A polite cheer rose from the edges of the courtyard.
“Again, I welcome you to my home. I have the fervent hope that when you leave it, you will have come to care for it as much as I do. It is the city of my childhood.” The monster paused. “And the city of my queen.”
At this, the chorus of approval grew, mingled with a clear tenor of curiosity. The arrogant boy to the monster’s right smirked appreciatively, while the shahrban sighed with seeming resignation.
It took all Tariq’s willpower to look away and not draw undue attention. The hate was too palpable. It roiled off him in murderous waves.
Death was too easy for this monster.
He dared to flaunt Shahrzad, as if she were a prize he had won?
Zoraya flapped her wings from her perch on his mankalah, aware of his fury. Tariq raised a hand to soothe her while he observed the monster exiting the courtyard, his gold-clad retinue clamoring in his shadow.
Tariq was not impressed by the show.
Rahim was a far better rider. The Caliph of Khorasan was an above-average horseman, at best. For all his dour black and stern expressions, all the whispered rumors of trick swords and cold brutality, he did not appear worthy of genuine fear. He appeared bored with life. Bored and in need of a nap.
Tariq sneered to himself, his loathing mingled with a newfound distaste.
Monster? Hardly. Merely a boy-king.
And a dead one, at that.
TWO CROSSED SWORDS
ANOTHER MOMENT OF THIS, AND SHAHRZAD would scream.
Sitting here, idling about in her room, while somewhere in the palace, a reckless boy with a falcon and a quick-tempered king with two swords—
“Hold still!” Despina commanded. She clutched Shahrzad’s chin in her left hand. Then she lifted the tiny, three-haired brush to Shahrzad’s eyelid once more.
Shahrzad gritted her teeth.
“You are an utter nightmare,” Despina grumbled. When she was finished, she pulled back and nodded with satisfaction at her work.
“Can I leave now?” Shahrzad blew a lock of glossy black hair out of her face.
“Such a brat. Would you at least do me the courtesy of feigning a dram of appreciation for all my efforts?” Despina grabbed Shahrzad’s wrist and hauled her before the mirror in the far corner of the chamber.
“Despina, I’m going to be late for—”
“Just have a look, Shahrzad al-Khayzuran.”
When Shahrzad glanced into the polished silver, her hazel eyes nearly doubled in size.
Nothing about her appearance seemed normal.
Despina had turned tradition on itself. She had dressed Shahrzad in sirwal trowsers of luminous black silk with a matching fitted top, and chosen to eschew the typical mantle of muted gold or silver. Tonight, Shahrzad’s sleeveless mantle was the same cerulean blue as Despina’s eyes. It matched the glittering sapphires swinging from her earlobes. Instead of placing a band of stones across Shahrzad’s brow, Despina had woven tiny strands of obsidian beads throughout her hair. They caught at wayward beams of light, making each curl flash like shadow incarnate.
For the final touch, Despina had painted a thick line of black kohl above the top portion of Shahrzad’s eyelashes. She had flicked the lines far past each outer corner, giving the illusion of cat’s eyes.
The entire effect was . . . arresting, to say the least.
“No—necklace?” Shahrzad stuttered.
“No. You don’t like them. Or you do a good job of pretending you don’t.”
“My arms are bare.”
“Yes.”
Shahrzad ran her fingers across the shining blue fabric of her mantle. Black diamond bangles clinked together on her left wrist.
“Tonight is a night to turn heads. Make them remember you. Make sure they never forget. You are the Calipha of Khorasan, and you have the ear of a king.” Despina put her hand on Shahrzad’s shoulder and grinned at their shared reflection. “More important, you have his heart.” She bent forward and lowered her voice. “And, most important, you are a fearsome thing to behold in your own right.”
Shahrzad smiled, but it came from a place of unexpected despondency.
For once, you’re wrong about several things.
She reached up and clasped Despina’s hand. “Thank you. I’m sorry I was so distracted on the balcony earlier. I didn’t realize the . . . importance of the gathering until that moment. It’s not an excuse for being so wretched all afternoon, but—”
Despina laughed, and it was a balm to Shahrzad’s nerves. “I’m used to it. Just handle yourself with aplomb tonight, and all is forgiven.”
Shahrzad nodded and walked to the door of her chamber. The Rajput was waiting beyond the threshold to escort her through the vaulted marble corridors. When he looked down at her, his moonless eyes constricted for an instant, and she thought she saw something resembling amity in their depths. Then he directed her down the labyrinthine hallways.
As they rounded the final corner, Shahrzad paused midstep.
Khalid stood before a set of massive, gilt-framed double doors three times his height. They were guarded on either side by creatures carved from stone, with the body of a bull, the wings of an eagle, and the head of a man.
He turned when he heard their footsteps, and Shahrzad’s breath was gone before she could catch it.
The linen of his off-white qamis was so finely spun that it reflected a faint sheen from the torches lining the corridor. Their fires gave life to the carved hollows of his features. The hilt of his sword was looped through the crimson tikka sash wound across his hips. His mantle was a rich brown that enhanced the amber of his eyes, making them appear even more intense, even more fluid. Even more illusory.