His lips stayed poised between silence and speech for the span of several breaths.
“You—are awful, Shazi. Just awful.” He rubbed a palm across his face, but not before Shahrzad saw the look of aggrievement he failed to mask.
She squeezed her elbows, refusing to reach out and comfort him. No matter how much she wanted to. No matter how natural it felt to comfort the boy she’d loved for so long.
“I know I’m awful. So it begs the question: Why are you here?”
“I’ve asked myself that same question, several times . . . especially as I lay in the cold sand, keeping watch over an awful girl. One with little sense of gratitude and no sense of loyalty.”
It was as though he’d doused her with icy water.
Fending off a fresh wave of guilt, she whirled away, her cheeks aflame.
Tariq chased after her, taking hold of her arm.
Shahrzad threw him off. “Don’t touch me, Tariq Imran al-Ziyad! Don’t you dare!” She was horrified to feel the sting of tears behind her eyes. Not once had she cried in the past few days. Not when they’d found her father’s huddled figure on a cloud-darkened slope. Not when she’d turned to take in a final glimpse of her burning city behind her.
Not even when she’d learned Tariq had promised Jalal never to bring her back.
Tariq drew her close without a second thought.
“Stop it.” She splayed both hands against his chest as angry tears began to well. “I don’t need you!”
You deserve someone who will feel you at her side without needing to see you.
And I’ve only felt that way about one boy.
“Stop trying to hurt me, you awful girl,” he said grimly. “It won’t work. At least not in the way you hope it will.”
Hot tears slipped down her face. Yet she refused to lean on him. Refused to succumb to such weakness.
With a weary sigh, Tariq wrapped his arms around her.
They felt solid, certain, safe.
They felt like everything she’d ever loved about being young and free. The scent of sand and salt on his skin; the wild feeling of falling and knowing someone would always be there to catch her or, at the very least, tend to her wounds; the newness of all things . . . and of love, especially.
“Rahim told me what happened.” Tariq’s fingers shifted to the nape of her neck as they had so many times before, so many years past. He lowered his voice; it rumbled, rich and resonant against her, almost decadent. A luxury she no longer needed nor deserved. “I’ll beat that boy bloody for even thinking such things.”
No.
Shahrzad pushed away from him. “It isn’t your place. I’ve already spoken to Teymur. He won’t pursue the matter further.”
Tariq’s eyes flashed. “My place?”
“I’ve handled the matter, Tariq. Do nothing, as it would serve no purpose, save to shed more blood. And I’ve had enough of that.” She shouldered her way past him.
He cut her off, his jaw jutting forward, his fists at his sides. “Would you shackle the boy-king in such a manner?”
“Don’t compare yourself to Khalid. It’s childish and beneath you.”
Tariq winced, but stood his ground. “Answer me, Shazi. Would you tell him it wasn’t his place to rage against this boy for what he did to you?”
She paused. “Yes.”
“And he would listen to you?” His brows gathered in disbelief.
“He . . . would listen.”
Then do exactly as he pleased.
“You’re lying,” Tariq scoffed. “I don’t believe for a moment that butcher you call a husband would let that boy see another dawn after what he did to you.”
“What Khalid would do is none of your concern.” She was dangerously close to shouting. “And I’m finished discussing this incident and my butcher of a husband with you!” Shahrzad sliced a hand through the air with finality.
“So now you think it’s your place to control what happens in this camp?” Tariq said. “Is that why that sniveling boy was returned to his people, like a child to be scolded? Did you honestly think—”
“I honestly thought nothing would be served from shedding more blood. Teymur was taken to the Emir of Karaj’s tent to be dealt with accordingly. And it is my place to decide how to deal with this matter. It is not”—she jabbed a finger into his chest—“your place to dole out justice on my behalf!”
“Do you truly believe the emir will punish him for what he did today? He won’t. And now I have no idea where Teymur is. For I doubt that fiend was sent away to be dealt with, as you’d so like to believe. He’s gone and, with him, all sense of justice!” Tariq threw his arms wide, his face marred by exasperation. “Did you know Teymur was set to marry into the emir’s family? It’s possible the emir even put him up to the task.”
“You will not seek revenge on my behalf, Tariq Imran al-Ziyad. I forbid—”
He grabbed her by the shoulders. “I will do as I damned well please, Shahrzad al-Khayzuran!” His voice was raw in its torment. “I denied myself what I wanted once out of principle, and not a day goes by that I don’t regret that decision with every fiber of my being!”