Unmatched in their love.
Tariq. No. You can’t . . .
She tried to withdraw her hand, but he pressed something in her grasp.
A scrap of parchment.
Shahrzad wrapped her palm around it and pulled away.
“Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome, my lady.” He smiled politely.
Concerned that others might see this strange interaction, Shahrzad stepped back and smoothed the fabric of her mantle, tucking the scrap of parchment beneath her thumb.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” she said casually, though her heart tripped in her chest with worry.
He shook his head, taking her lead. “I am Tariq Imran al-Ziyad of Taleqan, my lady.” Tariq bowed, touching his hand to his brow.
The Rajput emerged from the shadows behind Tariq, scowling all the while at the young nobleman’s impressive height.
“Is this your first visit to Rey?” she continued, determined to appear at ease.
“No, my lady. I used to have relatives in the city.”
“Used to?”
Tariq grinned with ready charm, though his eyes continued to betray their depth of feeling. “Yes. But I hope to change that soon.” He lowered his voice. “When I marry.”
The sentiment behind his words was clear. She felt the warmth in his gaze, and for a moment, Shahrzad allowed herself to really look at him. To look up into the perfect face of the brash boy she fell in love with, and remember . . .
The scrawny girl whose eyes followed his every move.
And the tall boy who followed her with all of his senses.
“Shahrzad.”
At the sound of Khalid’s voice, Tariq took a protective step toward her. Shahrzad’s hazel eyes sparked in warning as she warded off a sharp current of fear.
Khalid will see everything. Because Tariq . . . can’t hide anything.
Khalid strode to her without so much as a glance at Tariq.
“Shahrzad,” he repeated.
“Yes?”
“I’ve been looking for you,” he said in an even tone.
Shahrzad twisted his way, not even bothering to hide her anger. “A thousand apologies, sayyidi. I was talking to Yasmine and lost track of what truly matters.” Her words were a carefully aimed strike.
Khalid took the blow without flinching, his amber eyes cool.
“I see.”
Do you?
Shahrzad held his gaze, her mind a muddle of thoughts and emotions.
Now was not the time or the place to share them.
After all, Khalid had his secrets.
He did not deserve to know hers.
Baba and Irsa.
Tariq.
She had to keep those she loved safe. Safe from this boy with a cruel past and an untenable future.
Safe from the sway he held over her heart.
“Have you met Tariq Imran al-Ziyad, sayyidi?” she asked Khalid, determined to have control over the situation.
Khalid blinked once. Finally, he turned to acknowledge Tariq’s presence.
Tariq’s entire demeanor hardened. His mouth flattened into a line.
Oh, God. Please do better than that.
Then he relaxed and smiled at Khalid.
“Sayyidi.” He bowed low with a hand to his brow. “I am Tariq Imran al-Ziyad, son of Nasir al-Ziyad, Emir of Taleqan.”
Khalid returned a crisp nod. “I hope you enjoy your stay in the city.”
Tariq’s smile widened. “With such hospitality, sayyidi, I’m certain I will.”
• • •
Is he insane?
Shahrzad paced in the shadows on her balcony, her heart pounding in time with her steps.
The sliver of parchment in her hand was now mingled with the sweat from her palm. A dash of ink had managed to bleed onto her skin, making a black-and-blue mess of the whole thing. She unfurled the ruin once more to read the outlandish missive scrawled across its surface in Tariq’s bold script:
Your balcony. When the moon is at its highest point in the night.
I’ll wait until dawn, if I must. Do not test me.
At least he’d had the sense not to sign it.
Utterly mad!
She crumpled it in her fist for the fifth time.
He was risking everything with his foolhardiness. With his arrogance. With his—
“Shazi?” A form materialized in the darkness at the edge of the balcony.
“Come here,” she seethed.
Tariq glided closer, hunching low. Shahrzad grabbed him by the hood of his rida’ and hauled him against the deepest shade along the wall.
“Are you completely insane?” she demanded. “Do you realize how dangerous—”
Tariq pulled Shahrzad into his chest. “God, I’ve missed you.”
When Shahrzad tried to speak again, he pressed her face tight against him, laughing at her protests. “Just stop. For the space of a moment, let me hold you.”
“You are mad, Tariq Imran al-Ziyad. Utterly mad,” she grumbled, smacking his shoulder. “How did you even manage an invitation?”
He shrugged. “I intercepted the one sent to my father at Taleqan. Or, to be more precise, Rahim intercepted it.”
“You idiot! Coming here was beyond foolish, and—”
“Foolish though it may be, I am here to finish what you started.” Tariq ran his fingers through her hair. “Tell me how you plan to kill the boy-king.”
Shahrzad was oddly silent.
“Shazi?”
“I—” she hedged.
“Have you not made plans yet?”
Shahrzad pushed away from his chest, unwilling to give voice to her uncertainty.