“Again, I understand.”
“Forgive my insolence, sayyidi, but you do not. I warned you before, and now my worst fears are coming to fruition. You cannot maintain this farce for much longer. If you do not find a way to sleep—”
“Please.” Khalid rose to his feet.
The old man drifted back and bowed with preternatural grace.
“Again, I thank you.” Khalid returned the bow and raised his hand to his forehead in respect.
“Do not thank me, sayyidi,” the old man replied as he floated to the ebony doors. “My service is to the hope for a great king. See that you grant him the chance to prove me right.” He grasped a bronze handle, stopping to glance at Shahrzad once more before disappearing into the darkness, leaving them alone.
Khalid eased onto the edge of the bed, his eyes bloodshot and his features holding fast to traces of strain.
Shahrzad sat down next to him. She said nothing for a time, and the air grew thick, laden with their unspoken thoughts.
Then he turned his head toward her. “Before—”
“You can’t sleep?” she interjected in a small voice.
He inhaled through his nose. “No.”
“Why?”
Khalid bent forward, his black hair grazing his forehead.
She reached for his hand. “Tell me.”
He peered sideways at her, and his look of misery robbed her of breath.
Shahrzad wrapped both her hands around one of his. “Please, Khalid.”
He nodded once. “Before I start, I need you to know how sorry I am.”
Her pulse wavered. “For what?”
“For everything. But mostly for what I’m about to tell you.”
“I don’t—”
“It’s a burden, Shazi,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “This secret is an encumbrance I never wanted for you. Once you know it, it can’t be taken back. Whatever happens, its cold certainty will remain with you. The fear, the worry, the guilt—they become yours.”
Shahrzad inhaled carefully. “I won’t say I understand, because I don’t. But if it’s your burden—if it causes you to suffer—I wish to know.”
Khalid studied the stretch of black onyx before him. “Her name was Ava.”
“Ava?”
“My first wife. I married her not long after I turned seventeen. It was an arranged marriage. One I arranged to avoid what I considered a far worse fate. How wrong I was.”
Khalid laced his fingers through hers.
“I was never meant to rule Khorasan. My brother, Hassan, was raised to take the throne. When he died in battle, it was too late for my father to rectify the years he had spent punishing me for my mother’s perceived transgressions. There was no relationship between us—nothing but memories of blood and dreams of retribution. Upon his death, I was as unprepared to rule as any boy filled with hate would be. As you once said—I was predictable. Predictably angry. Predictably jaded.”
Shahrzad watched Khalid’s weary eyes fade in recollection.
“I was also determined to be everything my father despised in a king. Before he died, he had wanted me to marry Yasmine—to unite the kingdoms of Khorasan and Parthia. Following his death, his advisors continued to push for the match. Even Uncle Aref felt it was a wise, albeit unfortunate, decision. I was adamant in my refusal—to the point where I dismissed my father’s remaining advisors and sought my own counsel.”
Shahrzad’s features tightened. “You despise Yasmine that much?”
Khalid shook his head. “Yasmine is not without her merits, but I never felt real affection for her. More than that, I could not willingly join my family with that of Salim Ali el-Sharif. When my mother was alive, he treated her like a rich man’s whore, and he never failed to exploit any opportunity to speak ill of her after her death. Even as a boy, I remember longing for the day when I would be strong enough to punish him for the things he said.” A corner of his lips quirked upward in bitter amusement.
“Revenge isn’t what you expected, is it?” Shahrzad asked quietly.
“No. It’s not. And it never will be. Revenge won’t replace what I’ve lost.”
Shahrzad swallowed, looking away. “Salim must have been very angry about your refusal to marry Yasmine.”
“I never refused. It never went that far. When the pressure to marry Yasmine grew—to embolden the ties between our kingdoms and solidify my weak stance as a young caliph—I decided the best way to avoid the insult of an outright refusal was to marry someone else. Ava was from a good family in Rey, and she was kind and smart. Once we were married, I tried to be attentive, but it was difficult. I still had many things to learn about being a king, and I didn’t know how to be a husband. Like me, Ava was not the type to readily share her thoughts and feelings, and the moments we spent with each other often drifted to silence. She started to grow distant . . . and sad. Yet I still did not invest the time necessary to learn the reasons. After a few months of marriage, she had withdrawn a great deal, and our interaction was rather limited. In truth, the awkwardness made me even less inclined to seek her out. On the rare occasions I tried to speak with her, she always appeared elsewhere—lost in a world I never sought to understand.”
His face had become more worn and haggard as he spoke.
“Everything changed when Ava found out she was pregnant. Her entire demeanor shifted. She began to smile again. Began planning for a future. I thought all would be well and, like a fool, I was glad for it.”