“Of course.”
“What kind of fool husband is this?”
“The best kind. The type to say very little.”
“Will you never stop lying?” Shahrzad said through her teeth. She turned with pointed intent toward Salim. “My lord, did you know the father of her child is—”
“The caliph’s favorite bodyguard,” Despina finished with a slow smile.
Shahrzad blinked once. Twice. “What?” she yelled, slamming her wine goblet onto the table.
Again, a pair of guards materialized from the shadows.
Despina aimed a cutthroat grin her way. “Vikram Singh is the father. Did you not know? And here I thought you two were rather close.”
The—Rajput? Vikram is here? I thought he had perished the night of the storm.
Stunned into silence for the second time that evening, Shahrzad continued staring at her former handmaiden, trying to reconcile all she’d seen with all that had long been thought and said.
No. That is not possible. Where is the truth in all these lies?
“Don’t worry, Shahrzad,” Despina said. “Vikram is safe. Or, rather, he’s as safe as he can be, given the circumstances.”
Immediately, Shahrzad’s most pressing questions melted away. “What have you done with Vikram?”
To her right, she heard Jahandar stifle a troubled sigh. A sigh meant to silence her questions.
“Father?” Despina looked toward the immensely pleased face of Salim Ali el-Sharif.
Salim took a deep breath, as though he needed time to consider how best to respond. “My nephew’s most prized bodyguard is exactly where he should be—in a place reserved for those who fail to hold their tongues on matters that are no longer their concern.”
“And what matters might those be?” Shahrzad asked in a furious whisper.
“Well, as my daughter’s husband, he should care more for his family rather than for yours, should he not?”
“Forgive me, Uncle Salim. I thought we were one and the same.”
A sharp pause. “No, Shahrzad al-Khayzuran. We are not.”
Jahandar gasped quietly beside his daughter.
Again, Shahrzad wrapped her fingers around the silken cushions at her sides. “So then, we have come to it. Enough with the pleasantries. What do you mean to do with me?”
Salim leaned forward, bracing his elbows along the table’s gilded edge. “What do you suppose I shall do?”
“That depends on what you expect Khalid to do,” Shahrzad bit out.
“I expect him to come for you.”
“And what do you think will happen when he does? Besides your utter annihilation.”
Yasmine finally met Shahrzad’s gaze. “Father—”
Salim did not even grace his daughter with a look. “I expect he will do what he’s been too cowardly to do for years—meet me in the desert with a proper army. And fight to see who deserves to rule these lands.”
Despite the fear that spiked within her—knowing Khalid still lacked a proper army—a scoff escaped Shahrzad’s lips, its sound dripping with derision. “Khalid has never been a coward a day in his life. No matter how much you howl into the wind, it will never bow to you. And you’re a fool if you think it will be that easy.”
At that, Jahandar’s body curved in on itself, as if preparing for the next blow.
Yasmine sucked in a breath, and Shahrzad could not help but glance her way. The Princess of Parthia aimed a look of warning at her.
Behind it Shahrzad saw a flash of sympathy.
“Easy?” Salim began, the word bursting from a caustic round of laughter. “Do you think this has been easy? Nothing about this has been easy. It has been years in the making. Years spent watching that sullen boy flout me at every turn. Years spent watching him deny my daughter!” A fist crashed beside his plate. “The only thing that saved him from being called bastard was his uncanny resemblance to his father.”
Though Shahrzad caught the second look of caution Yasmine threw her way, she ignored it. “That and the fact that you were afraid of him.”
Jahandar gripped her wrist beneath the table.
A rush of anger swelled across Salim’s face. “I have never been afraid of him.”
“You lie as your spiteful daughter lies.” Shahrzad smiled. “You’ve always been afraid of him.”
“Shahrzad!” Jahandar exclaimed, finally electing to speak out.
Only to side with Shahrzad’s enemy.
“Baba, say nothing more.”
“Daughter, you have defied me—”
At that, Shahrzad tore her arm from his grasp. “And you have brought me here against my will, to be used as a pawn by these despicable liars!”
“I thought to bring you here to negotiate a truce. To help ease these wounds!”
“To help whom?” Shahrzad accused. “For it seems as though the only person you sought to help was yourself!”
The color rose in Jahandar’s face, first in a flush of red. Then in a wash of white.
He looked away.
But he did not deny it.
“How does it feel, Shahrzad al-Khayzuran?” Despina said in a melodious voice. “To be treated as a slave? To be the servant of people who see themselves as above you, when you know in your heart that you are the same?”