The Wrath and the Dawn (The Wrath and the Dawn #1)(10)

Shahrzad inhaled with care. “I’m afraid that’s not possible, sayyidi.”

“Excuse me?”

“I have only just begun the tale.”

His eyes narrowed to ochre slits. “Finish the story, Shahrzad.”

“No.”

He unfolded to his feet in a ripple of grace. “So was this your plan all along?”

“What plan would that be, sayyidi?”

“A trick. A tactic to stay your execution . . . to begin a tale you had no intention of finishing.” His voice was deathly low.

“I have every intention of finishing it—tomorrow night. Whether or not that happens is entirely up to you.” She stared up at him, clenching her fists within her shamla.

“You said you understood; your life is forfeit. That was clear from the very beginning.”

Shahrzad rose to her full height. She pulled back her shoulders and lifted her elfin chin.

When she spoke, she matched the biting softness in his tone.

“All our lives are forfeit, sayyidi. It is just a question of when. And I would like one more day.”

He glared at her, the sharp cut of his profile even more menacing with the haze of anger coloring its surface.

A single knock struck the door of the chamber.

“Just one,” she whispered.

The tiger-eyes raked up and down her, gauging their adversary, weighing their options.

A heart-stopping minute passed.

I will not beg.

Another quiet knock at the door.

Shahrzad paced forward, her hazel orbs trained on the caliph.

He took a slow step back before striding to the doors.

No. Please. Stop!

As he reached for the handle, he paused without turning to look at her.

“One.” He pronounced the word like a soundless epithet before he stalked through the doors.

When they thudded shut behind him, Shahrzad sank to the floor and pressed her flaming cheek against the cool marble.

Even the release of tears involved too much effort.





DESPINA AND THE RAJPUT


THE TRAY SLAMMED ONTO THE TABLE WITH A CLATTER and a bang.

Shahrzad bolted upright, sleep caking the corners of her eyelids. She swiped at them with her hand. Traces of liquid gold and black powder dotted her palm when she was finished.

“You’re very small to have caused such a big fuss,” a musical voice intoned.

“What?” Shahrzad focused her bleary attention on its owner.

“I said, you’re very small to have caused such a big fuss.” A plump girl near her age strode to the foot of the bed and yanked aside the gossamer curtains. She had fair skin and thick honeywalnut hair, piled atop her crown in typical Grecian fashion. Her eyes were the sparkling blue of the Aegean and were lined in kohl with the practiced hand of an expert. Her lips were puckered into a perfect moue, stained pink with carmine and beeswax. The white linen garment clung to her rounded frame in all the right places. A thick silver band was looped around her upper left arm.

Shahrzad pushed aside her drowsiness and attempted to conjure a semblance of dignity. “I heard you the first time.”

“Then why did you ask me to repeat myself?”

“Because I don’t know who you are, and I have no idea why you’re banging around making ridiculous pronouncements first thing in the morning,” Shahrzad shot back.

The girl laughed. It was a loud and robust sound.

“I think I’m beginning to understand why there’s such a fuss. Also, it’s hardly first thing in the morning. It’s noon.” The girl marched to the screens and threw them open to reveal a midday sun sitting high in a clear cerulean sky.

Shahrzad cringed away from the harsh stream of light.

“I brought you some food. You should eat something. You’re so small,” the girl reiterated.

“I fail to understand why my size is of import.”

“Because a waif of a girl can’t manage a sustained fight, much less succeed in one. And I’d like to see you succeed.”

Instantly wary, Shahrzad pulled her knees against her chest and shuttered her expression. “Succeed?”

“By Zeus, you’re a strange thing. Yes, my lady, I’d like to see you succeed. Meaning, I’d like to see you live. I’m not fond of watching young girls die at the whim of our enigmatic ruler. Are you?”

Shahrzad studied her for a breath before placing her bare feet on the cold marble and rising from the bed.

Be careful.

“No. I’m not,” she replied.

The girl grinned. “You’re taller than I thought. Still too skinny, but not the worst I’ve seen. There’s a curve or two where there should be. I’m sure you’re stunning when you’re done up well.”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Shahrzad demanded.

“Despina. Your handmaiden . . . as long as you’re succeeding.”

“I don’t need a handmaiden.”

“I’m afraid that’s not your choice.” Despina’s grin widened, and her blue-fire eyes sparked at Shahrzad, daring her to rise to the challenge of such impertinence.

Shahrzad paused in consideration. “So he sent you here to spy on me?”

Despina’s white teeth flashed in her face. “Yes.”