Whatever torment he had to endure. Whatever evil he had to face.
There was nothing that mattered more.
Then he heard a noise in the far corner of the room.
He blinked hard, trying to refocus. His muscles tensed with heightened awareness when a flash of movement blurred across his vision. Khalid squeezed his eyes shut, fighting to clear the lines, fighting to see through the layers of fog and shadow. The pain between his brows grew as his pulse rose to meet the unforeseen challenge.
Another blur of motion flitted across the room, this time in the opposite corner.
Khalid removed his arm from around Shahrzad and reached for the pitcher of water by the platform.
When a new flash of movement caught his attention beside his desk, Khalid heaved the pitcher in its direction and shot to his feet, his shamshir in hand.
The sound of the pitcher shattering against the ebony woke Shahrzad, and she sat up with a startled cry.
“Khalid? What’s wrong?”
Khalid said nothing as he regarded the stillness around his desk. He blinked again. Hard. His eyes blazed with the fire of a thousand suns. He pressed a palm between his brows and gritted his teeth.
Shahrzad rose from the bed and strode to his side. “Are you—hurt?”
“No. Go back to sleep.” It sounded needlessly cruel, even to him.
“You’re lying to me.” She reached up and wrapped soft fingers around his wrist. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Again, his pain lanced through the word, making his response more abrupt than he intended.
She tugged on his arm. “Liar.”
“Shahrzad—”
“No. Tell me the truth, or I’m leaving your chamber.”
Khalid remained silent, the beast in his head roaring with untold vigor.
Shahrzad choked back a sob. “Again. And again.” She spun on her heel and glided toward the ebony doors.
“Stop!” Khalid tried to go after her, but his head throbbed and his sight distorted to such a degree that following her was impossible. With an incoherent slur, Khalid dropped his shamshir and sank to his knees, his palms clutching either side of his head.
“Khalid!” Shahrzad gasped. She ran back and crouched beside him. “What is it?”
He could not respond.
Khalid heard her race to the doors and yank one open.
“My lady?” a guard inquired.
“Find Captain—no, General al-Khoury,” Shahrzad insisted. “Right away.”
She waited by the door until a soft knock struck a short while later.
“My lady Shahrzad,” his uncle began. “Is everything—”
“His head. Please. He’s—in a lot of pain.” The sound of fear in her voice unnerved Khalid. More than he cared to admit.
“Stay with him. I’ll return shortly.”
The door closed.
Shahrzad returned to his side. Khalid leaned back against the edge of his bed and braced his elbows on his knees, pressing both palms to his forehead with enough force to paint stars across his vision.
When the door opened once more, Shahrzad stiffened. He felt her draw closer in wary protectiveness.
“Sayyidi.” The voice of the faqir echoed from above him.
Khalid sighed, his eyes still squeezed shut.
“My lady,” his uncle said. “Please come with me.”
Her body tensed even further, gearing for battle. “I—”
“Shahrzad-jan,” his uncle interjected very gently. “Please.”
“No,” Khalid rasped. He reached out a hand for her. “She stays.”
“Khalid-jan—”
Khalid forced opened his screaming eyes and stared up at his uncle.
“My wife stays.”
AVA
SHAHRZAD DID NOT KNOW WHAT TO MAKE OF THE scene unfolding before her.
The strange old man garbed in white did not walk with the gait of a normal person. He did not blink, nor did he appear to breathe.
And he was studying her with such piercing intent that it twisted her stomach into a coil of knots.
“Sayyidi,” the strange man repeated, shifting closer to Khalid.
Without a word, Khalid bowed his head. The man raised his palms beside Khalid’s temples. Then he closed his eyes. Shahrzad felt the air in the room still. A peculiar sensation settled around her heart, sliding chills down her back.
When the strange man opened his eyes once more, they glowed white, like the blinding center of a flame. Between his hands, a warm, red-orange fireburst spread around the entirety of Khalid’s brow.
The peculiar feeling in her chest flared, and Shahrzad smothered a gasp. It reminded her of that afternoon last week . . . with the floating carpet.
The circle of light around Khalid’s head pulsed yellow, flashing brighter before spiraling up into the darkness. Then it retracted back into the old man’s clawed hands.
And the sensation around her heart disappeared.
Khalid exhaled carefully. His shoulders rolled forward, and the tension began easing from his body.
“Thank you,” he whispered to the man, his voice parched and raw.
Shahrzad gazed up at this strange wielder of magic. Again, he was staring down at her with an oddly discerning expression.
“Thank you,” Shahrzad reiterated, at a loss.
The old man frowned, his unblinking eyes awash with discomfort. “Sayyidi—”
“Your counsel is always appreciated. I’m aware of your concerns,” Khalid interrupted in a quiet tone.
The old man paused. “It’s getting worse. And it will only continue to progress in this fashion.”