The Wrath and the Dawn(73)

Shahrzad smiled, but it came from a place of unexpected despondency.

For once, you’re wrong about several things.

She reached up and clasped Despina’s hand. “Thank you. I’m sorry I was so distracted on the balcony earlier. I didn’t realize the . . . importance of the gathering until that moment. It’s not an excuse for being so wretched all afternoon, but—”

Despina laughed, and it was a balm to Shahrzad’s nerves. “I’m used to it. Just handle yourself with aplomb tonight, and all is forgiven.”

Shahrzad nodded and walked to the door of her chamber. The Rajput was waiting beyond the threshold to escort her through the vaulted marble corridors. When he looked down at her, his moonless eyes constricted for an instant, and she thought she saw something resembling amity in their depths. Then he directed her down the labyrinthine hallways.

As they rounded the final corner, Shahrzad paused midstep.

Khalid stood before a set of massive, gilt-framed double doors three times his height. They were guarded on either side by creatures carved from stone, with the body of a bull, the wings of an eagle, and the head of a man.

He turned when he heard their footsteps, and Shahrzad’s breath was gone before she could catch it.

The linen of his off-white qamis was so finely spun that it reflected a faint sheen from the torches lining the corridor. Their fires gave life to the carved hollows of his features. The hilt of his sword was looped through the crimson tikka sash wound across his hips. His mantle was a rich brown that enhanced the amber of his eyes, making them appear even more intense, even more fluid. Even more illusory.

And these eyes were hers. From the moment he turned and saw her.

Shahrzad slowed her pace as she neared him, her fear fading into a strange sort of calm.

She attempted a smile.

He reached out his hand.

When she took it, she noticed a thick band of muted gold on the third finger of his right hand. Embossed on its surface were two crossed swords. Shahrzad ran her thumb over it.

“It’s my standard,” Khalid explained. “They’re—”

“Twin shamshirs.”

“Yes.”

She looked up, worried he would wonder how she knew.

But he was unfazed.

“The general told you I saw the tournament?” she asked flatly.

“Of course.” A corner of his lips twitched.

Shahrzad exhaled in a huff. “Of course.”

He laced his fingers through hers. “You look beautiful.”

“So do you.”

“Are you ready?”

“Are you?”

At this, Khalid smiled. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.

“Thank you, Shazi. For standing at my side.”

She nodded, words failing her.

Then Khalid strode forward and the Rajput pushed open one of the huge doors. The warmth of Khalid’s hand led Shahrzad onto the upper landing of an immense two-way staircase shaped like open arms. For an instant, she hesitated, thinking they were supposed to go their separate ways, but Khalid grasped her palm tight and started down the stairs with Shahrzad beside him. Over her shoulder, she caught a glimpse of blue damask trailing behind her like gently rolling waves across a sea of hewn marble.

When they paused at the base of the staircase, Shahrzad gasped in wonder for the second time that evening.

The royal audience hall of the palace at Rey was undoubtedly the largest room she had ever seen in her life. The floor was immense, alternating stones of black and white, patterned diagonally as far as the eye could see. Beautiful reliefs depicting human bulls charging into battle and winged women with long tresses flowing in the wind adorned the walls, which stretched high into the air. So high that Shahrzad had to lengthen her neck to see the very tops of the carved columns bearing the ponderous weight of the ceiling. Fashioned near the base of each of these columns were two-headed lions with iron torches protruding from their roaring mouths.

In the center of this vast space was a three-sided, raised dais with a series of low tables situated upon its surface. Sumptuous fabric and richly appointed cushions littered the dais with vibrant color and lush texture. Fresh rose petals and dried jessamine were strewn across the silk and fringed damask, perfuming the air with a sweetly intoxicating scent that beckoned to anyone who wandered by.

Their guests were milling about, awaiting their arrival.

Tariq.

The fear returned in a rush.

She could sense Khalid watching her. He squeezed her hand, offering his gentle reassurance in one simple gesture.