“You have to—” Shahrzad released a shaky breath. “We have to stop this. Before anyone else dies.”
“I will do no such thing,” Captain al-Khoury replied.
“What have we done?” It was a pathetic, soul-searing entreaty.
Captain al-Khoury hoisted Shahrzad to her feet. “Nothing. You’ve done nothing.”
She shook her head, her features lost and bleak. “Khalid . . . will have to—”
“No. He would never.”
“But how can we live like this?” she cried. “I can’t. He can’t!”
Tariq could stand it no longer. “What are you talking about?”
“Tariq Imran al-Ziyad.” Captain al-Khoury continued studying Shahrzad while he spoke. “I have a request.”
“The answer is no.”
“Don’t you want to hear it first?”
Tariq glowered at him in silence.
Captain al-Khoury twisted his head to meet Tariq’s gaze. “Take Shahrzad out of Rey.”
“That was always my intention.”
Shahrzad’s eyes glistened. “Jalal—”
“Take her with you.” Captain al-Khoury gripped Shahrzad’s shoulders.
“No. I can’t leave.” She fought to set her quaking jaw. “I won’t leave. I’m not . . . afraid.”
Captain al-Khoury faced her. “Listen to me. For once. I beg you.”
Shahrzad began to protest, and a gust of hot air blew back at them, further dispersing the strange perfume of sweet roses and harsh smoke. She closed her eyes tight and pressed a hand to her chest.
“Tariq. Where is my father?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
“Beyond the city,” he replied. “Waiting . . . atop a hill.”
Her eyes flew open, and she stared at Tariq with an eerie, newfound certainty.
“Take me to him.” Without waiting for a response, she brushed past Captain al-Khoury and walked into the stables to saddle a horse.
Tariq turned to watch as she disappeared into the darkness, her posture stiff and her stride perfunctory. He had only begun to process his confusion when Captain al-Khoury seized him by the arm.
Tariq knocked away the arrogant boy’s hand. “What—”
“Do you still love her?” He spoke in an urgent whisper.
“That’s none of your business.”
“Answer me, you fool. Do you?”
Tariq clenched his teeth, returning the captain of the Royal Guard’s fierce glare.
“Always.”
“Then make sure she never comes back.”
BURNING EMBERS
THE TWO RIDERS MET IN THE MIDDLE OF A SKY-darkened desert.
One atop a simple steed of grey, and the other astride a magnificent white stallion.
Behind each stood a cadre of armed soldiers.
The rider with the white stallion spoke first. “I am told we share a common enemy.” His voice was rich and patently false.
The other rider returned his measured study.
“So it would seem, my lord.”
The first rider smiled with unctuous slowness. “You are as they described, Reza bin-Latief.”
“As are you, my lord.”
The Sultan of Parthia laughed. “I will take that as a compliment.”
“It was meant as such, my lord. Forgive me for failing to convey the sentiment properly, but I did not agree to this meeting for the purpose of exchanging banter with you.”
The sultan’s laughter echoed into the night. “A man of candor. I am pleased. Shall we cease with the pleasantries and proceed to business?”
“By all means, my lord.”
“What are your intentions regarding my bastard nephew?”
“Suffering. And annihilation.”
The sultan’s eyes gleamed with a martial light. “I see.”
“And what are yours?”
“Humiliation . . . followed by annihilation. Perhaps we could assist one another in our shared objective?”
“My assistance depends on what you have to offer, my lord.”
“For now, I can offer money and weapons. Once you secure the border and strengthen your existing forces, I will be open in my support, but until that time, I cannot risk pressing the boy’s wrath any further.”
“Understandable.”
The sultan gestured behind him, and a pair of guards brought forth a small sealed trunk. “A gesture of gold faith. Once these funds are depleted, send word, and I will dispatch more.”
Reza nodded. He glanced over his shoulder at his retinue, and two hooded figures stepped forward to collect the gold.
As one figure bent to lift the trunk, the light of a blue desert moon struck against the skin of his forearm.
On it was the mark of the scarab.
• • •
Shahrzad,
I’ve failed you several times. But there was one moment I failed you beyond measure. It was the day we met. The moment I took your hand and you looked up at me, with the glory of hate in your eyes. I should have sent you home to your family. But I didn’t. There was honesty in your hatred. Fearlessness in your pain. In your honesty, I saw a reflection of myself. Or rather, of the man I longed to be. So I failed you. I didn’t stay away. Then, later, I thought if I had answers, it would be enough. I would no longer care. You would no longer matter. So I continued failing you. Continued wanting more. And now I can’t find the words to say what must be said. To convey to you the least of what I owe. When I think of you, I can’t find the air to breathe. And now, though you are gone, there is no pain or fear. All I am left with is gratitude.