Furious?
Shahrzad shook her head and smiled at the chattering nobleman before her, struggling to clear her mind so she could focus on their conversation.
Yasmine el-Sharif. The daughter of that hateful man.
As soon as Shahrzad had learned the beautiful girl’s identity—from Jalal, no less—she had smiled patiently through their formal introduction. Through the painfully obvious, lifelong connection between Khalid and the otherworldly Princess of Parthia. Then Shahrzad had risen from the table, stone-faced, to begin greeting all the noblemen in attendance.
Without Khalid.
She had been determined to carry on for a time without the Caliph of Khorasan at her side.
Without the so-called King of Kings and his many, many secrets.
And she had. But now she was . . . foundering.
He should have told me about Yasmine. I looked like a fool.
“Hello, Shahrzad. May I call you that?”
“What?” Shahrzad said, shaken from her trance.
Yasmine smiled, and it was so perfect that Shahrzad wanted to smear soot on her teeth.
“Of course,” Shahrzad responded, cursing her internal pettiness.
The nobleman whose name she had already forgotten beamed at Yasmine, his eyes nearly bulging from their sockets.
“Would you mind if I borrowed the calipha for a moment?” Yasmine fluttered her eyelashes at him with a skill Shahrzad could never hope to espouse.
He nodded vigorously, spittle flying from his lips in place of an actual response.
Yasmine took Shahrzad’s hand, pulling her into the shadows behind an immense stone column.
“You looked like you needed to be saved.”
“Thank you.” Shahrzad hid her suspicion under a warm smile.
Yasmine studied Shahrzad in the torchlight emanating from the roaring lion nearby.
“You are frustratingly pretty,” she pronounced.
“What?” The comment drew Shahrzad’s brows together.
“I wasn’t expecting you to be so beautiful.”
Shahrzad held firm to her smile. “Well, I wasn’t expecting you at all.”
Yasmine laughed airily, leaning against the polished marble with her hands behind her back. “You’re honest. It makes sense now. He adores honesty.”
“Forgive me, but I’m a bit dense. You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“It makes sense why he chose you.” Yasmine’s long-lashed eyes were trained on Shahrzad.
Is she trying to be funny?
“I’m quite certain you know he didn’t choose me.”
“You’re wrong. He did choose you. And he does not make such decisions lightly.” Yasmine pushed off the pillar and took a step toward Shahrzad. “Especially when he could have chosen a girl who wants nothing more than to love him.”
Shahrzad’s baser instincts drove her to strike back at Yasmine for the slight, but she refused to argue with the beautiful girl over a mercurial boy.
Especially a boy who kept his secrets closer than he kept his confidences.
“While I do appreciate you saving me from a rather tedious conversation, I think it’s time for me to rejoin my guests.” Shahrzad started to turn away.
“Do you love him?”
The question stopped Shahrzad in her tracks. “I believe that’s none of your business.”
“I disagree. You see, I’ve loved Khalid since we were children. And he deserves to be loved by someone who understands him.” Yasmine paused for a breath. “Even if it’s not me.”
Of all the things Shahrzad expected Yasmine to say, it was not this. She’d expected the girl to threaten her or engage in other such pettiness. But this admission proved Yasmine was not just a spoiled princess, denied her heart’s desire.
She actually cares about him.
Even though he’d shown her the same icy welcome he’d granted her father.
A strange feeling of pity began eclipsing Shahrzad’s irritation.
“You understand Khalid?” Shahrzad laughed in an effort to mask her growing unease. “If so, please enlighten me. I’d be most grateful.”
Yasmine smiled with an almost mincing kind of sympathy. “That depends. How willing are you to assist your enemy, Shahrzad?”
“Alas, your great failure of the evening is that I do not see an enemy, Princess of Parthia.” Shahrzad inclined her head in a brisk bow. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“What do you see, then?” Yasmine stepped into Shahrzad’s path, her dark eyes sparkling with amusement.
“I see a beautiful manipulator. A weaver of words.”
Yasmine nodded, her half smile swooping in a lazy arc. “It must be like looking in a mirror.”
She’s quick. And fearless.
“How very fortunate.” Shahrzad grinned back. “We should all be so lucky as to share a reflection with you.”
Yasmine laughed, and for the first time, it sounded genuine. “What a shame, Shahrzad al-Khayzuran. A part of me thinks I could like you, were we to meet under a different sky, at a different time.”
“I’m surprisingly inclined to agree, Yasmine el-Sharif.” Shahrzad bowed deep, her fingertips brushing her forehead in a flourishing gesture. Then she turned on her heel to round the column . . .
And ran smack into the broad chest of a man.
She stumbled and almost fell to the floor, but a steadying hand reached for hers, saving her from certain humiliation. When Shahrzad faced her erstwhile rescuer, a pair of familiar silver-and-ash eyes stared down at her, shining with a fierce light.