Smiling the entire time, Artan brought both hands beside his face, as though he meant to surrender. Then the center of his palms promptly burst into flame.
“I’ll admit I was trying to provoke you,” Artan said without a hint of fear. “It’s a pastime of mine. Shahrzad told me you have a temper. But things have escalated a bit faster than I might have intended. Why don’t we—”
“Was it you who burned her?” Though a bead of sweat slipped down his neck, Khalid did not flinch from the whirling spheres of fire.
Artan’s eyes grew wide. Unlike Khalid, he was unable to mask his reaction. Guilt rippled across his features, causing his bare scalp to flush red. “Well, uh—”
“Stop it, both of you!” Shahrzad grabbed Artan by the back of his shirt and yanked him away from Khalid. “What are you doing?” For a moment, she considered punching Artan square in the nose. “Are you completely deranged?” Then she whirled on Khalid. “And you have been nothing short of abominable this entire evening. First with Musa-effendi, and now with Artan. They’re trying to help us, Khalid!”
Despite her condemnations, the shamshir stayed at the ready. And the spheres of fire continued spinning.
“Put them away at once, you miserable louts!” Shahrzad insisted. “This is why the world would be a far better place in the hands of women.”
“By far better you mean far less interesting.” Artan grinned once more, though he extinguished his weapons. “Wouldn’t you agree, O King of Kings?”
Khalid lowered his sword, but kept his icy stare fixed on Artan.
“Hmm.” Artan paused in consideration. “If not for our brief but charming exchange, I’d almost be worried you’d married a mute, my dear little snipe. I’d understand, given how much you talk, but I have to say I’m a bit surprised.”
“He’s not mute,” Shahrzad said. “He just doesn’t suffer fools.”
“Therefore he must have very little to say around you.” Artan winked, flinging an arm about her shoulders and pulling her close.
Shahrzad placed a hand in his face, shoving him back. “He speaks when the company merits it, you ass.”
“However does he survive, being surrounded at all times by such fools?”
“One stab at a time,” Khalid said quietly, sheathing his sword with a pointed snap.
At that, Artan threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, I like him, little snipe. He doesn’t say much, but he speaks true. He can stay.”
“Stay?” Shahrzad said. “I thought we were going to see your aunt.”
“We are, we are!” Artan tugged on an earring. “It’s just that Shesha’s being a bit—uncooperative at the moment.” He pivoted in the sand and moved toward higher ground. Then he tossed two fur-lined robes back at them. “Find a way to secure these to that tiny carpet; you’re going to need them.”
Shahrzad eyed the thick piles of fur at their feet. “Artan . . . where are we going?” Her voice dripped with suspicion.
“To a hidden fortress.” He waggled his brows. “Carved into a mountain.”
THE DARK SIDE OF A MIRROR
THIS WAS THE FARTHEST SHAHRZAD HAD EVER FLOWN on the magic carpet.
Before, her journeys had taken no more than an hour. True, she’d traveled faster than she’d ever believed possible—the ground had blurred beneath her, and the stars had stretched thin on either side—but she’d always had a vague sense of where she was going.
This time, she had not the slightest notion.
The carpet soared eastward for more than two hours. Then, when an expanse of mountains—far higher and far more imposing than those in Khorasan—appeared on the horizon, the carpet began to rise.
The air began to grow crisp and cold.
Without a word, Khalid draped one of the fur-lined cloaks around them and held her close. The chill had not seeped through Shahrzad’s skin—it never did, thanks to the warmth of the magic in her veins—but she was not one to shy away from the chance to feel Khalid’s body against hers. A smile curved across her face as she settled in to his chest and traced an idle fingertip along his palm, all while surveying the mountains silhouetted in the distance.
Shahrzad had commanded the carpet to follow the winged serpent, but she still felt strange watching the slithering beast cavort through the clouds. She’d never seen such an odd creature before. Though she’d heard tell of such things, Shahrzad had always considered them as one might consider a faraway star. Or a tale of old.
In the starlight, Shesha’s long silver whiskers trailed on either side of his pointed snout, like slender ribbons streaming in a soft breeze. His whiskers were whimsical in their bent, and his eyes were unnerving, for they glittered with the bloodred menace of the finest Hindustani ruby.