Then the imbecile lifted his rusted scimitar from its sheath.
At that, Shahrzad nocked an arrow to the sinew and loosed it, all in one swift motion. It flew in a perfect spiral, despite the bow’s humble origins and the arrow’s mud-stained fletchings.
And it pierced clean through the imbecile’s wrist.
He howled in agony, dropping the scimitar to the ground with a resounding clang.
Before anyone had a chance to react, Shahrzad had fitted and nocked another arrow onto the string. As she pulled it tight, she felt something give in the sinew.
Oh, God.
Nevertheless, she stalked past Khalid, the arrow held in position against the side of her neck.
“This is where all of you were sorely mistaken. It was never seven to one. And I strongly suggest the seven of you take to your heels and return home. Because the next one who draws a weapon—the next one who takes a single step forward—will find an arrow through his eye. And I can assure you my friend is even less forgiving.”
At the sight of movement to her left, Shahrzad swiveled quickly, her grip on the bow tightening. Again, the sinew unraveled by her ear.
“Don’t test me. You mean nothing to me.”
Her knees shook, but her voice was as cool as a stone beneath the water.
“This is not worth it,” one of the gamblers muttered. He sheathed his weapon and left the alley. Soon, others took his lead, until the only ones remaining were the original troublemaker and his trio of miscreants.
“I believe you’ve had enough, sir.” Shahrzad’s fingers were still wrapped around the bow and arrow.
He grasped his arrow-skewered wrist as his friends exited the alley. His face was contorted with fury and the anguish of a man bested in all ways. Tears of pain trickled down his cheeks, and a glimmer of crimson stained his forearm.
Gritting his teeth against the sting, he snarled, “Have a care, grumpy. Before she ruins you, too.” He left, choking on his wounds.
Shahrzad did not lower the bow until the alley was completely clear.
When she turned around, Khalid was standing there with his shamshir at his side—
His expression devoid of emotion.
“That day in the courtyard,” he began. “You didn’t miss the target.”
Shahrzad took a deep breath. “No. I didn’t.”
He nodded.
Then he sheathed his sword.
Do it now. He’s unarmed. This is perfect. Even better than your original plan to ply him with wine and eventually poison him.
“Shazi.”
Do it. Get justice for Shiva—justice for all those girls who died as nothing, without cause or explanation.
“Yes?”
Loose the arrow.
He took a step toward her. His gaze swept down her body, searing wherever it touched.
End this. End this and go to Baba. To Irsa.
To Tariq.
Shahrzad tensed her grip on the weapon still nocked at her side. She inhaled, preparing to fire . . . and the frayed sinew came undone at one end.
Such a worthless coward.
“You are—remarkable. Every day, I think I am going to be surprised by how remarkable you are, but I am not. Because this is what it means to be you. It means knowing no bounds. Being limitless in all that you do.”
With each word, he broke past every barrier, every wall. And Shahrzad’s will fought him, screamed a silent scream, while her heart welcomed the intrusion as a songbird welcomes the dawn.
As the dying find grace in an answered prayer.
She closed her eyes, clenching the useless bow and arrow.
Shiva.
When she opened them again, he was standing before her.
“I didn’t like it when you called me your friend,” he said, a light in his amber eyes.
He raised both palms to either side of her face, angling her chin upward.
“Do you prefer ‘my king’ or ‘sayyidi’?” she choked in dry disgust.
He leaned forward, his brow almost brushing against hers.
“I prefer Khalid.”
Shahrzad swallowed.
“What are you doing to me, you plague of a girl?” he whispered.
“If I’m a plague, then you should keep your distance, unless you plan on being destroyed.” The weapons still in her grasp, she shoved against his chest.
“No.” His hands dropped to her waist. “Destroy me.”
The bow and arrow clattered to the ground as he brought his mouth to hers.
And there was no turning back.
She was drowning in sandalwood and sunlight. Time ceased to be more than a notion. Her lips were hers one moment. And then they were his. The taste of him on her tongue was like sun-warmed honey. Like cool water sliding down her parched throat. Like the promise of all her tomorrows in a single sigh. When she wound her fingers in his hair to draw her body against his, he stilled for breath, and she knew, as he knew, that they were lost. Lost forever.
In this kiss.
This kiss that would change everything.
MISBEGOTTEN OATHS
SHE WANTED TO LET GO OF HIS HAND. BUT SHE didn’t.
His touch burned her skin.
The shame. The betrayal.
The desire.
How could I waste such a perfect opportunity? Why did I hesitate?
She knew she was not to blame for the useless bow. Nonetheless, the self-recriminations could not be silenced.
The moment they stepped into the palace courtyard, Shahrzad tried to pull away.
Khalid merely tightened his grip.
A contingent of guards stood at the ready, prepared to receive the caliph upon his arrival. The Shahrban of Rey stared down at their interlaced fingers and turned his brown eyes to Shahrzad in pained accusation.