The Rose & the Dagger (The Wrath and the Dawn #2) - Renee Ahdieh Page 0,47

city gates, a current of air buoyed the carpet, taking her past the torchlit battlements, beyond the sights of any wandering sentries.

The slumbering city was as she remembered it . . .

Yet not.

Sections of Khorasan’s crown jewel looked as though a giant fist had smashed down upon its surface. Others were scorched beyond recognition. For a few breaths, a feeling of despondency slid its hold around Shahrzad’s heart.

Then, as she directed the carpet lower, she saw signs of hope.

The light color of newly hewn granite against old. The smell of sap from freshly milled wood. The piles of organized debris. The stink of burning refuse.

Around her was a city all but forsworn.

Half in ruin.

Yet half reborn.

Her heart swelled, shaking off despondency’s grip. The people of Rey had not tucked tail and run.

Nor had Khalid.

Shahrzad sent the carpet higher. Toward a broken palace of granite and marble glistening in the first flush of a summer’s rain.

Toward the broken palace she called home.

A trill of apprehension snaked through her, igniting a flurry of questions.

Khalid is just as stubborn as I am. What if he refuses to trust Artan, or Artan’s family?

What if he rejects their offer of help? What if he’s resigned to living out his days with this curse?

Then the most selfish question of all—the one she’d refused to allow herself to consider—began echoing through her mind:

What if he’s furious with me for leaving Rey?

For leaving him without a word.

The fat droplets grew long and lean as they started to multiply. Without warning, the clouds burst, showering a sweet silver rain upon the city. A hazy mist formed above the earth as the water sizzled onto the stone and soaked through the parched soil.

Shahrzad landed on the balcony outside Khalid’s antechamber.

She waited in silence for a time, her pulse drumming in her ears. Her emotions ran a wild gamut, and she trembled, despite the warm summer breeze.

He was so close. Almost within reach.

But Shahrzad couldn’t bring herself to slide open the carved screens in front of her.

She’d left him. Even if she’d done it to protect him—to protect the love they shared—she’d left him alone. And she’d made the decision to do so without him.

Khalid had not run from his obligations. That much had been quite evident to her, as she’d flown over Rey. She’d seen his mind for organization—his quiet intelligence—in every aspect of the restoration. In the logical engineering. In the careful attention to detail.

He was everywhere. Even if no one else saw this simple truth, Shahrzad did.

She was the one who’d left behind a burning disaster, without so much as a glance back. Left the boy she loved to manage an insurmountable task without her.

Would he look at her with eyes of betrayal? Eyes of judgment?

Or would they be the same eyes as always?

Eyes that had been for her and no other.

She was soaked to the bone now. The sweet-smelling rain had drenched her hair and was dripping from its ends. Her qamis clung to her body, and her deep blue tikka sash trailed against the onyx stone beside her sandaled feet.

How much time had she wasted being afraid on the balcony?

Enough.

Squaring her shoulders, Shahrzad started for the screens—

And they slid open.

She halted in her tracks, refusing to look up.

Shahrzad knew it was Khalid. She sensed rather than saw him.

As always. As ever. As a rose to the sun.

Her knees shook. A chill ran from the nape of her neck to the soles of her feet.

“Shahrzad?”

Low and unassuming. Unmistakable. When Shahrzad met his gaze, everything around her melted away. Even the driving rain came to a sudden standstill.

A moment suspended in time. A pair of amber eyes across a balcony.

And there was no more fear. No more worry. No more judgment.

Her knees no longer shook. Her heart steadied in her chest.

In that moment of perfect balance, she understood. This peace? These worries silenced without effort?

It was because they were two parts of a whole. He did not belong to her. And she did not belong to him. It was never about belonging to someone.

It was about belonging together.

Shahrzad walked toward him, her head high.

Khalid did not blink.

“Shazi.”

“Yes,” she replied, her voice clear and strong. Just as she felt.

His eyes narrowed infinitesimally. As though guarded in their disbelief. As though undeserving of their truth. The gesture was so achingly familiar that Shahrzad wanted to launch herself into his arms.

But she was soaked, and Khalid looked as pristine as always. His black hair was faultless. The sharp planes of his