“I can travel there myself,” Khalid replied.
“No,” she said. “No one knows you left, and the shahrban will be incensed if he believes something has happened to you. Not to mention Jalal. We should return quickly.”
And the magic carpet is the best way to do so.
“My uncle will be angry with me regardless. And Jalal—will be unlikely to notice.” At the mention of his cousin, Khalid’s body tensed ever so slightly.
“Of course he’ll notice.”
“I would not be so certain.”
The sudden tension—along with the hint of dejection in his voice—made Shahrzad turn back to look at him. Even in the early-morning shadows, the change in his disposition was unmistakable . . . provided one knew what to look for.
What has happened between Khalid and Jalal?
When she saw the look of warning Khalid passed in her direction, Shahrzad decided not to discuss the matter further. At least not in Tariq’s presence.
Instead, she endeavored to sit straight, stifling a cry at the shooting pain that traveled down the length of her arm. The entire right side of her body was stiff. She clenched and unclenched her fist in an attempt to restore movement to her fingers.
“Shazi”—Tariq started toward her, concern marring his face—“I don’t think you should—”
“Don’t presume I care what you think.” She glared at him while waving him off with her uninjured arm. “Especially since you’re to blame for this.”
Tariq winced. “I’ll not protest on that score. And though it’s a feeble thing to say, I am sorry. More sorry than I can put to words.”
“I know you’re sorry. We’re all very sorry any of this ever had to happen,” she said in a peevish tone. “But now is not the time to tell me what to do, especially in the face of all your mistakes.” With a cutting glare, Shahrzad returned to her task of restoring movement to the right side of her body, despite the searing ache behind each motion.
“Are you not going to stop her?” Tariq said to Khalid, his exasperation all too evident.
“No,” Khalid replied in an unruffled manner, still lying on the bed pallet in studious silence. “I’m not.”
Shahrzad shot Tariq a triumphant look.
“But will you lend me a horse and enough provisions to journey to Rey?” Khalid said to Tariq, rolling to standing with unaffected grace. Almost mocking Shahrzad for her inability to stand straight.
“Khalid!”
He swiveled to face her. “I won’t stop you from doing as you please. Just as you will not stop me.”
Tariq grinned, clearly more than a little amused to see Shahrzad thwarted. “I’d be happy to lend you a horse and provisions. But I expect full repayment in the future. With interest, for you can undoubtedly afford it. Also don’t expect to take my horse. Not this time.” He paused. “Or ever again, for that matter.”
“I agree to your terms.” Khalid stood before Tariq, the former half a hand shorter than the latter, yet the two appearing to be on strangely equal footing.
A king on par with his nobleman.
Nodding at Khalid with an almost affable expression, Tariq glanced back at Shahrzad. “I’ll gather the necessary provisions and wait for you both outside.” Then, with nothing more than a striking smile to shroud a lingering sadness, Tariq slipped through the tent flap.
He left us alone.
Tariq left to give us time alone together.
Either he had fully come to terms with the situation or Tariq was putting on a show worthy of Rey’s finest street performer.
Could it be possible he was giving her his tacit approval?
Tariq was giving Khalid a chance to prove him wrong?
Momentarily shocked into silence, Shahrzad sat still on the edge of the raised bed pallet while Khalid moved to the nearby basin to wash.
“What happened between you and Tariq?” Shahrzad began without preamble. She dropped her voice. “And who has my father’s book?”
“Tariq fired an arrow at you,” Khalid intoned without pausing in his task. “And lived to tell the tale.” He looked back at her. “As to the book, you needn’t worry about it any longer. You’ve dealt with more than enough.”
“Khalid.”
Swiping his damp hands across his face and neck, Khalid remained silent for a time. “Tariq Imran al-Ziyad and I have come to a sort of understanding.” He lifted the lid off a small wooden container beside the basin and shook a measure of ground mint and crushed rock salt onto his palm to cleanse his mouth of sleep.
“Then I should not worry?”
Finally Khalid turned to meet her gaze. “For Nasir al-Ziyad’s son, I can make no promises. But for me, you should not worry. I promise.”
The last word hung in the air with palpable meaning.
Shahrzad took in a slow breath.
Khalid would not seek reprisal for what had happened last night. Which hopefully meant he did not harbor any hidden resentment toward Tariq for trying to kill him. Nor did he wish him harm for injuring Shahrzad in the process.
The hope of reconciliation she’d dreamed of by the fire began to take shape once more.
“Will you not let me take you to Rey?” Shahrzad asked, seizing upon this newfound sentiment.
“No. I will not.” He finished his ablutions without another word on the matter.
Shahrzad wrinkled her nose in frustration as Khalid wiped his chin of excess water. “I wish you would not be so stubborn.”
“And I wish you had not jumped before an arrow last night. But wishes are for genies and the fools who believe in such things.” The hint of anger in his words brought a rash of heat to her skin.
Surely he’s not angry with me for doing such a thing.
“Do you think I meant to be shot with an arrow?” she accused. “You can’t possibly be angry at me for this, Khalid Ibn al-Rashid. I certainly did not intend to—”
“I know.” Khalid knelt before her, his hands coming to rest at her sides. “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. But”—he stopped short, the harsh lines on his face melting away—“you cannot do that again. I—cannot watch such a thing again, Shahrzad.”
Her throat swelled tight at his pained expression. And her mind drifted back to the memory of a boy who had watched his mother die before his eyes.
Khalid brought a palm to the side of her neck, brushing a thumb along her jaw. “Do you know how close that arrow came to your heart?” he whispered. “To killing you in an instant?”
“If I hadn’t pushed you, Tariq would have killed you,” she replied, lifting her hand to cover his. To press the whole of his touch into her skin.
“Better me than you.”
Her gaze hardened. “If you’re asking me if I would do it again, I would. Without question.”
“Shahrzad, you can never do that again.” His words were muted and harsh. “Promise me.”
“I can’t promise that. I will never promise such a thing. Not as long as I live. As you once said, there isn’t a choice in the matter. Not for me.”
Khalid’s chest rose and fell on a deep inhale. “I wish you would not be so stubborn.” He echoed her earlier words as his thumb grazed her cheek.
As his eyes rippled with unfettered emotion.
Shahrzad smiled. “Are you a genie or a fool?”
“A fool. As I’ve always been when it comes to you.”
“At least you can admit it.”
“At least twice.” One side of his mouth curled upward. “And only to you.”
Shahrzad shifted both hands to Khalid’s face. His stubble dragged across her skin as her fingers caressed his jaw. His eyes fell shut for an instant.
It was not the right time. Alas, it was never the right time.
But it did not matter.
Even the heaviness of the tonic did not dull the fire racing through her blood. She pulled him toward her, slanting her lips to his.
He tasted of water and mint and everything she ever hungered for in all her moments of remembrance. He smelled like the desert in the sun and the faintest trace of sandalwood. The palace at Rey and the billowing Badawi sands, coming together in perfect concert.