The Wrath and the Dawn (The Wrath and the Dawn #1)(43)

I may not be able to kill him outright, but I must do what needs to be done.

I will learn why he killed all his brides.

And I will punish him for it.

? ? ?


He stood outside her doors.

Torn.

It was a familiar stance for him of late.

He despised it.

Khalid ignored the Rajput’s knowing grin as he began his trek toward his chamber. As usual, the bodyguard’s sense of humor was ill-timed and ill-bred.

Each step Khalid took echoed down the corridors of shadow and stone. The callous granite and blue-veined agate of his palace had provided little but a refuge for the screams of ghosts.

A haven for nightmares . . .

Until Shahrzad.

A true plague of a girl. And yet a queen in every sense of the word.

His queen.

He left the soldiers outside the antechamber leading into his private rooms.

General al-Khoury was waiting for him, sitting before an ebony table with two bronze lamps casting halos of gold and a silver pot of tea glistening atop a low-burning flame.

The shahrban rose to his feet as Khalid entered the antechamber. “Sayyidi.”

“Please sit.” Khalid took position on the cushions directly opposite. “I apologize for the hour, but I have an important matter to discuss with you. As such, I’ll dispense with the formalities.”

“Of course, sayyidi.”

“The standing order regarding the queen—was I not clear before I left last week?”

The shahrban’s harried features grew even more agitated. “Sayyidi—”

“There will be no further attempts on her life.”

“But, sayyidi—”

“No. No more underhanded schemes. No more poisoned sugar. Furthermore, I will treat any effort to subvert this order as a direct attempt on my own life. Do you understand, General?”

“Sayyidi!”

“I asked you a question, General al-Khoury.”

The shahrban bristled for an instant. “And I cannot answer it.”

“Uncle Aref!”

Khalid’s uncharacteristic outburst hung about the space, lingering with the tension of many unspoken things.

“She will be your undoing.”

“That is my decision.”

“And so you would undermine all that has been done? No matter how unconscionable our actions have been, we are nearly at an end now. Please. I implore you. Reconsider this. She is just one girl. What is she to you? We cannot trust her, Khalid-jan. Has she told you why she volunteered? Has she confessed her motivations? Who is this child? I beg of you. You cannot withstand this. Do not allow this brazen young girl to become a source of ruination.”

Khalid gazed across the table at his uncle. “I’ve made my decision.”

The shahrban’s face faltered. “Please. If you—do you love her? Tell me you do not love this child, Khalid-jan.”

“It is not about love.”

“Then why? You do not have to take part in the matter. Merely step aside. Cease all contact with her, as you did that night, and I will handle the sunrise.”

“No. I tried, Uncle Aref. That morning . . .” Khalid winced in remembrance.

The shahrban’s eyes narrowed. “Yet you do not love her?”

“You’re aware of my thoughts on the matter.”

“Then what do you want from this insolent young girl, Khalid-jan?”

“Something more.”

“And what if the rains cease again?”

Khalid paused. “I will do what is right for the people of Rey.”

The shahrban heaved a world-weary sigh. “You will not be able to withstand it. Even now, I can see the toll it is taking on you.”

“Again. My decision.”

“And your enemies will celebrate as it destroys you from within, as well as from without.”

Khalid leaned forward and braced his forehead on his palms. “Then I trust you will see to it they never find out.” He spoke to the floor, his faith in his uncle implicit.

The shahrban nodded before placing his hands on the marble and pushing to his feet. As he looked back at the exhausted figure of his king, the shahrban’s features saddened once more.

“Sayyidi? Please forgive this last question. But I must know—is she worth this risk?”

Khalid raised his head, his eyes reflecting a fiery orange in the flickering lamplight. “In truth? I don’t know . . .”

The shahrban’s shoulders sagged.

“But I do know I can’t remember the last time I wanted something so much,” he finished in a quiet voice.

It was the careful smile Khalid offered his uncle that finally convinced the shahrban—the first real smile he had seen on his nephew’s face in years.

“Khalid-jan. I will protect your queen. For as long as I can.”

“Thank you.”

“Sayyidi.” The shahrban started to bow.

“General al-Khoury?”

“Yes?”

“Please send in the faqir after you leave.”

“Yes, sayyidi.”

“And, if I could ask one last thing . . .”

“Of course.”

“Have you made any progress in determining the whereabouts of the queen’s family?”