Renee Ahdieh

“You have a beautiful laugh. Like the promise of tomorrow

When he yanked her down a small side alleyway, she pulled him back.
“Do you even know where you’re going?” she demanded.
“For once in your life, stop talking and listen.”
“How dare—”
He wrapped his right arm around her and pressed their bodies together in between a shadowed alcove. Then he shoved his index finger onto her lips.
Shahrzad listened as their pursuers ran past the alleyway, still shouting and carrying on in a drunken haze. When the sounds faded away, he removed his finger from her lips.
But it was too late.
Because Shahrzad could feel his heart beating faster.
Just like hers.

You were saying?” He was so close, his words were more breath than sound.
“How—how dare you say that to me?” she whispered.
His eyes glittered with something akin to amusement.
“How dare I imply you caused this mess?”
“Me? This is not my fault! This is your fault!”
“Mine?”
“You and your temper, Khalid!”
“No. You and your mouth, Shazi.”
“Wrong, you wretched lout!”
“See? That mouth.” He reached up and grazed his thumb across her lips. “That—magnificent mouth.”
Her traitor heart thudded against his, and when she peered up at him through her eyelashes, his hand at the small of her back pulled her impossibly closer.

I once had a thousand desires,

But in my one desire to know you,

all else melted away.

“Why did you volunteer, Shahrzad al-Khayzuran?”

She did not answer.

He continued. “What compelled you to do something so foolish?”

“Excuse me?”

“Perhaps it was the lure of marrying a king. Or the vain hope you might be the one to stay the course and win the heart of a monster.” He spoke without emotion, watching her intently.

Shahrzad’s pulse jumped to a martial beat. “I don’t suffer those delusions, sayyidi.”

“Then why did you volunteer? Why are you willing to throw away your life at seventeen?”

“I’m sixteen.” She cut her eyes. “And I don’t see why it matters.”

“Answer me.”

“No.”

He paused. “You realize you could die for that.”

The grip of her fingers tightened almost painfully. “I’m not surprised to hear that, sayyidi. But, if you truly want answers, killing me won’t help in the endeavor.”

In response, Shahrzad reached up and began to unfasten the bejeweled necklace still hanging about her throat.

“No.” He caught her hand. “Leave it.”

He hesitated before shifting his fingers to the nape of her neck.

At this disturbingly familiar touch, Shahrzad fought the urge to pull back in disgust and strike out at him with all the pain and rage she possessed.

Don’t be foolish. There will only be one chance. Don’t waste it.

This boy-king, this murderer . . . she would not permit him to destroy another family. To rob another girl of her best friend—of a lifetime filled with memories that had been and never would be.

She raised her chin and swallowed the rising bile, the bitter taste remaining on her tongue.

“Why are you here?” he whispered, his tiger-eyes ever searching.

A corner of her mouth rose in sardonic reply.

She brought her palm to his hand.

Carefully.

Then she lifted the heavy mantle from her shoulders and let it slide to the floor.

“Did we come all the way here for a book, Baba?”

“Just one, my child. Just one.”

“It must be a special book.”

“All books are special, dear.”

“Aren’t you scared, Shahrzad?” he asked, so quietly she almost missed it.

She put down the bread. “Do you want me to be scared, sayyidi?”

“No. I want you to be honest.”

Shahrzad smiled. “But how would you know if I were lying, sayyidi?”

“Because you are not a gifted liar. You only think yourself to be.” He leaned forward and took a handful of almonds from the tray.

Her smile widened. Dangerously. “And you are not that good at reading people. You only think yourself to be.”

“The first few days on board the ship were difficult for Agib. He was not a seafaring man and had very little experience traveling in this manner; consequently, he was sick for long stretches of time. The other crewmembers mocked him openly and gave him the most menial tasks to accomplish, solidifying his status as all but useless. The respect Agib had amassed as the best thief in Baghdad was meaningless in this world;

“Would you like to eat something? Or do you plan to go on a hunger strike? If that’s the case, do your worst, for I believe a hunger strike will kill a pretty little imp like you long before our caliph does.”

Shahrzad laughed wryly. “That’s the best worst compliment anyone has ever paid me.”