“I told you there was nothing to forgive. And I meant it.”
“Then why did you do it?” Jalal’s sword fell to his side, but his face remained knotted by anger.
“What are you talking about?” Any more of these continued vagaries, and it would be a struggle for Khalid to keep his temper.
Jalal considered Khalid, clearly searching for signs of artifice.
“Despina.”
Everything around Khalid stilled. Even the very air around him swirled to a sudden halt.
“You sent her away,” Jalal whispered, his tone hollow. “After I confided in you. You must have known of whom I was speaking. Or my father must have asked you to send her away. And you did it. Without question.” He took a slow step forward. Then another. “In the end, family is nothing to you. I . . . am nothing to you.”
Something flared in Khalid at these words. “I never—”
Jalal’s eyes darkened to a muddy haze. “Don’t start lying to me. Not now.”
“I’m not. I would never lie to you.”
“Then it’s a coincidence?” He cast Khalid an arch glance. “That—mere days after I tell you I want to marry the girl carrying my child—she’s sent away from the palace, without explanation?”
“I didn’t send her away. She asked to leave.” The truth in its entirety stood poised on the tip of Khalid’s tongue. He wanted to tell his cousin what had happened. But now the circumstances seemed so . . . odd. Now that Khalid knew what had transpired—and the true identity of Jalal’s love—Despina’s hasty marriage to Vikram appeared more than a little suspicious.
More than a little convenient.
Especially for a girl so versed in secrets and lies.
Khalid made another quick study of Jalal al-Khoury’s face.
At the poorly hidden pain marring his cousin’s features.
He would not risk causing Jalal any further pain. Not until he had answers.
Not until he knew what Despina was hiding.
Khalid closed the distance between them and placed a tentative hand on Jalal’s shoulder. “Especially if I’d known your true feelings, I would never have sent Despina away. Even if Uncle Aref had made such a request, I would not have done so. Jalal—”
“Why not?” Jalal’s lips thinned, his eyes going chillingly blank. “I sent away the girl you love. So it stands to reason that you would send away the girl I love as punishment. You’ve always had a bad temper. I just never knew you possessed such a mind for revenge as well.”
At that, Khalid felt his temper rise in a hot spike. “I do not possess a mind for revenge.”
Perhaps he had in the past. But he didn’t now. Not anymore.
Not since Shahrzad.
The pain on Jalal’s face dissolved in a scoff of disbelief. “It appears you’re more like your father than I thought.”
“I am nothing like my father.” Though he fought to keep his temper at bay, Khalid’s fingers balled into fists. “I thought you knew that. You’ve spent most of your life trying to convince me of it.”
“And you’ve spent most of yours trying to convince me otherwise. Congratulations. You’ve finally succeeded.” Jalal clapped with pejorative slowness, the hilt of his scimitar caught between his hands. “What was it you used to say in moments of poetic fancy? ‘We are as a rose unfurling, becoming more clearly ourselves?’” he jeered, his anger making him reckless. His anguish making him foolish. “You lost something you love. I suppose you thought it only fitting that I lose something I love. Unfortunately in this case, I lost two things—an entire family.”
His accusation hung in the small space between them, bitter and broken in tone.
Though no less harsh for its brokenness.
No less effective.
Khalid knew Jalal spoke from a place beyond reason. Still, he could not ignore the sharp stab each of his words inflicted upon him . . . and the responding desire to return his cousin’s efforts with some spite of his own.
After all, if he was to be accused of monstrous behavior irrespective of proof, should he not rise to the occasion?
Khalid cut his eyes, peering down his nose at Jalal. “If she left you, it is not my fault,” he said, in that softly condescending manner his cousin so despised. “If you loved her, it was your responsibility to marry her. Your responsibility to care for her. Your responsibility to tell her you loved her.”
Laughter rolled from Jalal’s lips, the sound as caustic as vinegar.
“As you told Shazi?”
Four more stabs. Each so effective.
“She knows how I feel.” Despite the cool efficiency of his retort, the air was leached from around Khalid once more, and his fists drew even tighter against his sides.
“And now, so do I. Keep watch over your shadow, Khalid-jan. Because, for the first time in eighteen years, I won’t be there to watch it for you.”
THE FIRE
THERE WAS FAR TOO MUCH ANGER IN THE AIR. FAR too much hatred.
Such emotions made it difficult to think rationally. Not that actual sense seemed of import to any of the brash fools present.
Omar al-Sadiq frowned at the gathering of men in his tent.