down the grey wall, coating it in a shining viscous fluid.
Oil.
The serpent screamed once more and disappeared into the night sky.
With a click of his tongue, Khalid spurred Ardeshir from the shadows. His battle regalia was encrusted with silver and gold, and his rida’ billowed behind him. A full battalion of the Royal Guard marched at his back.
Several sentries on the battlements above shouted warnings. The soldiers there began scrambling once again.
A quarter league away, Tariq dipped an obsidian arrow in oil. Omar put a flame to it. Then the son of Nasir al-Ziyad fired it straight at the city gates.
When they caught flame, the ululations began anew.
Khalid watched the gates of Amardha burn from astride his black Arabian. Watched the dark wood glow in flashes of blue and white. Dancing flames of umber and orange.
Behind the walls, the city descended into pandemonium.
When Khalid heard the screams and the shouts and the sounds of rising panic, he glanced down at the waiting messenger beside him.
“Deliver the letter.”
The moon hung high in the sky when the Sultan of Parthia rode into Khalid’s camp. He dismounted before the largest tent in silence, the rage on his face as plain as day. Behind him rode Jahandar al-Khayzuran and the two most senior generals of the Parthian army.
As Salim stepped toward the canopy leading inside, the captain of the Royal Guard detained his party. And asked that they leave all weapons outside.
At this, Salim balked in open protest.
Jalal smiled at him with bladed serenity. “Feel free to return to your palace.” He offered him a flourishing bow. “In any case, we shall see you soon.”
With a disdainful sneer, the Sultan of Parthia threw down his sword and the curved dagger at his hip. His men followed suit before they were permitted to enter the Caliph of Khorasan’s tent.
Once they made their way inside, they found Khalid and his party waiting for them, seated at a long, low table. Lamps hung from iron posts at either end, and behind the table stood an intricately carved screen dividing the tent in two.
Khalid was positioned at the table’s center. To his left sat the Shahrban of Rey. Beside the shahrban was Tariq Imran al-Ziyad. At Tariq’s side sat Omar al-Sadiq. The captain of the guard took the space to Khalid’s right.
“Sit.” Khalid gestured to the silken cushions across from him.
Barely managing to conceal his scorn, Salim sank down, his generals at either side of him. Jahandar al-Khayzuran shuffled to a corner of the table, under the watchful gaze of Tariq.
Khalid regarded Salim in silence for a moment. “Now that I have your attention—”
“Where is my daughter, you bastard son of a whore?” Salim said.
“Daughter?” Khalid paused, his disdain all too evident. “You should at least have the decency to say daughters by now.”
At that, Salim’s jaw fell open for the briefest instant. Then his gaze narrowed with sudden wariness.
“For you do count Despina amongst your children,” Khalid continued, stone-faced. “Especially after all she’s done for you?”
The silence hung in the space like a specter. Jalal’s fists were balled tight, his body coiled as though he were ready to lunge at any moment.
Ready to render justice.
“I do.” Salim’s response was sharp.
“Good,” Khalid said. “At least you’ve done right by her in one matter.”
“Don’t pretend you care for Despina,” Salim replied. “Not after she lived as a slave in your palace all those years.” He shifted in his seat. “In any case, I knew you would not treat her poorly.” His smile was caustic. “After all, you reserve that behavior for your wives, not your servants.”
Though Jalal uttered an oath beneath his breath, Khalid did not react to the words. Nor did he bother to defend himself. “You do as you always have done—blame others for your transgressions. And in doing so, you reap the same reward—nothing.”
Salim snorted. “I did not come here to be lectured by a boy. Let us come to it—in your letter, you told me you had Yasmine.”
Khalid nodded, then leaned back, placing his hands on the table. He waited a moment. “Did you bring Shahrzad?”
Salim’s expression hardened. “I will give you what you love in exchange for what I love.”
Another pause. “Again, it is good to know you care for something. Besides yourself.”
“Don’t toy with me, you arrogant—”
“And don’t lie to me, you specious coward.” Khalid’s eyes burned bright.
“How dare you—”
“He does dare, Uncle Salim,” a voice echoed from behind the carved screens. “He dares quite often.”
At that, Khalid’s lips curved in a dark