Shahrzad laughed softly, and the sound rolled down his spine. “Just as the dove had said, the young man came into a clearing with a single door of red lacquer, latched shut by a wooden handle. Before it sat a tribe of Weeping Men. The young man ignored the Weeping Men and proceeded straight to the door. He pressed on the wooden handle, then stepped across the threshold. Before him was a hanging garden. But it was not a garden of flowers or fruit; it was a garden of brilliant jewels. Where there should have been an apple orchard, there was instead a copse of emeralds. Where there should have been berries, he found rubies the size of his thumb. Bright yellow jasper gleamed in place of oranges. Glittering amethysts dripped in place of hyacinths. Diamonds and pearls lay shimmering on branches of jessamine. The young man stuffed his pockets full of jewel-fruits and flower-gems, laughing until his sides hurt.”
She twined her fingers through his. “When he finished walking through the hanging garden, he arrived at a beautiful village, overlooking a crystalline sea. He immediately bought the most magnificent home he could find. After he’d traversed the whole of this village, he came across another lacquered door with another wooden handle. He pressed it open and traipsed into the market of a grand city, filled with the sights and sounds of trade and the smells of delicacies. In no time at all, he had amassed a sizable amount of gold. The quality of the gems he possessed was unparalleled, and his knack for trading knew no bounds. It seemed no matter where he turned, luck was on his side! When he happened upon yet another door with a wooden handle, he pushed through it, only to cross paths with the loveliest young woman he had ever beheld. Hand in hand, they made their way across another stunning vista, filled with verdant valleys and sparkling springs. Never once did the young man look back. Ever forward. Ever toward the next door.
“Then, many years later, when the young man could no longer call himself young, he came across another door with another wooden handle and, without the slightest hesitation, he stepped through it, heedless of where it might lead.”
The only sound in the room was that of their shared breaths.
Shahrzad’s voice took on a melancholy note. “He found himself wandering through a wood. Stepping into a familiar clearing. Surrounded by a tribe of Weeping Men. The lacquered door before him did not have a handle. In that moment, the not-so-young man understood. So he sat beside his tribe . . . and began weeping.”
The silence stretched thin for a time. “Why did you choose that particular story?” Khalid finally asked.
Another stretch of silence. “Sometimes . . . I worry I want too much,” Shahrzad said.
“It’s not possible. For you deserve everything you want and more.”
She shifted to rest her chin on his shoulder, causing Khalid to wince.
“Does it hurt that much?” Her concern was all too evident.
A part of Khalid knew he should lie to spare Shahrzad worry. But he simply did not see the point. To him, lies rarely served their intended purpose. Except in necessitating more lies.
“Yes,” Khalid admitted. “But I’ll live.”
“I have something that might help.” Shahrzad placed a suggestive kiss in the middle of his back.
Despite the siege in his forehead, Khalid considered her offer. Her dark hair was a shining veil against his shoulder. The smell of rain clung to every curl. Even now, he could picture the way her lips parted when he kissed the hollow at her throat. The way her soft breath washed across his skin. The way her slim hands—
Khalid almost groaned in defeat. “I am more than willing, but I believe we’ve tried that remedy tonight. More than once.”
Another lilting spate of laughter filled the air. She slid off his back, leaving him cold. Khalid cracked open his eyes to see Shahrzad step to her pile of discarded garments.
When she returned, she held a square of green stone in her palm, strung onto a leather string. “It’s a talisman. Musa-effendi said it might help to ward away your sleeplessness.”
“Musa-effendi?” Khalid rolled over in protest. The last thing he desired was a gift from the cowardly magus he’d known as a boy. The coward who’d stood by and watched his mother drown in her own blood.
“Enough.” Shahrzad raised a hand to his chest, staying his objections. “Take help when it is offered, Khalid-jan. True strength isn’t about sovereignty. It’s about knowing when you need help and having the courage to accept it.”
Though his eyes burned, Khalid studied her as she spoke. As though he were forming an imprint, forever indelible in his mind. Her impudent chin. Her jewel eyes and vagabond hair. No one could deny that Shahrzad was beautiful. But it was not simply her beauty that captivated Khalid beyond compare.
It was the way she carried herself with such poise.
Such strength.
“You’re very wise, Shahrzad al-Khayzuran. Perhaps you should rule Khorasan. And leave me to languish in your chamber, until you have need of me.”
“Perhaps I should.” She lay alongside him. “But I was not born a boy.”
“I’ve long thought such a thing should not matter.” Khalid draped one of her legs around his.
“Will you at least see if the talisman works?”
In place of a response, Khalid buried his face in her dark waves, taking in the fragrance of lilacs and rain. She blew an exasperated puff of air above his head.
“You—”
“I’ll try it,” he said into her neck. “Now go to sleep.”
Shahrzad turned away from him, burrowing into the crook of his arm.
“Khalid?”
He fought back the beginnings of a smile. “Yes?”
“You don’t need to say you love me. I know you do. But . . . may I ask why you won’t?”
Though it was posited nonchalantly, Khalid felt the beat of Shahrzad’s heart between her shoulder blades. Felt it quicken. And it pained him to know he’d given her cause to doubt his affections. But he’d known for some time that he owed her an explanation.
In truth, he owed her much more than that.
Of course she wanted to know why. She was a girl who freely spoke her mind and generously bestowed her sentiments on those she found deserving. After all Khalid had done—and everything he’d failed to do—it would forever amaze him that she still found him to be one of the deserving.
Khalid pulled her closer. “At Ava’s grave, I swore I would spend my life showing those I loved how I felt, and never resorting to words. I promised I would do for others what I’d failed to do for her. Not to profess love. But instead to act upon it.”
They lay in silence for a time. Though he was unable to see her reaction, Khalid knew she was thinking. Knew she was taking his promise into consideration.
Perhaps it was foolish of him to hold fast to it. A promise to a girl who no longer lived. A girl who had suffered so greatly in life. And died with his lie blistering her ears.
A lie of love. The one thing she’d asked of him.
The one thing he’d never attempted to give.
In all things, Khalid had failed Ava. In this, he wished to succeed.
And he did not make promises lightly.
“I understand,” Shahrzad said.
“Shazi—”
“Since you can’t say it, will you at least tell me how much you love me?”
Khalid ran the tip of his nose beside her ear, a grateful smile upon his lips.
“From the stars, to the stars.”
ONCE AND FOR ALL
SHAHRZAD SNUCK BACK INTO HER TENT JUST AS DAWN was cresting along the horizon.
She felt fortunate to have managed the return journey unseen. In truth, she’d left Rey with not a moment to spare. Though she’d desperately wanted to stay with Khalid and watch the sky catch fire around them, she could not risk being seen.
And she knew she had to answer for how she’d left things with Irsa the night before.
As soon as their tent fell shut, Shahrzad turned to see her sister sitting up in her bedroll, her eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot.
Clearly, Irsa had not slept well. And might even have shed a tear or two.
Shahrzad stifled a sigh. “Irsa, I—”
“I told Rahim you were gone.” A note of insolence punctuated her raspy whisper.