The Rose & the Dagger (The Wrath and the Dawn #2) - Renee Ahdieh Page 0,12
hot flash. “No, I just—I need Tariq!” Her gaze darted every which way, frantic.
“Why?”
A rush of air flew from her lips. “Because I have to do—something.” She pushed past him. “You don’t understand. Shazi—”
He took her by the shoulders, his touch strangely soothing. Strengthening. “Tell me what you need.”
No. Neither of them was a leader. She’d always known Rahim to be a boy who followed. Just as she was a girl who ran. A girl who failed to do anything, save spare her own skin.
She should have grabbed Shahrzad’s dagger. Or done something.
The guilt clawed at her stomach. Irsa began to tremble, even beneath the sweltering sun. She felt Rahim’s grip tighten on her shoulders.
Offering more strength.
Irsa stood straight, clenching her fists.
Shazi would not give up. She would not give in to fear. Nor would she waver in the sand, like a ridiculous ninny. She would take action. Fight to the death. And be smart about it, as only Shahrzad could.
Though Irsa continued to shake, she kept her voice steady as she worked through the beginnings of a plan. “Did Tariq take his falcon with him?”
“No.” A flicker of puzzlement passed across Rahim’s face. “Zoraya scouted the terrain in advance this morning, so he left her behind to rest.”
“Rahim”—Irsa took a breath—“will you do something for me?”
He did not even bother to reply. He simply held out his hand.
And Irsa took it.
AN INDELIBLE LINE
SHAHRZAD REFUSED TO BE COWED BY THE GANGLY boy standing before her.
In another world—in another life—she might have pitied him.
But he’d threatened Irsa. An indelible line had been drawn.
And, despite his best efforts to conceal it, she could see his fingers shaking around her dagger.
Move slowly.
“What is your name?” she began in a quiet tone.
He sucked in a sharp breath. “I’ll be the one to ask the questions.”
She stood still as he paced around her in a circle.
His agitation was worsening.
“How?” With every erratic footfall, streams of light bounded across his face, casting his patchy beard in sinister shadow.
Shahrzad clasped her hands before her. “Pardon?”
“How did you survive?”
She chose her next words with care. “I told stories.”
He halted midstep. His disdain was clear before he even spoke.
“You told stories? You expect me to believe that monster kept you alive because you amused him?”
Shahrzad leveled a withering stare in his direction. “Believe what you choose to believe. But the proof stands before you, all the same.”
He made a sound of choked disbelief. She almost recoiled from its harshness. “Are you trying to provoke me? Are you truly that big a fool?”
For the second time, Shahrzad lifted her palms in a placating gesture. “I’m not trying to provoke you . . .” She waited patiently, hoping the boy would take the bait.
“Teymur. My name is Teymur.”
“Teymur.” Shahrzad curved her lips into a careful smile. “I’m not trying to provoke you,” she repeated. “I’m trying to understand you.”
A poor choice of words. Shahrzad realized it as soon as they passed into comprehension.
“Understand me?” Teymur snarled. “You couldn’t possibly understand me!”
“Please just tell me—”
He charged at her. Long fingers closed around her throat like a cuff. Shahrzad wrapped both hands around his wrist, trying to stay his grip. She stared back into his flame-filled eyes, determined not to flinch.
She was not afraid. This boy—this skinny man-child—was far more afraid than she would ever be. The sweat fell in steady trickles down either side of his face.
“How could you possibly understand?” He was shaking so hard it made his voice quake. “You’re alive. The monster let you live!”
With his other hand, he placed the tip of her dagger beside her chin. The blade was still ensconced in its jeweled sheath.
“Where did you get this?” Teymur examined the delicate etchings carved into the scabbard. He ran his thumb along the seed pearls and the tiny garnets embedded in the hilt. The emeralds at its base flashed with an evil light.
“Teymur—”
“Is it his?” His gaze moved from the dagger back to Shahrzad. “Did he give it to you?”
She said nothing.
“Answer me.” He shook her by the throat. “You promised me answers!”
“Yes. He gave it to me.”
“And if I kill you with it?” His voice drained to a whisper. “Like he killed my Roya.”
Shahrzad swallowed thickly. She knew that name.
One of so many. One in a sea of scattered letters.
In a storm of remembrances.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t you dare apologize!” The tips of his fingers pushed into her skin.
His pain radiated through Shahrzad, from his hand to her heart, touching an old wound that would never