The Wrath and the Dawn(94)

Shahrzad narrowed her eyes. “You should know I will not take kindly to you treating me like a possession.”

“I have never treated you like a possession, Shahrzad.”

“Until you spoke of sending me away.”

Khalid shifted his hands to her sides. “You’re my wife. They are hurting you because of me.”

“They? Do you mean the Fida’is?” She hesitated. “Who are they? To whom do they pledge loyalty?”

“To whoever can pay their price. Loyalty ebbs and flows with the tide; gold does not. The men who hire them have little to offer beyond that.”

“And you think it will help if you yield to such men?”

“I don’t care what they think as long as you’re safe.”

“You should care. It’s time to start caring. You cannot continue to rule this kingdom in such a callous manner.”

He smiled, bitter and unamused. “You speak as though you understand. As though you know.”

“You’re right. I understand nothing. I know nothing. And whose fault is that?” Shahrzad pushed against his bare chest and stood from the bed, walking past him.

“I’ve told you why.” Khalid rose to his feet. “It is not safe for you to know these things. To know—”

“To know what?” She spun around to face him. “To know you? As if I could ever hope to achieve such a thing. Yet, like a fool, I’ve wanted to learn. To understand what pains you, what brings you joy. But I remain ignorant of even the most trivial of things. I don’t know your favorite color. What foods you detest. What scent brings to mind a treasured memory. I know nothing, because you fight me every step of the way.”

He watched her as she spoke, his features careful, his composure deliberate, though his eyes revealed a deeper conflict he no longer fought to conceal.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Shahrzad. I only know I can’t give it. Not now.”

“It does not have to be so difficult, Khalid-jan. My favorite color is violet. The scent of roses makes me feel at home, wherever I am. I do not enjoy fish, but will eat it to make a loved one happy, suffering through my smiles.”

He remained stone-faced, the conflict in his eyes warring on.

With a beleaguered sigh, she turned and strode to the entrance. “Good night.”

Khalid was beside her in a few long strides, pressing his hand to the ebony door. Preventing her from leaving.

“What do you want me to do?” he said in a low voice.

She did not look up, though her heart thrummed in her throat. “Prove that a real man doesn’t make a show of what’s his. It just is.”

“Is it? Are you mine?” Khalid asked with quiet solemnity.

Her conviction wavered further. “I told you; don’t try to own me.”

“I don’t want to own you.”

She swiveled her neck to meet his gaze. “Then never speak of sending me away again. I am not yours to do with as you will.”

Khalid’s features smoothed knowingly. “How right you are. You are not mine.” He dropped his palm from the door. “I am yours.”

Shahrzad curled her fingers tight, forcing herself to recall a time when she meant nothing to him. A time when he meant less than nothing to her, and all that mattered was blood for blood.

Alas, she no longer saw the same boy before her. Just light amidst a sea of darkness, and the unerring promise of something more. But she never saw the things she should see. The pain, the anger, the betrayal. These things always faded, and she despised herself for it.

Before she could stop her hands, they reached for him, as though they existed for no other reason than to touch him. Her fingers brushed across his jaw with a feather’s caress before pulling away, and he closed his eyes on a soft inhale. Like the poison toying with its remedy, Shahrzad’s hands ignored her and took control, a mere taste of his skin not nearly enough. Never enough. They began at his brow and eased their way to his temples before sliding into his hair, smooth as silk, dark as night. She watched his eyes open and turn from liquid to fire under her fingers. Shahrzad ran her palms down to his neck, where she paused.

“Why won’t you touch me?” she whispered.

It took him a moment to reply. “Because if I start, I won’t stop.”

“Who asked you to stop?” Her fingers traveled to his chest.

“What if I can’t give you the answers you want?”