The Rose & the Dagger (The Wrath and the Dawn #2) - Renee Ahdieh Page 0,117
As will the others aligned with him. There is much to be discussed.” He exchanged a knowing glance with Shahrzad. A glance she was glad to share. Glad to understand. Finally.
“What is it you want, Khalid Ibn al-Rashid?” Salim demanded. “My death?”
Khalid let his eyes linger on the Sultan of Parthia in pointed consideration. “I should kill you for all you have done. For all the pain and death and destruction you have brought on those dearest to me.”
“You do not have the courage.” Though Salim said the words in sharp retort, Shahrzad could sense a trace of fear beneath them.
“It does not take courage to kill. It takes courage to live.”
“Then what do you want of me?”
“I want you to abdicate your throne,” Khalid replied. “I will give you a home outside Rey in which you will reside, with guards to stand watch at all times. Guards I will appoint.”
Rage contorted Salim’s features once more. “And I suppose you will become ruler of Parthia? Ruler of all my family has held for over five generations?”
“I told you before. I have no interest in taking control of your kingdom.”
“Then who is to rule?”
Khalid looked to Shahrzad. She glanced back at him, relishing how he gave her leave to divulge the best secret of all. The agreement they’d come to last night. Together.
Shahrzad held Khalid’s gaze. “I think Yasmine el-Sharif would make an excellent Sultana of Parthia, my king.”
“As do I, my queen.”
Jahandar sat at his corner of the table in the caliph’s tent and watched his world unravel like a skein of silk.
He had chosen wrong. He had thought Reza bin-Latief would be the one to help him find a way back into the book’s graces. Back into power. Back into influence.
He’d thought the Sultan of Parthia would help him find a way.
Jahandar had been horribly, horribly wrong.
He had not realized how much enmity existed between Shahrzad and Salim Ali el-Sharif. He’d foolishly thought Shahrzad would help to win the sultan over to his cause. After all, his daughter was married to the sultan’s nephew. Though Jahandar knew the sultan intended to dethrone the caliph, Salim had assured him no harm would come to Shahrzad. It was why Jahandar had been so willing to go along with Reza’s plan to steal away Shahrzad to Amardha.
But everything had fallen apart that awful night at dinner.
Jahandar had realized then that the boy-king—the Caliph of Khorasan—had already won this war. Had already grasped the power Jahandar needed to succeed. For the caliph had already taken control of everything Jahandar held dear.
When Jahandar had tried to find Irsa in the desert, he’d been unable to do so. Now he’d learned from the captain of the guard that she was amongst the caliph’s soldiers. Safely ensconced in his camp. Beyond Jahandar’s reach.
When Jahandar had tried to enlist Shahrzad’s help in retrieving his book, it had been clear she’d already agreed to work alongside the caliph to take it from him. The caliph who’d stolen the book from Jahandar while he slept.
The caliph who’d used Jahandar’s own children against him.
Where was his book?
He’d lost his wife. He’d lost his standing in Rey.
Now he’d lost his daughters.
Irsa was nowhere to be found. Shahrzad would not even look at him. She had not gazed his way even once.
His elder daughter had eyes only for the boy-king.
When everyone stood from the table to leave, Jahandar rose to his feet as well. He watched the caliph’s guards follow the sultan and his generals from the tent. Then all who remained began to move about, disregarding Jahandar’s presence.
Just as before. Just as always.
Then, as Shahrzad and the caliph drew near, Jahandar leapt at the chance to speak. Leapt at the chance to act. And be noticed.
“Where,” he began, his voice wavering, “where is the book?”
“Is that truly all you care about, Baba?” Shahrzad asked softly.
“N-no.”
Her face pulled tight. “Why have you not asked after Irsa?”
“Does Irsa have need of me?”
Shahrzad glanced away. But not before Jahandar saw the expression of pain on her face. The caliph stepped closer. He regarded Jahandar through steady, piercing eyes. The look all but shriveled him.
Jahandar resented it. For though this boy was his king, he was still a boy.
A boy who had taken so much from him. Had taken everything from him.
“Your book is no more,” the caliph said in a cold tone.
“What?” Jahandar whispered.
“It is gone. Destroyed.”
The very air around Jahandar stilled. Turned hot. “How?”