The Rose & the Dagger (The Wrath and the Dawn #2) - Renee Ahdieh Page 0,61

could have told you these things within a moment of meeting your king. He hates smiling and never laughs. It’s not a stretch to assume he lacks friends.”

“Why have you brought them to me?” Isuke demanded. “Are they an offering?”

At that, Shahrzad placed a hand on her dagger, readying to bolt, while Khalid unsheathed his shamshir without hesitation.

Artan sighed loudly.

“Don’t bother, boy,” Isuke said to Khalid, her tone imbued with sinewy softness. “If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead already. You came in the company of my nephew. That alone makes you worthy of interest. But the girl has a mystic’s blood in her veins, and you have a black cloud around your soul. I would hear you out before I make a decision as to what to do about you.”

When Khalid still did not lower his sword, Artan turned to look him in the eye. “I promise no harm will come to Shahrzad while we’re here.” Solemnity hardened his expression. “On my father’s grave, I swear it.”

Isuke’s shoulders stiffened.

Artan’s promise had offended her. Or intrigued her. Shahrzad could not be certain. But neither possibility gave her much reassurance.

Yet it appeared Khalid was not of the same mind. He returned Artan’s unflinching stare for a time, and—just when Shahrzad had decided the situation had taken a turn for the worse—Khalid relaxed. The muscles along his jaw ceased to ripple.

His sword fell to his side.

“Why have you brought them, son of Tolu?” Isuke’s voice had gone even softer. Dangerously so. The flint in her eyes darkened to obsidian. “And why are you making such promises on their behalf?”

“The boy is cursed, Aunt Isuke. They want your help to rid him of it, as well as to find a means to restore her father’s health.” Artan paused. “I would consider it a favor to me if you would hear them out.”

“A favor?”

“Yes.”

“They are that important to you?” Isuke glanced back at Shahrzad with renewed interest.

“I told you: they are my friends.” Artan hesitated for the barest of instants. “And they may possess . . . knowledge of my parents’ misdeeds.”

Though it was carefully worded on Artan’s part, Shahrzad started at this revelation. Khalid eyed Artan, his expression darkening.

A strange flash of emotion passed across Isuke’s face. It was gone before Shahrzad could place it. “Very well. As a favor to you, I will hear them out.” Her features hardened. “But I expect the same courtesy when I make a request of you in the future.”

Artan gave her a curt bow in response. Then Shahrzad took a position on the woven rushes opposite Isuke, with Artan kneeling to her left. She glanced up at Khalid expectantly, and he finally sat beside her, his shamshir close.

The sorceress listened as Shahrzad relayed the sad tale of Ava and Khalid. Of their arranged marriage and the heartbreaking loss of their child. Of Ava’s desolation and eventual death. Of Ava’s father luring Khalid to his home, where he took his own life in exchange for the dark magic to enact the curse upon Khalid.

When Shahrzad finished, she turned to Khalid. In a terse voice, he recited the curse’s terms, sharing how he had begun to fulfill it, but could no longer be subjugated to the whims of a vengeful madman.

The entire time, the sorceress’s only reaction was the same birdlike tilt of her head. When they were done, she removed a sheaf of papers from her desk with calculating slowness.

“A curse is payment for a debt owed—a deal made, however unfairly,” Isuke began. “In this case, a man’s life was given as payment for its magic. If the magic is to be rendered powerless, an offering of equal weight must be made.”

“Then . . . I must die.” Khalid spoke as though he were resigned.

As though he had expected it.

Every muscle in Shahrzad’s body pulled tight. A litany of protests formed in her throat.

Isuke’s mouth curved downward in what she must have considered a smile. “No. I did not say that. If it were that simple—a life for a life—this curse would have ended many dawns ago. Curses are rarely that simple.” She placed an oval mirror the size of two hands on the table. Then she laid both palms beside it.

The mirror seemed to rise of its own volition. It turned to reflect Shahrzad and Khalid before it began to spin very slowly, as though it were hanging from the ceiling on an invisible string.

“I am saying,” Isuke continued, “that magic mirrors itself, both