“I have never—”
“You have.” She sat tall. “Had you not been who you are, perhaps I would not have repelled those I truly care for. Perhaps then I could have found the happiness I sought.”
Shahrzad saw Yasmine’s eyes flit to Khalid for less than an instant. It was not intentional. And Shahrzad did not resent it, for she understood. Yasmine had known all along that her father’s deplorable actions had been a hindrance to her union with Khalid.
Yasmine took a deep breath. “Perhaps then you would not have had to resort to such base means to achieve your goals.”
Anger lighted Salim’s gaze once more. “And now that we are here, what is to become of us, daughter? For in doing what you have done, you have abased our family. Would you have me surrender? Would you have us lose all for your childish hopes?”
She did not respond.
“You may do as you please, Salim,” Khalid replied instead. “You may turn and walk from this table now, if that is what you wish to do,” he continued. “But the gates of your city will burn until dawn. And once they are gone, there is nothing to stop us from laying siege to Amardha.” Khalid leaned forward. “But I would rather not. I would rather not kill so many people for my pride and your conceit.”
“Then you would have me surrender?” Salim bit out in a wrathful whisper.
“You surrendered the moment you appeared before my tent.”
A wave of fury passed across the sultan’s face. “And what of the others involved in this? Many of your bannermen have supplied arms and funds to this cause. What of them?” His voice grew louder. “What of Reza bin-Latief?”
It was Tariq who spoke in response to this charge. “Make no mistake: my plotting uncle will be dealt with. As will the others aligned with him. There is much to be discussed.” He exchanged a knowing glance with Shahrzad. A glance she was glad to share. Glad to understand. Finally.
“What is it you want, Khalid Ibn al-Rashid?” Salim demanded. “My death?”
Khalid let his eyes linger on the Sultan of Parthia in pointed consideration. “I should kill you for all you have done. For all the pain and death and destruction you have brought on those dearest to me.”
“You do not have the courage.” Though Salim said the words in sharp retort, Shahrzad could sense a trace of fear beneath them.
“It does not take courage to kill. It takes courage to live.”
“Then what do you want of me?”
“I want you to abdicate your throne,” Khalid replied. “I will give you a home outside Rey in which you will reside, with guards to stand watch at all times. Guards I will appoint.”
Rage contorted Salim’s features once more. “And I suppose you will become ruler of Parthia? Ruler of all my family has held for over five generations?”
“I told you before. I have no interest in taking control of your kingdom.”
“Then who is to rule?”
Khalid looked to Shahrzad. She glanced back at him, relishing how he gave her leave to divulge the best secret of all. The agreement they’d come to last night. Together.
Shahrzad held Khalid’s gaze. “I think Yasmine el-Sharif would make an excellent Sultana of Parthia, my king.”
“As do I, my queen.”
Jahandar sat at his corner of the table in the caliph’s tent and watched his world unravel like a skein of silk.
He had chosen wrong. He had thought Reza bin-Latief would be the one to help him find a way back into the book’s graces. Back into power. Back into influence.
He’d thought the Sultan of Parthia would help him find a way.
Jahandar had been horribly, horribly wrong.
He had not realized how much enmity existed between Shahrzad and Salim Ali el-Sharif. He’d foolishly thought Shahrzad would help to win the sultan over to his cause. After all, his daughter was married to the sultan’s nephew. Though Jahandar knew the sultan intended to dethrone the caliph, Salim had assured him no harm would come to Shahrzad. It was why Jahandar had been so willing to go along with Reza’s plan to steal away Shahrzad to Amardha.
But everything had fallen apart that awful night at dinner.
Jahandar had realized then that the boy-king—the Caliph of Khorasan—had already won this war. Had already grasped the power Jahandar needed to succeed. For the caliph had already taken control of everything Jahandar held dear.
When Jahandar had tried to find Irsa in the desert, he’d been unable to do so. Now he’d learned from the captain of the guard that she was amongst the caliph’s soldiers. Safely ensconced in his camp. Beyond Jahandar’s reach.
When Jahandar had tried to enlist Shahrzad’s help in retrieving his book, it had been clear she’d already agreed to work alongside the caliph to take it from him. The caliph who’d stolen the book from Jahandar while he slept.
The caliph who’d used Jahandar’s own children against him.
Where was his book?
He’d lost his wife. He’d lost his standing in Rey.
Now he’d lost his daughters.