SHAHRZAD KNEW SHE WAS DREAMING.
Knew it and did not care.
For she was home.
Her bare feet trod upon cool stone as they made their way down the cavernous corridors toward the doors of her chamber. With her heart in her throat, she took hold of one handle and pushed it open.
It was dark. A deep-blue dark. The kind that brought the cold with it, no matter the temperature.
The marble floor was covered in a gently curling fog. It pooled waist-deep, like thick white smoke, from wall to wall. As she took a slow step forward, it parted around her like a ghostly sea, cleaved by the prow of a haunted ship.
A warm light began to glow in the center of the chamber. It hung above her bower—a silent sentinel, surrounded by a veil of diaphanous silk.
In the middle of a platform of cushions sat a lone figure, shrouded in shadow.
“Khalid?”
Shahrzad moved through the fog at a quicker pace, her eyes squinting through the blue darkness and the gossamer veil—
Struggling to catch a glimpse of the face she so longed to see.
The figure shifted. Moved aside a swath of spider-silk.
“No, Shazi-jan. I am not he. But I hope you’ll forgive this intrusion.” The figure smiled at her with the knowing smile of secrets past, present, and future.
And Shahrzad stumbled, barely squelching a cry.
A bubble of laughter burst from the jewel-toned cushions, so familiar and so full of light that it tore at Shahrzad’s heartstrings.
How many times had she wished to hear that sound just once more?
She’d been willing to kill for it.
“Shiva?” Shahrzad whispered in disbelief as she rounded the foot of the bed and reached for the silk curtain.
“Come!” Shiva said, patting the space beside her.
Shahrzad’s hands shook as she pushed aside a pane of gossamer and knelt onto the cushions. As if in a trance, she stared at her best friend, waiting for her to disappear.
Waiting for the crushing emptiness that was sure to follow.
Shiva smiled, impish and full of life. A single dimple marred her left cheek, as perfectly imperfect as always.
The image tore at yet another heartstring. For just as Shahrzad knew this to be a dream, she knew she would have to wake at some point.
And face this for the lie that it was.
The dimple appeared again as Shiva hooked a fall of dark hair behind an ear. “Silly goose. Just because we’re in a dream doesn’t mean this is a lie.”
“So you’re in my head now?” Shahrzad retorted.
“Of course! I’ve always been here.” Shiva rested her chin on one knee. “I’ve just been waiting until you needed me.”
“But”—Shahrzad caught herself, surprised by a sudden wash of anger—“I’ve needed you so many times, Shiva.”
“No, you haven’t. I’ve watched you. You’ve done splendidly on your own.” The edges of Shiva’s eyes crinkled with pride.
“But I haven’t,” Shahrzad continued. “I’ve made so many mistakes. I fell in love with the boy responsible for your death!”
“You did. And that was difficult to watch, at times. Especially the morning you almost died.”
“I betrayed you.”
“No, you goose. You didn’t betray me. I told you; I was here the whole time. And I have a confession to make . . .” Shiva’s eyes drifted sideways, sparkling with sly awareness. Filled with vibrant light. “The moment I saw him running toward you that morning, I knew you were going to save him, just as he saved you.” When Shiva reached a hand toward hers, Shahrzad jumped at its warmth.
It felt so real. So achingly alive.
Again, Shiva smiled, her slender shoulders easing forward with lissome grace. “It feels real because you remember me this way. And it’s lovely to be remembered as warm and perfectly imperfect.” Shiva laced her fingers through Shahrzad’s and held tight.
For a moment, the tension in Shahrzad’s throat made it difficult to speak. “I’m—so sorry for loving him, Shiva-jan. So sorry for not being stronger.”
“What a ridiculous thing to apologize for!” Shiva’s fine-boned features looked doll-like in her outrage. “You should know better. Never apologize for such nonsense again. You of all people should know what happens when you disobey me.” She shook a fist, laughing teasingly as she brought to mind their many childhood squabbles. Shahrzad could not help but join in her laughter, until its chorus filled the space around them.
“I don’t want to wake up.” The laughter died on Shahrzad’s lips, its echo calling back to her from beyond the double doors. From a gateway between worlds.
“And I don’t want you to wake up,” Shiva said. “Yet, when the time comes, you will wake up, all the same.”
“Perhaps we should just stay here.”