Needed it to assist Reza with his efforts.
Jahandar paced from one end of his tiny tent to the other, his mind a constant flicker of thoughts, the thoughts piling one on top of another, turning tinder to flame.
There were only three people in the camp who knew of the book.
One of them had prepared his tea last night—the tea that had likely brought about his unusually restful slumber.
Another had been asking about the book for the past three days. Had asked to see the book, and learn of its contents. The book that had, until then, been of little import to anyone, save Jahandar.
Jahandar stopped pacing.
Had he been deceived by his own flesh and blood? Had his own children fleeced him? And then taken from him his one true chance to be a man of power and influence?
A man worthy of consideration.
Jahandar’s hands clenched tightly into fists. He reached for his cloak, the rage building. Passing into his arms and chest.
Swirling through his mind in a storm of hot fury.
The last of these individuals would help Jahandar get the book back.
For this man had just as much to lose by its disappearance.
Just as much to gain by its use.
Jahandar may not be sure of much anymore, but of that he was certain.
Just as he knew he would do anything to get the book back.
Even beg, barter, or steal.
Even murder.
Shahrzad knew she should leave Tariq’s tent.
She’d been inside almost all afternoon.
Though her shoulder was still sore and her body still weak from the past night’s ordeal, it was time to return to her own tent. To proceed as though all were well. For if she spent another night in Tariq’s tent, someone was bound to take notice.
And such a thing would not bode well for either of them, in the long run. Despite their feigned relationship.
She rose to her feet and winced at the sudden flare of pain that shot down one side of her body.
Her mouth and throat were parched. With a frown, Shahrzad reached for the tumbler of tonic by her bedside and nearly toppled over in the process. Cursing under her breath, she righted herself before taking a long swallow of the bitter liquid.
If she never again drank anything steeped in barley or willow bark, it would be too soon.
I cannot remain so weak. Especially since I will need to journey to Rey shortly.
Fighting to stand straight, she squared her qamis and wrapped her shahmina to conceal the thick wrappings banded about her shoulder. For a moment, she thought to wait until Irsa returned to help. Her sister had, strangely, disappeared after bringing the tonic to her bedside over an hour ago, and Shahrzad had no intention of continuing to lounge about in idle solitude.
“Shahrzad-jan?”
She almost dropped the tumbler. Trying to maintain her composure, Shahrzad tugged the shahmina even tighter about her. “Uncle Reza.” She set down the tumbler, balling her hands into fists to conceal their sudden quaking.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.” He smiled with undisguised warmth, his brown eyes almost liquid in the afternoon sun shining from beneath the tent flap.
“I wasn’t startled.” Shahrzad swallowed. “Are you looking for Tariq?”
“No.” Reza eyed the rumpled bed pallet. “I was looking for you. May I speak with you for a moment?”
“Actually, I was on my way back to my tent to meet Irsa. Is it a matter of import?”
“Somewhat.” He stepped to one side. “I can walk with you, if you don’t mind. My tent is on the way.”
Though she felt discomfited by his persistence, Shahrzad could think of no reason to demur. “Of course.”
Reza held open the tent flap for her. A guard stood outside, only to trail behind them at a distance. Shahrzad tried to mask her unease at both the guard’s nearness and the lasting pain from her ordeal.
How odd that Uncle Reza needs a guard with him at all times. Especially in his own camp.
As though he cannot trust those around him.
“What can I help you with?” she began, striving to sound lighthearted. Striving to tamp down how unnerved she felt. For it was clear Reza bin-Latief had known she was not in her own tent last night.
Does he know anything more?
Her heart hammered in her chest.
Reza smiled patiently. “I’ve noticed you’re spending more time with Tariq.”
“Yes.”
“Is everything going well?”
“Yes.” She glanced at him sidelong, unsure what he meant.
“Then you are no longer ill?”
Again, Shahrzad swallowed. “No.”
“I’ve been worried about you of late. Word has reached me that you’ve been unusually tired during the day . . .” He trailed off, watching her all too circumspectly.
Shahrzad grinned, then bit her lip, affecting a sheepish expression. “I think the past few months have simply taken a toll on me, Uncle Reza. It’s been a bit of an—adjustment here. But I’m much better now.”