The Wrath and the Dawn (The Wrath and the Dawn #1)(8)

When she could stomach the quiet no longer, she lifted a slender brow at him. “Aren’t you going to eat, sayyidi?”

He inhaled through his nose, the corners of his eyes tightening in thought.

“The chutney is delicious,” she remarked in an offhand manner.

“Aren’t you scared, Shahrzad?” he asked, so quietly she almost missed it.

She put down the bread. “Do you want me to be scared, sayyidi?”

“No. I want you to be honest.”

Shahrzad smiled. “But how would you know if I were lying, sayyidi?”

“Because you are not a gifted liar. You only think yourself to be.” He leaned forward and took a handful of almonds from the tray.

Her smile widened. Dangerously. “And you are not that good at reading people. You only think yourself to be.”

He angled his head, a muscle ticking along his jaw. “What do you want?” Again, the words were so soft, Shahrzad strained to make them out.

She dusted the crumbs off her hands, biding time to construct the next trap.

“I’m to die at sunrise. Correct?”

He nodded once.

“And you wish to know why I volunteered for this?” she continued. “Well, I’d be willing to—”

“No. I won’t play games with you. I despise manipulation.”

Shahrzad snapped her lips shut, swallowing her nerve-riddled fury. “Perhaps you should spend less time despising the game and more time building the patience necessary to win.”

She held her breath as his upper body froze. The knuckles in his hands stretched white for a harrowing instant before he released his grip.

Shahrzad watched the tension leave him, a swirl of emotions colliding in her chest, wreaking havoc on her mind.

“Brave words for a girl with hours left to live.” His tone was edged in ice.

She sat up straight and twisted her fall of dark hair so that it hung over one shoulder. “Are you interested in the rules of the game or not, sayyidi?”

At his silence, she chose to barrel ahead, concealing her trembling hands in the folds of her shamla. “I’m willing to answer your question, sayyidi. But before I do so, I wonder if you would be willing to grant me a small request . . .” She trailed off.

A hint of callous amusement darkened his countenance. “Are you trying to barter for your life with trivia?”

She laughed, the sound dancing around the room with the airy quality of chimes. “My life is forfeit. You’ve made that clear. Perhaps we should move past that issue and get to the matter at hand.”

“By all means.”

She took a moment to steady herself. “I want to tell you a story.”

“Excuse me?” For the first time, she saw a distinct emotion ripple across his features.

Are you surprised? Rest assured, it won’t be the last time, Khalid Ibn al-Rashid.

“I tell you a story. You sit and listen. When I’m finished with the tale, I’ll answer your question.” She waited for his response.

“A story?”

“Yes. Do you agree to the terms, sayyidi?”

He leaned back on an elbow, with an unfathomable expression.

“Fine. I agree. You may begin.” He pronounced the words like a challenge.

And I accept it, you monster. Willingly.

“This is the tale of Agib, a poor sailor who lost everything he possessed only to gain the knowledge of self-discovery.”

“A tale of morality? So you are trying to teach me a lesson.”

“No, sayyidi. I am trying to entice you. I’ve been told a good storyteller can trap an audience with a single sentence.”

“Then you have failed.”

“Only because you are being unnecessarily difficult. And also because you did not let me finish. You see, Agib was a thief—the best thief in all of Baghdad. He could steal a solid gold dinar from your hand, right before your eyes, and pick the pocket of the wariest traveler with the stealth of a shadow.”

The caliph inclined his head in consideration.

“But he was arrogant. And, as his escapades grew ever more daring, so did his arrogance. Until one day, he was caught stealing from a wealthy emir and barely managed to escape with his life. In a panic, he tore through the streets of Baghdad, seeking refuge. Near the docks, he happened upon a small ship about to leave port. The captain was in dire need of a final crewmember. Certain the emir’s soldiers would find him if he remained in the city, Agib volunteered for the journey.”

“Better.” A trace of a smile graced the caliph’s lips.

“I’m glad you approve, sayyidi. May I continue?” She shot him a pointed grin, warring with the urge to splash the remainder of his drink in his face.

He nodded.

“The first few days on board the ship were difficult for Agib. He was not a seafaring man and had very little experience traveling in this manner; consequently, he was sick for long stretches of time. The other crewmembers mocked him openly and gave him the most menial tasks to accomplish, solidifying his status as all but useless. The respect Agib had amassed as the best thief in Baghdad was meaningless in this world; after all, he could not steal from his shipmates. There was no place to run and hide.”

“Truly a conundrum,” the caliph remarked.

Shahrzad ignored his quiet jab. “One week out to sea, there was a terrible storm. The ship was lashed about on immense waves that threw it far off course. Alas, this wasn’t the worst calamity to befall them: when the waters finally stilled two days later, the captain was nowhere to be found. The sea had swallowed him in its salty midst.”