Shahrzad could not help but smile.
“Additionally, I assume the visit may satisfy some . . . lingering curiosities.” Jalal grinned knowingly.
“Why, Captain al-Khoury, you make it sound so . . . intriguing.”
He laughed. “So are you coming, Shahrzad?”
She nodded, her hazel eyes sparkling.
“I have to warn you, he’s a bit—odd,” Jalal stated as he began retracing his steps, with Shahrzad and her tiny retinue in tow.
“How so?”
“He’s a relic of days past. Very devoted to the ancient arts. But I think you’ll like him, and I know he’ll be very pleased to meet you.”
“What’s his name?”
“Musa Zaragoza.”
“That’s a very unusual name,” Shahrzad said.
“He’s Moorish.”
“Ah, I see. Well, I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will.”
They continued up the numerous flights of stairs and into the cool marble hallways. Jalal led them to a large room with a domed ceiling five times the height of a man. Its walls were tiled and covered with painstakingly carved reliefs, depicting battle scenes long forgotten of warriors brandishing their weapons and vanquishing their foes.
In the corner stood a very tall man draped in garments of vibrant fabric. His deep blue rida’ fell to the floor, and its hood was wound about his head, secured by a circlet of leather and gold. Thick mankalah cuffs were wrapped around both wrists, and his beautiful dark skin reminded Shahrzad of the finest Medjool date.
When he turned to face her, he smiled so widely his teeth seemed to glow white, like pearls set against ebony.
Jalal and Despina left her at the door, and the Rajput stood inside nearby, his sword at the ready.
Shahrzad returned her guest’s smile and walked toward him.
What do I say?
“Welcome!” she began. “I am—Shahrzad.”
He glided to her in a swirl of colors, his hands outstretched.
“And I am Musa. What a privilege to meet you.” It was an intense voice, like honey and smoke.
Shahrzad took his hands. Standing so close to him, she realized he was actually a great deal older than he appeared. His eyebrows were peppered with white, and the fine lines etched about his face indicated a propensity for deep thought and a predilection for amusement. As he grasped her hands, Shahrzad saw something register in his rich brown eyes, but it came and went in a flash.
“Thank you so much, Musa-effendi. I am so sorry my—the caliph is not here to greet you.”
He shook his head. “It is my fault for coming here unannounced. I was hoping to see him as I was passing through, but, alas, it appears I must save our reunion for another journey.”
“Please sit.” Shahrzad gestured toward the cushions surrounding the low table to her right, and they took their places across from each other. “Would you care for something to eat?”
“No, no. I cannot stay. Again, this was not meant to be anything but a short visit. I do not wish to impose on anyone.”
“It is not an imposition, in any way. I would not have such an esteemed guest leave the palace hungry.” Shahrzad grinned.
He laughed. The sound seemed to leap from wall to wall.
“And how do you know I am esteemed? Were you not told the truth?” His mouth twitched with humor.
“And what is the truth, Musa-effendi?”
“That the last time I was in this palace, I was thrown out on my heels, with nothing but the clothes on my back.”
Shahrzad controlled her expression. She took a deep breath and folded her hands in her lap. “Well, it seems we owe you at least a meal, then, sir.”
His laughter burst from his mouth once more, even bolder than before.
“Thank the stars for you, my lovely child. What light you must bring to my poor Khalid.”
Light may not be the appropriate word.
She offered him a small smile in response.
“As I feared, this is not a harmonious marriage,” Musa said gently. “Is there any hope for one?”
“In truth, it is too soon to tell. We have only been married a few days. And marriage to the caliph is—somewhat difficult.”
“So I’ve heard.” His voice was knowing and sad. “And do you wish for a harmonious marriage with him?”
Shahrzad shifted uncomfortably in her seat. For some reason, lying to this strangely garbed man with the rich laugh and the probing eyes seemed . . . wrong.
“I long for a marriage based on love and mutual respect, Musa-effendi. Whether it is possible with the caliph remains to be seen.”
“Ah, so honest. Khalid values such honesty above all else. He craves it. Even as a small child, he sought the truth with a kind of fervor I’ve rarely encountered in any individual. Do you know this about him?”
“I know very little about his past.”
He nodded. “Tell me, beyond the rumors, what kind of man has Leila’s son become?”
Shahrzad paused and studied the kind face of the stranger across from her.
If I answer his questions, will he answer mine?
“A quiet one. A smart one.”
“These things I could find out on the streets of Rey. I want to know the things you know. The things a clever young girl has deduced, even in such a short time.”
Shahrzad chewed on her lower lip for a moment.
“A joyless one. A calculating one. A bitter one . . .” she whispered.
She thought of his raw fist and the punishing fury.