“Perhaps you’re right. I could see her daring a cobra to strike, swearing her venom would kill first.”
Tariq smiled. “And she would win.”
“Of that, there is no doubt. In fact, I’m almost certain she terrorized the mighty Caliph of Khorasan until he was nothing but a mewling kitten, cowering in the corner. Who knows—we might be deposing her one day.”
Tariq sombered immediately at the mention of their king. “No. He is not a man to rescind any kind of power with ease.”
“And how would you know this?”
“I just know it,” Tariq snapped. “He murdered my cousin. And now he has Shahrzad. This is a man with nothing but evil in his blood. The only thing to consider when it comes to Khalid Ibn al-Rashid is how many times I wish he could die at my hands. And how unfortunate it is that the answer is only once.”
“I despise him, too. With the fire of a thousand suns, I despise him. But it is always a good idea to know your enemy, Tariq.”
“Don’t mistake my vehemence for foolishness. I intend to learn everything I can about him. But that will never happen locked in the walls of my family’s fortress. With that in mind, I’m going into the desert to seek out the Badawi.” Tariq’s face was set with determination. “Alone.”
“Alone?”
“Yes. Alone. I need you to go to Taleqan in case my uncle sends word. I’ll dispatch Zoraya every two days with my location.”
“You’d leave me with your parents?”
“You could always go home.”
“To my brothers and their screaming children?” Rahim scoffed. “To the constant attempts to marry me off to a cousin’s friend’s ugly sister? I think not. Besides, I owe you this much for all these years of friendship. And I owe Shazi even more.”
Tariq laughed softly. “I thank you, Rahim-jan. As I always should, yet seldom do.”
“You’re welcome, you selfish bastard. In any case, I can look forward to one good thing coming from all this secret plotting.”
“And that would be?”
“A full night of sleep . . . without being shot at for it.”
• • •
The first morning Shahrzad awoke in the palace without fearing the dawn was a strange one.
Her heart clenched reflexively at the light, and then relaxed when she heard the sound of Despina bustling about the room. She breathed deeply and settled back into the pillows, allowing her body to bask in this newfound ease.
“Maybe he should just stay in Amardha,” Shahrzad mumbled to no one.
“I was about to wake you up,” Despina replied. “Your food is getting cold.”
Shahrzad paused. Then made a decision.
Honey catches more flies than vinegar.
“Thank you for using your better judgment. And not resorting to your usual churlishness,” Shahrzad teased.
“Churlishness? You’re not exactly pleasant in the morning.”
Shahrzad grinned before rising to her feet. She pushed aside the thin silk surrounding the bed and strode to the table, where her customary tray of food sat waiting. When she glanced over at Despina, she was surprised to see her handmaiden’s face was not as glowing and perfect as usual. Her skin was wan, and her forehead appeared strained.
“What’s wrong?” Shahrzad asked.
Despina shook her head. “I’m fine. Just a bit piqued.”
“Piqued? You look ill.”
“No. I’ll be fine.”
“Do you need to rest?”
“I’m fine, Shahrzad. Truly.” Despina raised the lid from the tureen of soup and dropped a crystal of rock sugar into the bottom of a small etched-glass cup. Then she lifted the ornate silver pot from its resting place above a low-burning candle. As she raised it high above the glass cup and began to pour, her hand trembled, and the stream of tea splashed back from inside the cup before hitting the teapot.
“I’m sorry,” Despina mumbled.
“You’re permitted to make mistakes, on occasion.” Shahrzad smiled impishly.
“All evidence to the contrary,” she shot back under her breath.
“When did I ever make such outrageous demands?”
The lines on Despina’s brow deepened.
“Despina. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing!”
She’s lying. Again.
Shahrzad cut her eyes and tore a piece of lavash in half.
“I’m sorry.” Despina finished pouring the tea. “What were you saying about Amardha?”
“I was just commenting on the caliph’s recent journey. Do you know why he went there?”
“He’s most likely visiting the Sultan of Parthia—his uncle.”
“I see. Does he visit him often?” Shahrzad began eating her soup.
Despina shook her head. “No. They are not exactly . . . friendly. The sultan is not his uncle by blood. He’s the brother of the former caliph’s first wife. And he despised our caliph’s mother.”
Interesting.
“Why?”
Despina shrugged. “I suppose it’s for the logical reason any man would hate his dead sister’s replacement. In addition, our caliph’s mother was beautiful, smart, and vivacious. By all accounts, the first wife was . . . not.”
“Then why would the caliph visit the sultan?”
“I’m not sure. I suppose it’s for diplomatic reasons. You should ask him when he returns.”