The Wrath and the Dawn(9)
THE MOUNTAIN OF ADAMANT
THE INSTANT SHAHRZAD BROUGHT HER PALM TO HIS, she felt a cool wash of dispassion take over. As though she had floated beyond her person and was now a mere witness to everything around her.
Thankfully, he did not try to kiss her.
Nor did the pain last; it was but a fleeting moment, lost in the welcome distraction of her thoughts. He did not appear to enjoy himself, either. Whatever pleasure he derived was brief and perfunctory, and Shahrzad felt a stab of satisfaction at this realization.
When it was done, he rose from the bed without a word and pushed aside the whisper-silk enclosing the platform.
She watched him dress with neat, almost militaristic precision, noting the light sheen of sweat on his back and the lean muscles that coiled and flexed with the slightest of movements.
He was stronger than she was. Of that, there was no doubt. She could not best him physically.
But I’m not here to fight. I’m here to win.
She sat up and reached for the beautiful shamla draped on a stool nearby. Shahrzad slid her arms into the lustrous brocade and tied the silver laces before moving to join him. As she rounded the edge of the bed, the robe’s delicately embroidered hem twirled about her like a dervish in the midst of sama.
The caliph strode to the low table in the corner of the chamber, surrounded by even more sumptuous cushions and plump pillows covered in an array of jewel tones.
He poured himself some wine, still standing in silence. Shahrzad stepped past him and sank onto the cushions encircling the table.
The tray was laden with pistachios, figs, almonds, grapes, quince chutney, small cucumbers, and an assortment of fresh herbs. A basket of flatbread lay wrapped in linen off to the side.
Taking pains to return his subtle disregard, Shahrzad plucked a grape from the tray and began to eat.
The caliph studied her for a torturous instant before lowering to the cushions. He sat and drank while Shahrzad dipped pieces of bread into the tartly sweet chutney.
When she could stomach the quiet no longer, she lifted a slender brow at him. “Aren’t you going to eat, sayyidi?”
He inhaled through his nose, the corners of his eyes tightening in thought.
“The chutney is delicious,” she remarked in an offhand manner.
“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.”
He angled his head, a muscle ticking along his jaw. “What do you want?” Again, the words were so soft, Shahrzad strained to make them out.
She dusted the crumbs off her hands, biding time to construct the next trap.
“I’m to die at sunrise. Correct?”
He nodded once.
“And you wish to know why I volunteered for this?” she continued. “Well, I’d be willing to—”
“No. I won’t play games with you. I despise manipulation.”
Shahrzad snapped her lips shut, swallowing her nerve-riddled fury. “Perhaps you should spend less time despising the game and more time building the patience necessary to win.”
She held her breath as his upper body froze. The knuckles in his hands stretched white for a harrowing instant before he released his grip.
Shahrzad watched the tension leave him, a swirl of emotions colliding in her chest, wreaking havoc on her mind.
“Brave words for a girl with hours left to live.” His tone was edged in ice.
She sat up straight and twisted her fall of dark hair so that it hung over one shoulder. “Are you interested in the rules of the game or not, sayyidi?”
At his silence, she chose to barrel ahead, concealing her trembling hands in the folds of her shamla. “I’m willing to answer your question, sayyidi. But before I do so, I wonder if you would be willing to grant me a small request . . .” She trailed off.
A hint of callous amusement darkened his countenance. “Are you trying to barter for your life with trivia?”
She laughed, the sound dancing around the room with the airy quality of chimes. “My life is forfeit. You’ve made that clear. Perhaps we should move past that issue and get to the matter at hand.”