Twenty-eight

Darbaran sat alone at the café, drinking coffee from a golden dallah pot that must have cost the equivalent of his entire year's salary when he was a guard. Now that he was wealthy, and ran the security of Basral, he bled the city coffers dry with his corruption.

"We already know his weaknesses quite well." Noor sat across from me pretending to read a book while I sipped my tea.

"It's certainly not coffee."

She smiled, her eyes on her book.

Greed .

The easiest thing to prey on. But it was more than that. Darbaran preyed on the weak, taking advantage of women and girls and abusing his position to feel powerful. I wanted to make him feel helpless instead.

"We greased his palms well enough when he got Casildo out of the city before the emperor got wind of it. They say he'll do anything unsavory for money. Basral's city guard is so corrupt all you need is gold. And I thought it was Mazin who controlled this city. Turns out it's actually Darbaran."

Noor inclined her head. "From what I can glean, Mazin attempts to crack down on the corruption. But Darbaran has done quite well since your arrest."

"He solidified his loyalty by framing me for murder." I thought back to his weaselly face when he was dragging me away, and that smug smile as he pocketed the glass poison vial beside the body of the dead chief I had supposedly killed. "I'm the one who made him his fortune."

"Fitting, then, that you will be the one to take it away." Noor smiled in his direction and took a bite of a rose water pastry ball sprinkled with pistachios.

I lifted my cup to my lips, savoring the last drops of chai at the bottom of the glass. This one had crushed almonds, and it tasted sweet and earthy.

"His own greed will be his downfall."

I placed the glass on the table and flexed my hand. "Let's put on a show for our dear captain."

The feast was the most extravagant one I'd ever been to, and I couldn't believe I was the one hosting it. Tonight, I'd be adding another brick in the tomb of Darbaran.

"Sanaya, your home is amazing."

I held my arms out to Anam as she entered through the double front doors. Her heels clicked across the front marble, her kameez shimmering moonlight. My throat constricted when I saw who was coming in behind her, stepping through the front doors, his dark coat immaculate, the gold embroidery gleaming.

"A pleasure to see you here, Mazin."

"I couldn't very well let my sister attend these festivities alone." His gaze swept the entrance, and then landed on me. I knew what he saw—my glossy mahogany hair coiffed to perfection, a maroon shalwar kameez setting off my complexion, black kajal lining my eyes, and bejeweled bangles adorning my wrists. I spared absolutely no adornment and no expense. I looked like a bride, which was exactly what I wanted Mazin to think of when he saw me.

His bride. A girl he could marry, fall in love with.

A girl who would devour his heart.

He inclined his head. "Thank you for inviting us this evening." His eyes roved over me, touching on my shoulders, my wrists, my hips. "You look magnificent." His voice was low but confident, not self-deprecating as he would have been when I knew him. As if he said this sort of thing to girls all the time. Once again, I was struck by how much he had changed, how commanding he had become.

I gave him a small smile and lowered my lashes. I was happy to play the part of the simpering fool if that's what he needed to prop up his ego.

"Are there black swans in your pond, Sanaya?" Anam interrupted us with a squeal and pointed to the courtyard where a glimmer of the large fountain outside could be seen.

"Yes, we acquired them last week. Go take a look for yourself. I adore them, but they will snap your fingers off if you get too close."

"I'll take you, sahiba." Noor gave Anam a small bow and led her outside. Which gave me the chance to be with Mazin alone.

"I'm sure you will be busy welcoming your other guests," he said smoothly, though he didn't take his eyes off me.

"Not at all," I responded, making my voice flustered, as if I couldn't catch my breath around him. It wasn't difficult given that my heart was slamming against my rib cage. "There are plenty of diversions throughout the house that will entertain them. I couldn't wait to meet more of the emperor's court, and I thought what better way to do so than have my own party?" I gave a small laugh.

"You've certainly made an impression on the city already," he commented, walking alongside me as we moved through the house. We paused every now and then to watch the fire-breathers or street performers that Noor had recruited for the evening.

"Basral has been good to me," I said simply, gesturing to the throngs of people surrounding us.

"I'm sure if we were to venture to your home in the mountains, we would receive the same welcome?"

I paused, because the words were not a statement but a question. And I was again faced with the sense that I was being interrogated.

So, he didn't quite trust me yet.

I laughed, a rich, throaty sound. He stared at me, something flashing through his expression that replaced the calm, confident mask he usually wore. But figuring out what he was thinking was like trying to hold water with my fingertips.

Then he smiled in return, a rare dimple popping in his cheek, the one I used to try to make appear when I joked with him during training.

"I've never heard you laugh like that," he said, his voice deep and smooth. "Was what I said funny?" He inclined his head.

"Yes, actually. If you were to come to my home in the mountains, you'd probably be in for a fight. But after you proved yourself with a blade, you can be sure you would receive a fine welcome."

"You have an interest in swords, and you bested my sister's attackers. You spoke to me at the palace about how your mother taught you to fight. It seems as if you'd be a skilled opponent yourself, though you don't give that impression."

I felt the sting of anger, which I tried to tamp down. But even though Sanaya might be, Dania wasn't the kind of girl who guarded her anger.

"A girl can't know how to fight and dress well?" I asked, arching my brow, telling myself I was supposed to be agreeable and compliant, the very opposite of myself.

His mouth popped open and he appeared momentarily speechless. "Not at all," he rushed to say, for the first time abandoning his self-assured tone. "Just that it surprises me."

"Why?" I said harshly, and a few guests looked over at us. I gave them a tight smile and kept walking with Mazin.

"Why?" he asked blankly.

"Why should it be a surprise? You taught your sister to fight. I'm assuming you've seen other.… girls fight? We are no different from you. Putting on a pretty outfit doesn't mean we can't slit your throat."

I winced, my words cutting a little too close to what Dania would say. But everything else about me was so different—from my eye color to the curve of my chin. There was no way he would suspect me based on a turn of phrase.

He smiled then, and the smooth Mazin was back. I felt a pang of disappointment. I wanted him unsettled, I wanted his real self when he spoke to me, not this unshakable man with shadows in his eyes and false smiles.

"I've seen other women fight, yes. I've fought alongside one of the greatest swordswomen for many years. But I didn't mean to offend you. Only that I find your interest in it refreshing."

I was brought up short by his mention of the greatest swordswoman.

Was he referring to me? He must be. I looked at him from the corner of my eye, but he still watched me with that same smooth mask.

"I've had some training with a blade," I said with a laugh. "But I'm no expert. I prefer to admire them, collect them, yes, but I'm not the best wielding them."

"I'm not sure I believe that—we'll have to have a bout sometime."

I swallowed thickly, my fingers burning to grab the hilt of my dagger, which was strapped to my thigh, and engage in a fight with him right there. But if we ever fought, he'd know exactly who I was.

And if he entered a bout with me with a blade, he wouldn't get out of it alive. I wanted him alive for what I was going to do to him.

I leaned forward on the banister overlooking the entranceway. We'd made it upstairs, and could oversee everyone who entered the house from this angle. I looked down, keeping tabs on which guests arrived and waiting for one person in particular to show his face.

"I'm afraid I wouldn't make it very long with a heavy sword. I'm just happy to collect them, really."

"It's a pity what happened to Casildo's sword collection—stolen immediately after he was arrested. I went to the house and it was completely gone." Mazin's voice was rough. "There were some knives in that collection I tried to buy from him. I would have liked to have them."

My eyes narrowed, wondering if he was talking about my father's swords. I had to bite my tongue to stop from telling him he would never have them.

Not as long as I was alive. He didn't deserve to own anything created by my father.

"I was heartbroken," I said, allowing my voice to crack slightly. "Such beautiful swords, lost."

I didn't mention that the entire collection was currently safe in the cellar of this house.

"I cannot believe what I heard about Casildo after he was arrested. Thievery, extortion, bribing city officials. Thankfully he's in the work camps where he belongs. It seems I'm not a very good judge of who is trustworthy or not." I rubbed the back of my neck, looking chagrined.

"Don't be too hard on yourself. Casildo fooled many." He looked away from me.

"He seemed to be held in high esteem. It was where you and I first met, after all. I certainly didn't expect a man respected by the emperor to be such a rogue."

"Sometimes it is those we trust the most who will betray us," he said softly, still not looking at me.

I paused at the words, a near-exact echo of the ones Noor said to me when we were in prison together. I pressed my hands against the banister to still their shaking. Or to stop myself from reaching out and strangling him.

"What do you know of betrayal?" I tried to soften my voice, but it still came out clipped and forceful, an accusation instead of a query. As if I were saying he couldn't possibly understand what it was to be deceived.

Mazin looked at me then, a question in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but instead a commotion near the door had us both turning our heads to look at the entranceway.

A loud laugh cut through the din of the party, and the cruel edge to it coupled with the raucous shouting told me exactly who it was.

Darbaran.

The guest I had been waiting for.

"What is he doing here?" Mazin stiffened, his stare drilling into Darbaran, who stood near the door with friends he'd brought along with him.

"The captain?" I said, trying to hide my humor behind faux innocence. Mazin had always hated Darbaran, and for good reason. The roach had preyed on the women in the palace. But Sanaya didn't know that. Let Mazin be my rescuer if I needed it.

"He helped me recently and I am so thankful for the additional security he provided after my home was robbed." I smiled at Maz as he continued to stare at Darbaran with venom in his eyes. "You don't like him?"

Mazin snapped his gaze to mine, his face smoothing over again. "Darbaran used to be at the palace. He was captain of the royal guard. He… isn't my favorite person." He studied me, as if deciding how much he could trust me.

Not at all, I almost told him. Instead, I gave him my most wide-eyed stare, hoping that I conveyed na?veté.

He licked his lips and my eyes went straight to his mouth.

"May I be discreet?"

"Pardon?" I looked up at him. "Oh, of course." I cleared my throat. "Do you know something about Darbaran I do not? After Casildo I'm terrified about who to trust."

"You can't depend on Darbaran," he said bluntly, his mouth thinning. "I can't say much more, but please don't entrust him with your safety." He looked so concerned I nearly laughed. Darbaran wouldn't be able to harm me if he were surrounded by a thousand city guards.

I leaned toward Mazin. "And who should I entrust it with, then? You?" I said the word softly, and it sat between us like an anchor.

For a moment we stared at each other. I couldn't tell if I had pushed the issue too far. But then Mazin moved closer, until we were only a few inches apart.

"If you like."

I released a breath, my heart beating as if I'd been in battle.

He'd wanted a swordfight, and this was no different, but instead of talwars, the weapons we used were words. Our bodies. This was a battle of intimacy, of landing the right strike, testing your opponent. If you rushed ahead, if you put the wrong foot forward, you could lose everything. But I was nothing if not good at waging war.

I wet my lips. "And what do you like?"

He let out a low chuckle that went straight to the pit of my stomach.

"I'd like you to be safe," he answered softly. "You did save my sister, after all."

"And that's the only reason?" I arched a brow. "Because I saved your sister?"

His eyes grew dark, and I could feel the heat from his body like it was drawing me to him, I a moth and he the hot flame. He flexed his hands and I stared down at the long fingers, hands I knew as well as my own.

"I am concerned for your safety, Sanaya."

"And nothing more?" I breathed, pushing as far as I dared. I had never flirted before and I was starting to think I might be quite good at it. Except for the fact that I currently needed to fan myself in my elaborate frock, so heavily beaded I wanted to peel it off my skin.

"Would you like there to be more?" he countered, a smile playing about his lips, but a dark heat in his eyes.

Oh yes. That's exactly what I want .

I tried to ignore how thick my tongue felt, or the loud hammering of my heart. I let out a steadying breath. I could not allow him to get the upper hand here, not again. I was in control of this.

I walked to a nearby alcove and Maz followed, walking behind me as if I were leading him on a string.

"I find myself intrigued by you, Mazin." My voice was soft and he leaned forward to hear. I gave a slow curl of my lips and moved farther into the shrouded alcove. "You protect your sister fiercely, you are loyal to your emperor, and you are worried for my safety." I raised a brow. "And yet you are aloof—holding yourself at a distance. I can't read you as I would wish." I pressed my hands to my side to quell the jitteriness of my nerves, ready to give the whole thing away. A part of me wished I was more sophisticated with men, that I had more experience manipulating and seducing.

But Mazin was the only person I'd ever been with, and it was difficult to keep my emotions at bay. I had to feign intimacy when my body was used to the real thing with him.

"And how would you wish to read me?" He was closer, his chest nearly touching mine. We were partially obscured by a curtain and I felt the rise and fall of his breath.

"I would read you like a novel. From cover to cover, learning everything about you."

He tilted his head. "Leisurely, only taking me out when you felt like it?"

I snorted. "Is that how you read your novels, Mazin? How uninspiring. No, I mean in a fierce frenzy, by candlelight, devouring you until I finished every page and committed it to memory, and then I'd flip right back to the front and start again from the beginning."

His eyes flared, glowing bright, those flecks of gold in the rich brown coming to life like embers. He pressed in on me further, so that my back hit the wall. I wore a coy smile on my face, daring him to push this more. I wanted everything, I wanted him here in this moment, thinking he had me.

"Ah." He bit the edge of his bottom lip, his eyes roaming over my face. "Perhaps I'm just reading the wrong things. Shall I tell you how I would read you?"

I shivered, hugging my chest as if my arms could guard my heart. I'd forgotten exactly what it was like for him to turn those dark eyes on me.

He seemed to take my silence as assent, and he continued. "I'd read you like scripture, a prayer. And all the worship I felt, I'd heap at your feet." His words were low, like he was actually praying, or reciting an incantation of the djinn, words for whispering magic and power.

I sucked in air through my teeth, the tension between us tight. It made me remember all-too-familiar things, his arms wrapped around me, his lips buried in the crook of my neck, his hands on my thighs.

I looked up into his blazing eyes, taking control of the moment.

"Just my feet?"

He moved so quickly I couldn't catch the movement—faster than any swordplay we'd had. His mouth slanted across mine hot and urgent, his body sheltering me like a banyan tree in a monsoon.

And I nearly sobbed.

It was everything I remembered. Everything that was real between us. It made me want to cry for the girl I had been, hopelessly in love, reckless and far too trusting.

I kissed him back.

Kissed him even though it set my skin on fire, even though it caused a swirling storm inside me clashing between my head and my heart, my body sighing in relief at being touched by him again but my head recognizing him for what he was—the boy who had given me everything and then burned it all to the ground.

My hands clutched at his dark sherwani, my head spinning. I wasn't sure if it was to pull him closer or stab him with my dagger.

But I wouldn't do that. Not yet. Not until I burned him up inside like he burned me. Until there was nothing left of him but this wanting. Until he begged for me like a dying man in the desert, and I the mirage that could have saved him.

And in the end decided to let him starve.