around her waist. “Are you not stealing the words customarily reserved for a man?”
“You’re welcome to say other, less customary things.” Though her tone was airy, her pulse stuttered.
“Such as?”
“You’re a smart man. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
“I already have.” The touch of Khalid’s lips trailing below her ear sent a swirl of desire through her.
It’s a shame we’re otherwise occupied at the moment.
Or else she would definitely act upon it.
They traveled over a stretch of desert near an expanse of mountains. Above them, a few lonely stars flickered, stitched across a dark fabric of night. Khalid soon grew accustomed to the rush of wind against his face, the tense set of his shoulders slackening. After a time, the air began to thicken with the scent of salt, and the sea glimmered along the horizon.
The carpet slowed as they neared the promontory before landing by the pool of water set against the cliff. Shahrzad secured the magic carpet to her back while Khalid unsheathed his shamshir, his movements like that of a prowling jungle cat.
Though she’d behaved in the same manner only a few nights ago, Shahrzad rolled her eyes. “That’s unnecessary. Not to mention insulting.”
“Forgive me for not feeling welcome wherever I go,” he muttered. “And for not taking any chances.”
With a shake of her head, Shahrzad reached for his free hand, threading her fingers through his.
“Shahrzad-jan?” Musa emerged from between the strange statues at the opposite side of the pool.
Again, Khalid did not miss a beat. Though he recognized the magus, he tugged Shahrzad closer and raised his shamshir.
Musa smiled at Khalid, his teeth like pearls set against ebony. “I did not think you would come.”
It took Khalid a moment to reply. “My wife can be very persuasive.” His sword remained vigilant.
The magus’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “It is good to see you. It has been so long.”
Khalid said nothing.
Musa strode closer. He appeared to be studying Khalid. Perhaps trying to see traces of the boy he’d known in the young man before him. “You look—”
“Like my father,” Khalid finished in a clipped tone. “Many have told me.”
“You do. But I see your mother in you. Most especially in your eyes.”
“You have no cause to flatter me. Lies do not become you.”
“I am not lying.” Musa rounded the pool. “Your eyes may be the same color as your father’s, but I can tell they see the world as Leila did. They see all. Your father”—he failed to forestall a grimace—“saw very little.”
Khalid’s eyes narrowed to slits. “My father saw enough.”
The meaning behind his rejoinder was evident.
A father who saw enough to destroy a small boy’s world.
“No.” Musa stopped before them, his colorful cloak swaying above the tan stone. “He saw what he wished to see. And he never gave anyone the chance to show him otherwise.”
There was obvious meaning to the magus’s words as well.
“I did not come here to be lectured by my mother’s tutor,” Khalid countered. “Nor did I come here to grant you the chance to win me over, Musa Zaragoza.”
Musa nodded. “I did not expect to win you over in a night. But—”
“Do not expect to win me over,” Khalid said coldly. “Ever.”
“Khalid-jan,” Shahrzad whispered. She tugged on his hand in silent censure.
Though he did not appear the least bit remorseful, Khalid squeezed her palm in acknowledgment.
Musa’s smile turned wistful. “I am so very sorry, little pahlang. For everything.”
Shahrzad felt Khalid’s body go rigid beside her.
Little pahlang. Little tiger.
“You do not have permission to call me that.” Khalid’s features were drawn and tight. “I am the Caliph of Khorasan to you. Nothing more.”
In that moment, everything about Khalid hearkened back to a time when Shahrzad had lived in fear of the dawn. When all she knew of him was a boy of ice and stone, who murdered his brides without cause or apology.
A time when all she had were stories fueled by hatred.
It pained her to see Khalid returning to this. A shell of what he was.
A shadow of what he could be.
Musa bowed, his fingers to his forehead. “A thousand apologies, sayyidi.”
Glaring at Khalid, Shahrzad shook off his grasp. “Musa-effendi, please do not—”
“I am not offended, my dearest star,” Musa replied. “I know why the young caliph despises me so. I did nothing when he begged for help. It has haunted me for many years.”
“There was nothing you could have done,” Shahrzad cried. “Had you tried to help, you likely would have been killed as well!”
“No.” Musa canted his mouth to