words grounded in their surety.
Shahrzad chewed the inside of her cheek, still unwilling to relent, but warming to the idea.
It does make sense. And it would be nice to work together, for a change.
“Don’t worry, Shazi.” Irsa grinned good-naturedly. “I am merely waiting for Baba to fall asleep, then delivering a book to you. There’s no danger in this.”
Despite her wiser inclinations, Shahrzad smiled back.
Perhaps her sister was right.
They were taking charge of their destinies. Refusing to allow fate to dictate their futures. Perhaps the reason Shahrzad had been struggling so much of late was because she’d been fighting against a raging current. Perhaps she should swim alongside it, for a change.
“All right,” Shahrzad agreed. “Let’s do it.”
“Together.” Irsa smiled wider.
Shahrzad nodded. “Together.”
Tariq wasn’t sure what could have possessed him to follow Irsa al-Khayzuran tonight.
Of all the things he should have been doing, he should not have been secretly following Irsa. He should have been planning their next raid. Or at least forming the beginnings of a strategy with his uncle, despite his growing unease as to Reza bin-Latief’s objective.
Instead here he was with Rahim, trudging through the desert on horseback . . .
Trying to keep silent.
Indeed, they were fortunate Irsa was such a poor sneak. As well as a decidedly poor lookout. For any soldier worth his salt would have noticed them trailing at a distance.
Would have forgone this ridiculousness long ago.
But Tariq had been worried about Shahrzad for some time. These past few days, he’d tried to keep tabs on her whereabouts. Earlier this evening, Tariq had seen her steal into the desert, carrying a rolled bundle. Before he’d been able to break away from his soldiers and follow her, Shahrzad had disappeared without a trace.
Now Tariq was forced to do the next best thing and follow Irsa. For if anyone knew what Shahrzad was up to with this strange disappearance, it would be her younger sister.
Tariq was more than willing to resort to subterfuge if it meant learning the explanation behind Shahrzad’s recent behavior. More than willing to steal into the desert, in pursuit of a hooded figure beneath a moonlit sky.
And Rahim?
It was becoming abundantly clear Rahim would follow Irsa al-Khayzuran anywhere.
All Irsa had in her possession was a tiny parcel wrapped in a length of dark linen, pressed against her chest. She was not dressed for traveling. The light shahmina about her shoulders would not protect her from much.
Tariq found this strange because Irsa al-Khayzuran was usually quite sensible. Usually not a cause for concern. She never had been. Was not the type ever to be.
She was predictable. Pleasant. Agreeable.
Everything Shahrzad was not.
All the same, Tariq kept his recurve bow at the ready.
For whatever might lurk ahead.
After half an hour of riding, they neared the well and the abandoned settlement where Tariq had first met Omar al-Sadiq several months ago. He briefly recalled the way the elderly sheikh had shrunk back from Zoraya’s flashing talons. For once, Tariq was glad to have left the falcon behind, as she would have undoubtedly given away their presence by now.
Rahim and Tariq dismounted from their horses, concealing themselves behind one of the cracked stone buildings. They lingered in a pool of shadow while Irsa tied her steed to a post near the well.
Despite all, Tariq had to admit he was somewhat curious.
Who was little Cricket meeting?
For Tariq could see no trace of Shahrzad anywhere nearby.
Rahim inhaled through his nose. Even from an arm’s length away, Tariq could sense his friend’s budding apprehension as though it were his own.
“Why are you so concerned?” Tariq whispered.
Rahim eyed the slender figure of Irsa al-Khayzuran in the distance.
Tariq smothered a smirk. “She’s not in any danger. Obviously she’s meeting someone she knows. Are you worried it might be another boy?”
“Why would I care if she were meeting another boy?” Rahim shot back. “I only want to make sure she’s not in danger.”
“Of course you wouldn’t care if it was another boy.” Tariq rolled his eyes. “That’s why you’re following her in the middle of the night, like a cuckolded husband.”
A sound of exasperation rolled from Rahim’s throat. “We both know why we’re here, and it has nothing to do with—”
Tariq cut him off with a hand to his shoulder.
Two figures were approaching Irsa. One was easily recognizable. Tariq would know its shape anywhere. He’d spent the better part of his life memorizing its lines. Small and slight. With a messy braid, recently tousled by strong winds.
The other was tall. Hooded. Male.
Less easily