“No!”
Every letter Khalid had ever written, he’d written for a purpose. Every apology he’d ever made, he’d made for a reason. Every journey he’d taken into Rey, he’d taken with hope.
Because he wanted to be better.
Here was his chance to be better. Finally.
A chance to live—to love—in the light.
Blood dripping from his hands, Khalid slammed the dagger into the book.
As the book let out a final, gut-wrenching scream, the sand closed in around him. Pressed in on him, biting into his skin.
Khalid couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see. The wind and the sand strove to choke him. To steal away his last bit of purpose.
To fight for the book’s last bit of strength.
His chest heaving, Khalid tore a scrap of coarse brown linen for tinder, then struck the flint to catch a flame. The wind snuffed out the tinder in the same instant.
It took five tries to light. Five tries to fight against the billowing silt. Five tries to cup the fire close and let the pages catch flame.
The book burned blue and foul for hours.
Until the sand finally swirled back to the ground. Until Khalid finally fell with it, exhausted. He stared up at the sky, his body broken. Every wound across his skin ached, the scars reopened in the struggle. Khalid’s blood seeped into the sand. His eyelids began to droop.
He was losing consciousness. Losing blood. He would die here in the desert.
But it did not matter. If he took the curse with him. If he kept his people safe.
If he kept Shahrzad safe.
Nothing else mattered.
A strangely peaceful breeze ruffled his hair. It brought a sense of calm Khalid had only experienced around Shahrzad. That small measure of peace he always fought to keep. Like water cupped in his hand.
If Shahrzad was safe, he could be at peace.
His eyes drifted closed. Then Khalid slept.
With the jade talisman in pieces beside him.
THE SANDSTONE PALACE
WHEN SHAHRZAD WOKE, IT WAS TO THE SOUND of birds and the feel of silk.
Even the faintly scented breeze around her conveyed nothing but light and beauty.
Yet beneath it she felt nothing but the sense of being controlled. The sense of being imprisoned.
She was in a bower.
True, she was still dressed in the same rumpled qamis and dirty sirwal trowsers she last remembered wearing, but the chamber she’d slept in rivaled the finest rooms of the palace in Rey.
Indeed, it could be argued that it might even surpass them.
The open screens to her right were far more ornate in their carvings. Perhaps even a tad garish. The richly stained wood was inlaid with ivory, flecked by dark green jasper. Beyond the screens, Shahrzad could see a series of trellises shading a marbled balcony. Branches of flowering trees hung over the terrace, threading through the white latticework like drapery, their bright pink blossoms heavy on their boughs.
The walls of her chamber were sandstone. Where she could see the walls, that is. Thick tapestries clung to every exposed surface. In the corner was a table fashioned from many bits of colorful tile. It was as though a crazed artisan had taken a hammer to a rainbow, destroying something beautiful in an effort to create something decidedly less so. The pillows tossed about were bold and fringed with tiny mirrors embroidered by threads of gold and silver. On the gaudy table was a basket of flatbread and a copper tumbler, along with a platter of fresh herbs, rounds of goat cheese, small cucumbers, and an assortment of sweet chutney.
When Shahrzad examined the tray of food more closely, she noticed her host had not provided her with a knife, nor was there a utensil or sharp object of any kind in sight.
Her suspicions as to her whereabouts mounting, Shahrzad rose from the mass of silken cushions and took a turn about the room. She could not see past the intricate screens at the edge of her balcony. Indeed, she could see very little outside this prison of sandstone and ivory. When she attempted to turn both handles of the double doors—which were presumably the chamber’s entrance—they were firmly sealed from without, just as Shahrzad had expected.
Her shoulder still ached, but at least it no longer debilitated her. At least it would not inhibit her from fleeing were the opportunity to present itself.
It’s clear I’ve been “asleep” for quite some time.
Shahrzad’s thoughts turned more grim.
How long has Shiva’s father been planning to take me from the Badawi camp against my will?
For it was now obvious Reza bin-Latief had been in league with the Fida’i assassins for quite some time. Had likely been the one to send the mercenaries to Rey those many weeks ago, in an attempt to either kill Khalid or kidnap Shahrzad with a mind to use her as leverage.
And now Shahrzad had successfully been taken unawares.