Shahrzad chewed at the inside of her cheek. “I—”
“Don’t trouble yourself, Shazi. We’re beyond such things.” Tariq knocked the cowl of his rida’ back and ducked through the entrance of the tent, sparing himself more of her company. The boy with the ice-cold eyes glowered at Shahrzad before following suit. Rahim paused beside her, his expression grim, as though he had expected better. Then he stepped closer to Irsa, his head tilted in question. Her sister sent half a smile his way. Sighing softly, Rahim trudged past them into the tent, without a single word.
Irsa elbowed Shahrzad in the ribs. “What’s wrong with you?” she admonished in a whisper. “We’re guests here. You can’t behave in such a manner.”
Chastened, Shahrzad nodded curtly before striding through the cavernous hollow.
It took her eyes time to adjust to the sudden darkness. A series of brass lamps hung at lazy intervals from the wooden rafters above, their thready light pale after the desert sun. At the far end of the tent was a long, low table, crafted of roughhewn teakwood. Worn woolen cushions were thrown about in haphazard piles. Screaming children scurried past Shahrzad, blind to all but their single-minded quest for the most esteemed position at the breakfast table.
Seated at the very center of this teeth-rattling tumult was an old man with a keen pair of eyes and an unkempt beard. When he saw Shahrzad, he smiled at her with a surprising amount of warmth. To his left was a woman of similar age with a long braid of muted copper. At his right sat Shiva’s father, Reza bin-Latief. Shahrzad’s stomach tensed, her flash of guilt resurfacing. She’d seen him last night, but in the clamor of their arrival the exchange had been brief, and she was not yet certain she was ready to face Shiva’s father.
So soon after failing to exact revenge for the murder of his daughter.
So soon after falling in love with the very boy who had murdered her.
Deciding it was best to avoid unwanted attention, Shahrzad kept her head down and took the cushion beside Irsa, across from Tariq and Rahim.
She avoided the gazes of those around her, especially that of the boy with the ice-fire eyes, who took every opportunity to burn through her with the heat of his discomfiting stare. The desire to draw attention to his behavior was always at the forefront of her mind, but Irsa’s earlier admonition continued to ring true: she was a guest here.
And she could not behave in such a reckless manner.
Not with the welfare of her family at stake.
A leg of roasted lamb was placed at the center of the well-worn table. Its serving platter was an immense affair of hammered silver, dented on all sides from age and use. Thick slices of barbari bread, coated with butter and rolled in black sesame seeds, were left in baskets nearby, alongside chipped bowls of whole radishes and slabs of salted goat cheese. Squabbling children reached for the radishes and tore hearty chunks of barbari in half before grabbing at the meat with their bare hands. Their elders crushed stems of fresh mint before pouring dark streams of tea over the fragrant leaves.
When Shahrzad chanced to look up, she found the old man with the keen eyes studying her, another warm smile pooling across his lips. The gap between his two front teeth was pronounced, and, at first glance, it made him appear almost foolish.
Though Shahrzad was not the least bit fooled.
“So, my friend . . . this is Shahrzad,” the old man said.
To whom is he speaking?
“I was right—” The old man cackled. “She is very beautiful.”
Shahrzad’s eyes flitted down both sides of the table. They stopped on Tariq.
His broad shoulders were rigid; his chiseled jaw was tight. He exhaled through his nose and lifted his gaze to hers.
“She is,” Tariq agreed in a resigned voice.
The old man quirked his head at Shahrzad. “You’ve caused a lot of trouble, beautiful one.”
Despite the reassuring hand Irsa placed atop hers, Shahrzad’s ire rose like embers being stoked to flame.
Aware she lacked grace in that moment, Shahrzad chose to say nothing. She rolled her tongue in her mouth. Pinched her lower lip between her teeth.
I am a guest here. I cannot behave as I desire.
No matter how angry and alone I may feel.
The old man smiled again. Ever wider. Ever more gap-toothed.
Infuriating.
“Are you worth it?”
Shahrzad cleared her throat. “Pardon?” she said, keeping tight rein on her emotions.
The boy with the ice-fire eyes watched with the rapt attention of a hawk.
“Are you worth all this trouble, beautiful one?” the old man repeated in maddening singsong.
Irsa wrapped a pleading hand around Shahrzad’s fingers, cold sweat slicking her palm.