The Rose & the Dagger (The Wrath and the Dawn #2) - Renee Ahdieh Page 0,43
heels.
When Shahrzad sat up, she glanced down at her stomach. An ugly red welt remained. But it was nothing like the burn she’d expected, the pain nothing worse than that of a few days in the hot sun.
It took her only a moment to realize what had happened.
For on Artan Temujin’s bare stomach, in the exact same spot, was a burn like hers.
Except his was far worse.
His was blistered. Sores formed along its length.
The sores she should have had.
Somehow, Artan had transferred the worst of her injury onto his skin.
“You—didn’t have to do that,” she sputtered, a salty lock of hair caught on her lips.
It was a ridiculous thing to say. An obvious thing to say. Yet she felt it should be said, nonetheless.
His mouth bent into a smile resembling a scythe. “You’re welcome.”
“Thank you,” Shahrzad replied, still at a loss.
After a beat of unsettling calm, a shudder racked through him, and Artan collapsed into the sand. “We always seem to do things hind over end, don’t we?”
“It appears so.”
His chest heaved from exertion. “This”—he motioned between their matching burns—“isn’t working.”
“No.” She leaned up on an elbow, her expression morose. “It’s not.”
“Such a pity.” Artan remained prostrate along the shore, lost in thought, regarding the night sky above. “My aunt will eat you alive.”
“Why—why do you think your aunt will eat me alive?” Shahrzad asked haltingly. “And if you know this, why did you agree to take me to her?”
What is the real reason you are helping me, Artan Temujin?
When Artan finally deigned to speak, his gaze remained fixed on the stars.
“Have you ever heard the story ‘The Girl Who Grasped the Moon’?”
“Of course. Every small child has heard it.”
“Tell it to me as you heard it.”
“To what purpose—”
“Humor me.” Artan pointed at his blistered stomach. “This once.”
Shahrzad’s brows pinched together. “Just this once.” She turned her gaze toward the sky. “There was a girl who lived in a stone tower, surrounded by white dragons that did her every bidding. When she desired a sticky pastry, she had but to ask. When she wished to sleep, they turned the sky to night with the beat of their wings. The sun to moon with a simple roar. Though the girl wanted for nothing, she continued to want—more and more of everything and anything. But more than anything, the girl wished to be powerful. To her, the dragons always possessed more power than any being in the world, because they were able to make her every wish come true.”
Artan heaved a breath, holding it for a spell. At this odd behavior, Shahrzad’s confusion swelled further, and she stopped speaking.
When Artan eyed her sidelong, Shahrzad continued. “One night, when one of her dragons brought her a thick gold necklace she’d requested from a distant land, the girl smelled the strange perfume adorning its silken wrappings and decided she could no longer live with wanting this power. She had to have it. The girl demanded the dragon take her to its magic’s source. The dragon turned to the full moon, its distress plain on its horned face. The girl did not care. She insisted the dragon take her to the moon so that she might harness its power. They flew toward it, a volley of stars collecting in their midst. The girl gathered the stars and from them fashioned a rope. Then—though the dragon roared a final warning—the girl threw a ring of stars around the moon, all while laughing like a bell tolling in the night.”
Shahrzad stopped to glance at Artan. “But, like so many things of power, the moon refused to be contained.”
At this, Artan smiled. But it was not a smile of amusement. It was a smile of something much darker and deeper.
“The moon began to glide through the sky. Torn from her dragon’s back, the girl clung to the rope of stars. She cried out, asking the moon to grant her wish or release her. Like a chilling breeze, the moon’s reply chased across her skin: ‘You wish to be powerful? Then I will make you into my shadow. A moon to command the lost stars. But know that such a thing will come at a cost.’ Without hesitating, the girl trilled with laughter. ‘I care not about cost. Take all my worldly possessions, for I have no need of them once I possess such power.’ The moon’s words wafted through the night air, colder than a first snow. ‘Very well, girl. I have long desired a true companion.’ Then,