The Wrath and the Dawn(78)
Yasmine smiled with an almost mincing kind of sympathy. “That depends. How willing are you to assist your enemy, Shahrzad?”
“Alas, your great failure of the evening is that I do not see an enemy, Princess of Parthia.” Shahrzad inclined her head in a brisk bow. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“What do you see, then?” Yasmine stepped into Shahrzad’s path, her dark eyes sparkling with amusement.
“I see a beautiful manipulator. A weaver of words.”
Yasmine nodded, her half smile swooping in a lazy arc. “It must be like looking in a mirror.”
She’s quick. And fearless.
“How very fortunate.” Shahrzad grinned back. “We should all be so lucky as to share a reflection with you.”
Yasmine laughed, and for the first time, it sounded genuine. “What a shame, Shahrzad al-Khayzuran. A part of me thinks I could like you, were we to meet under a different sky, at a different time.”
“I’m surprisingly inclined to agree, Yasmine el-Sharif.” Shahrzad bowed deep, her fingertips brushing her forehead in a flourishing gesture. Then she turned on her heel to round the column . . .
And ran smack into the broad chest of a man.
She stumbled and almost fell to the floor, but a steadying hand reached for hers, saving her from certain humiliation. When Shahrzad faced her erstwhile rescuer, a pair of familiar silver-and-ash eyes stared down at her, shining with a fierce light.
Unmatched in their love.
Tariq. No. You can’t . . .
She tried to withdraw her hand, but he pressed something in her grasp.
A scrap of parchment.
Shahrzad wrapped her palm around it and pulled away.
“Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome, my lady.” He smiled politely.
Concerned that others might see this strange interaction, Shahrzad stepped back and smoothed the fabric of her mantle, tucking the scrap of parchment beneath her thumb.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” she said casually, though her heart tripped in her chest with worry.
He shook his head, taking her lead. “I am Tariq Imran al-Ziyad of Taleqan, my lady.” Tariq bowed, touching his hand to his brow.
The Rajput emerged from the shadows behind Tariq, scowling all the while at the young nobleman’s impressive height.
“Is this your first visit to Rey?” she continued, determined to appear at ease.
“No, my lady. I used to have relatives in the city.”
“Used to?”
Tariq grinned with ready charm, though his eyes continued to betray their depth of feeling. “Yes. But I hope to change that soon.” He lowered his voice. “When I marry.”
The sentiment behind his words was clear. She felt the warmth in his gaze, and for a moment, Shahrzad allowed herself to really look at him. To look up into the perfect face of the brash boy she fell in love with, and remember . . .
The scrawny girl whose eyes followed his every move.
And the tall boy who followed her with all of his senses.
“Shahrzad.”
At the sound of Khalid’s voice, Tariq took a protective step toward her. Shahrzad’s hazel eyes sparked in warning as she warded off a sharp current of fear.
Khalid will see everything. Because Tariq . . . can’t hide anything.
Khalid strode to her without so much as a glance at Tariq.
“Shahrzad,” he repeated.
“Yes?”
“I’ve been looking for you,” he said in an even tone.
Shahrzad twisted his way, not even bothering to hide her anger. “A thousand apologies, sayyidi. I was talking to Yasmine and lost track of what truly matters.” Her words were a carefully aimed strike.
Khalid took the blow without flinching, his amber eyes cool.
“I see.”
Do you?
Shahrzad held his gaze, her mind a muddle of thoughts and emotions.
Now was not the time or the place to share them.
After all, Khalid had his secrets.
He did not deserve to know hers.
Baba and Irsa.
Tariq.
She had to keep those she loved safe. Safe from this boy with a cruel past and an untenable future.
Safe from the sway he held over her heart.
“Have you met Tariq Imran al-Ziyad, sayyidi?” she asked Khalid, determined to have control over the situation.
Khalid blinked once. Finally, he turned to acknowledge Tariq’s presence.