The Wrath and the Dawn (The Wrath and the Dawn #1)(13)

“Liar.” Despina smirked.

“Actually, I came here because I wanted to—” Shahrzad glanced around until her eyes fell on something she recognized well. “I wanted to learn how to use a bow and arrow.”

“What?” Despina exclaimed.

Feigning ignorance, Shahrzad moved toward the rack of weapons.

The Rajput raised his arm to block her path, a note of warning in his onyx gaze.

Shahrzad steeled herself before returning his belligerent stare. “Would you teach me how to shoot? I’ve always wanted to learn.”

He shook his head.

She affected a pout. “Nothing will happen to me. Anyway, I won’t be your concern after tomorrow. Please grant me this small request.”

“Maybe he’s not worried about you,” Despina stated caustically.

Shahrzad attempted to sidestep his mammoth forearm. When he thwarted her again, she pursed her lips.

“Must you be so difficult?” she said in harsh undertone.

“He’s not being difficult. That’s how he normally is,” a rich male voice remarked from behind them.

Both Despina and Shahrzad swiveled to meet the amused scrutiny of a young man with a curly mop of mahogany hair and a warm, affable expression.

The Rajput stiffened.

“Perhaps I can be of assistance?” the newcomer offered with a grin.

Shahrzad shot him a winsome smile. “I hope so. I’m—”

“I know who you are, my lady. By now, everyone in the palace knows who you are.” His brown eyes sparkled with mischief as he winked at Despina. She averted her gaze, her cheeks coloring.

He’s quite the flirt.

“Then you have a decided advantage over me, sir,” Shahrzad said.

“I’m Jalal.” He bowed his head, his fingertips brushing his brow.

“He’s captain of the guard and the son of General Aref al-Khoury . . . the Shahrban of Rey,” Despina clarified in a rote tone.

“Don’t let the title fool you, my lady. I’m no one of consequence, even if my father is the highest-ranking general in Khorasan.”

“Well, we share a portion of that lamentable status, for I am also no one of consequence,” Shahrzad said.

“I doubt that, my lady Shahrzad. I highly doubt that.” Jalal grinned, bringing further light to an already easygoing demeanor.

The Rajput grunted again. His lingering ire brought Shahrzad back to the matter at hand.

“Would you be willing to teach me how to use a bow and arrow, Captain al-Khoury?” she asked.

“That depends on a few things. The first being that you dispense with the formalities and just call me Jalal. The second being that Khalid never discover my part in this transgression.”

Khalid? He calls him by his first name?

“I can meet those terms. Gladly. If you’ll return the gesture, on both parts.”

Jalal leaned forward conspiratorially. “Then follow me, Jalal.”

Shahrzad laughed. Despina looped her arms over her ample chest. “This is a bad idea,” she cautioned, her blue eyes flitting to Jalal’s puckish face.

“For whom? For you, or for me?” Shahrzad retorted. “Because it seems like a very good idea for me to spend the last day of my life doing the things I’ve always wanted to do.”

Despina sighed with resignation and trudged behind Shahrzad and Jalal. The Rajput stomped in their shadows, his distaste as plain as his irritation, despite the sharp look of rebuke from the captain of the guard.

Jalal led Shahrzad to the rack of bows. Several quivers hung from a steel bar, their goose-feathered fletchings dyed in bright colors for easy recognition. Shahrzad pulled out an arrow from one of the quivers. Its tip was blunted for target practice. Taking special pains to appear nonchalant, she bent the back end of the arrow, ever so slightly, to determine the weight of its spine.

Not that flexible.

“You’ve shot a bow and arrow before?” Jalal inquired, observing her with a surprising amount of keenness for someone so seemingly blithe.

“Not really.” She attempted to sound dismissive.

“So can I ask what you’re doing with the arrow, then?”

“I’m merely curious.” She shrugged and put the arrow back in its quiver. Then she reached for another arrow with differentcolored fletchings. She performed the same test.

Much better.

She removed the quiver of arrows from the bar.

“It appears you might not need my tutelage, after all,” Jalal commented in an airy tone.

“No, no—” Her mind scrambled to conceal her misstep. “My . . . cousin once told me it’s easier to fire arrows with less spine when you don’t have a lot of upper body strength.”

“I see,” Jalal stated dubiously. “And what did your . . . cousin have to say about bows?”

“Nothing. The comment on arrows was merely in passing.”

His expression turned even more doubtful. “Of course. In passing.” He made a quick study of the different bows leaning within the weapons rack. When his hand paused on a tall, straightbacked bow, he glanced over his shoulder at Shahrzad.

She smiled at him.

Still watching her, he shifted his hand to a much smaller bow with ends that curved away from the archer when strung.

The recurve bow.