Yes. In her and in you.”

“Two rather unreliable people, Jalal.”

“I disagree. Shahrzad is a remarkably reliable girl. Brash and unpredictable, yes, but steadfast in her convictions. It’s true you are taxing and rather bleak, but you’ve always been reliably so.” Jalal grinned.

“So you would have me throw Shazi to the wolves?”

“Shazi?” Jalal’s grin widened. “Honestly, I pity the wolves.”

“Be serious for once.”

“I am. In fact, I would take the enterprise a step further. Invite all your bannermen to Rey—every last emir. Let them see that you are not your father. You are not the rumors that have been plaguing you of late. You are a king worthy of their allegiance . . . with a queen full of fire and promise.”

The edges of Khalid’s mouth turned upward, ever so slightly.

“My God. Are you smiling, Khalid-jan?” Jalal teased in an incredulous voice.

“Perhaps.”

The two young men continued making their way down the hallways until they passed into the main corridor, where they were joined by Khalid’s normal retinue of bodyguards. As they entered the open-air gallery, Khalid stopped short, his features darkening at the prospect before him.

Shahrzad was crossing toward the series of double doors leading to the gardens, with Despina at her side and the Rajput trailing behind her.

When she saw Khalid, she paused and pivoted on her slippered heel, gliding in his direction.

She captivated him in the way she always did, with unguarded beauty and unassuming grace. Her hair rippled behind her in shimmering waves of ebony, and her pointed chin was turned high and proud in the rays of sun streaming from above. The light gold of her mantle cloaked the deep emerald of the silk beneath it. Woven into the myriad colors of her eyes, Khalid saw the same mixture of reticence and defiance as always.

But now there was something else. A new emotion he could not place.

She wrinkled her nose at the Rajput’s looming presence, and the power behind this simple gesture pulled Khalid to her side, like sweet wine and the sound of bright laughter.

As she drew closer, the memory of last night washed over him.

The feel of her in his arms. The scent of lilac in her hair.

The futility of all else, save his lips against hers.

Of his will . . . crumbling.

“Tell me.”

“Anything.”

She opened her mouth to say something, a strangely uncertain look marring her lovely features . . .

And Khalid blew past her, without a glance in her direction.

Jalal followed him, wordlessly. Once they were out of earshot, he grabbed his cousin’s shoulder. “What are you doing?”

Khalid knocked his hand aside.

“Khalid!”

His gaze mutinous, Khalid continued striding down the corridor.

“Are you a fool?” Jalal persisted. “Did you not see her face? You wounded her!”

Khalid whirled around, seizing the front of Jalal’s qamis.

“I told you once, Captain al-Khoury: I will not discuss Shahrzad with you.”