The Rose & the Dagger (The Wrath and the Dawn #2) - Renee Ahdieh Page 0,89

please put down the weapon. There is no cause to be afraid!” He smiled again, even brighter. “The guards outside told me you’d tried the door not long ago, so I came straightaway.”

“Where are we?” Shahrzad demanded again.

“I know you must be afraid, but he does not wish you any harm. No one does. Indeed, you will be safer here than you were in the encampment. And much better cared for. As befitting your status.” His shoulders rolled back at the last, filled with a peculiar sort of pride. A pride that did not fit her situation at all.

“Baba!” she admonished, her frustration clear, for he had yet to answer the question she’d now twice posed.

His smile faltered. But only slightly. “Reza thought it best you be brought to Amardha.”

As she’d suspected. Nevertheless, Shahrzad’s heart lurched. For a moment, she could scarcely breathe. “You brought me to Salim Ali el-Sharif?”

“Of course!” Jahandar did not even flinch at her dangerous tone. “He is your husband’s uncle, is he not?” He spoke simply, though his expression indicated much more knowledge.

“How could you do this to me?” she whispered.

At her quiet accusation, her father’s watery eyes wavered, then stiffened at the edges. In that instant, Shahrzad realized he would not be moved by her pleas.

Not this time.

He pulled straight. “Perhaps it is I who should be asking you this question, daughter.”

Immediately, Shahrzad recoiled from both his charge and the cold light that had entered his eyes. Eyes that had always been a warm mirror to her own.

“What have you done with my book?” her father asked in a mincing tone.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She lifted her chin, trying to conceal her apprehension.

“Shahrzad. I’ve already spoken to Irsa. I know it was she who drugged me.”

Shahrzad remained stone-faced, though her heart missed a beat at the mention of her sister.

“She refused to say anything further on the matter, but you know as well as I that Irsa is incapable of uttering a falsehood. And her attempts to avoid disclosing the truth belied her actions.” His face screwed tight in frustration. “Therefore I must insist that you—” Though it took effort, her father managed to temper his reaction. “I am not angry, dearest. I know someone must have coerced you. Perhaps the caliph or someone with the desire to undermine—”

“No. No one coerced me to do anything. Because nothing has been done.”

Again, a flash of cold light filled her father’s gaze. “Do not lie to me, daughter.”

Shahrzad steeled herself even further. “Where is Irsa, Baba?”

No response, save for a soft inhalation of breath. The barest of hesitations.

“Baba?”

He opened his mouth to answer, then paused a telling beat. A beat that made Shahrzad’s throat swell tight with trepidation. Her father offered a kind grin. “You are still weak from the journey and your injuries. Allow the sultan’s servants to tend to you, after which you should join us for dinner. The sultan’s daughter has been quite worried about you. I promise all will be discussed tonight.”

Shahrzad reached for him, unable to conceal her fear any longer. “Baba, please don’t—”

“I have allowed you a great deal of freedom, daughter. Perhaps I have allowed you too much.” Her father’s tone was firm. He stood quite tall. Taller than Shahrzad ever remembered him standing. Indeed, she had not seen him act with such vim since before her mother had died. “You have defied me long enough, Shahrzad. I will not allow you to lie to me about this. You are toying with something far too dangerous and far too important. Rest for now. And we will discuss the matter later.” Jahandar turned away.

“Please just tell me if Irsa is—”

“Rest. And we will discuss the matter tonight . . . when you are ready to tell me the truth.” With that, Jahandar al-Khayzuran strode from the chamber in a whirl of fine silk.

Shahrzad sank back beside the shards of broken porcelain, still clutching her makeshift weapon.

The panic she’d been fighting since she’d first caught sight of her father—no, since the first inkling of where she was had begun to take root—washed over her with a dire sort of urgency.

The war she’d meant to end had now slipped beyond her control. Far beyond the boundaries of her worst fears come to pass.

For as soon as word reached Rey that Shahrzad was being held prisoner in Amardha—was now a “guest” of the uncle who most assuredly planned to use her as a pawn—Khalid would march on the city with