"Is something wrong?" Her voice sounded innocent, though her expression conveyed a sentiment far less so. Shahrzad sat on the edge of his platformed bed, tucking her legs to one side.

"Wrong is not exactly the right word." His retort was brusque, but there was a note of humor beneath it.

Khalid strode through his poorly lit chamber, his movements fluid, like those of a shadow limned in smoke. Shahrzad followed him with her eyes, aware she likely resembled a predator stalking prey.

He removed a cushioned settee from behind his ebony desk and brought it before the bed. When Khalid sat down, he made a point of the distance between them- A point Shahrzad was not meant to mistake.

At this, she frowned. "That's taking matters a bit far, don't you think?"

"If I intend to think, then no. One could argue it's not far enough." Khalid leaned against the settee, his eyes flashing. Focused. Unflinching.

No. Shahrzad was not the predator. Not anymore.

Well, then.

Flustered, she made a motion to stand. "Really, I-"

"Shazi." Khalid lifted a hand to stop her. "You can't . . . you . . . you shouldn't stay."

She'd never known Khalid to struggle with words before.

"I'm-not staying."

Khalid sank lower into the ivory silk. Then he nodded.

"But I have every intention of staying-eventually." Shahrzad raised her chin with an imperious air. "In fact, I intend to do far more than stay. I intend to flourish. Once we break the curse." She let her statement carry through the vast chamber, defying the very walls to rise up and challenge her.

Even in the weak light from the latticed lamp above, Shahrzad saw Khalid's face soften. "If I thought there was a way to break this curse-"

"There may be," she interjected. "But I need you to trust me. And not be angry with me for what I'm about to tell you."

"I do trust you."

"But will you be angry?"

He said nothing. His eyes merely constricted at the edges.

Undoubtedly weighing their options. Or forming their strategies.

Some things do not change.

"You must know you have an abominable temper," Shahrzad said with reproach.

A smile ghosted across his lips. "As do you, my queen."

"We are not discussing my shortcomings." She sniffed. "Promise me you won't lose your temper until I finish talking?"

Again, he said nothing.

"Khalid?"

He dipped his head once in acknowledgment.

"I went to the Fire Temple to see Musa Zaragoza."

Khalid stiffened. Already Shahrzad could see him assembling his objections, so she barreled forward before he could begin.

"I know you harbor bitterness toward him because of what happened with your mother. Of his . . . failure to come to her aid. But he wishes to help now. And he was the one who gave me both the knowledge and the means to travel here unseen."

"I appreciate him helping you, Shahrzad. A great deal."

But he didn't sound as though he did. Save for the breath Khalid used to speak her name, the rest of his words were rote in tone. Cold and perfunctory.

Disappointed by his inability to forgive Musa, Shahrzad leveled a withering stare in his direction. Khalid met her-glare for glare-until he exhaled in defeat, giving her leave to continue.

"One of his students at the Fire Temple has a relative who professes to be a powerful sorceress. It's possible she can offer us a way to undo the curse."

Khalid's response was immediate, his posture unyielding. "This kind of magic comes with a price. One I am not willing to pay."

"Please." Shahrzad sat up, her damp hair falling over one shoulder. "At least come with me and learn what that cost might be."

"No." His pronouncement was final.

But Shahrzad refused to be swayed. "Khalid-"

"I do not know these people; therefore, they cannot be trusted."

"You said you trusted me."

"I trust you implicitly. But it would be irresponsible of me to trust Musa Zaragoza or his so-called students with my life," Khalid said cuttingly. "And I doubly do not trust them with yours."

"Stop being so stubborn!" Her bare feet fell to the onyx floor. "Do not make me beg you. Because I won't. I'll merely lose my temper or cry. And I have always secretly despised those who cry to wheedle their objectives. But if you force me to do it, Khalid Ibn al-Rashid, I will. And I cry beautifully." She crossed her arms and pursed her lips.

A corner of his mouth twitched. "You do not cry beautifully."

"Liar!"

"I'm not lying." He held her gaze. "I rarely lie."

She'd long suspected this to be the case. Yet Shahrzad could not resist pressing Khalid further. "You've never lied to me?"

He paused. "Once."

"Oh?" She peaked a slender brow. "And when was that?"

"In the souk. When you asked if I remembered my last dream. I said I did not."

"And you did?"

Khalid nodded.

Shahrzad took a cautious breath, wondering if it would be wiser not to push the matter. "Will you tell me what your dream was about?"

"At the time, it was less a dream and more a recurring nightmare." Khalid regarded her for a beat. "I dreamed of sleeping beside a girl in my chamber. I don't remember her face. Nor do I remember anything about her. I only remember how I felt."

"How did you feel?"

"As though I'd found peace." His gaze grew even more intent.

Even more pointed.

"Oh." Shahrzad looked away, toying with the sleeve of the borrowed qamis to conceal the flush in her cheeks.

That night at the souk, Khalid lied because he thought this dream was about me.

"The last time I had this dream was the night before you came to the palace," he continued. "I remember it well because I woke suddenly, searching for something that . . . wasn't there." His eyes drifted to the alabaster wall; he was lost in thought.

Lost in a familiar wasteland. A wasteland Shahrzad hoped never to see again.

She walked toward him, resolve firming her steps.

"That peace you seek is here," Shahrzad whispered. "Fight for it. I'll fight for it with you. I'll do whatever it takes." Her hands clenched around her sleeves. "When I was in the desert, I woke each day and carried on with my life, but it wasn't living; it was merely existing. I want to live. You are where I live."

Khalid stared up at her, his features inscrutable- His eyes inciting her heart to riot.

"I've missed the silence of you listening to me." Shahrzad attempted a weak smile. "No one listens to me as you do."

His expression turned quizzical.

"You don't wait to speak," she clarified. "You truly listen."

"Only to you," Khalid replied gently.

At that, Shahrzad reached a hand toward him. Stopped just before his brow, as if seeking permission. He bent forward, and her fingers sifted through the black silk of his hair. Khalid reached behind her knee, drawing her closer.

"Fight with me," she said.

At his silence, Shahrzad tugged his hair back, forcing him to look her in the eye. "I want a life with those I love around me, safe and happy. What do you want?"

"To live . . . fiercely."

"What else?"

"To taste every breath." Khalid skimmed a hand down her leg. A frisson of heat shot up her spine.

"What else?" Her voice shook.

"To fall asleep each night with you by my side."

Shahrzad took his face between her palms.

"Then fight for it."

His careful control shattered. Khalid stood suddenly, catching her to him.

"Will you go with me?" she gasped as his hands moved higher.

He nodded.

Then Khalid pulled her close and crushed his mouth to hers. His tongue edged past her lips, and she breathed his name while he strode toward the bed, pouring their bodies onto the dull silk.

She would never cease to be astounded by this- The flawless awareness behind every look, every whisper, every sigh.

His words were a spark cast in oil. His touch was a fire against her skin.

Shahrzad tugged the length of linen over her head, and Khalid rose to his knees and removed his qamis. He glanced down at her- Then everything stilled with an awful precipitousness.

His jaw flexed. His knuckles turned white.

He was furious.

Beyond furious.

His face was a lesson in rage. The quiet, all-consuming sort. It was at its worst when he was this quiet.

As Khalid stared down at her body, she realized why.

The bruises. The burn.

"Khalid-"

"Who did this to you?" His voice was soft. Deathly soft.

Its brutal assurance sent a shiver down her back.

Never forget: Khalid is not a forgiving man.

To him, violence begets violence. And likely always will.

"Don't," Shahrzad said gently. "Don't ruin our time together with anger. I am not hurt. And these injuries are my own fault. Ones I would gladly take again and again, because they've made me stronger. They've led me to you."

"Shahrzad-"

She reached up to trace the mark on his collarbone. The faint bruise along his jaw. Then she shifted her fingers to the newest cuts on his hands. To the gash across his palm that had not yet healed.

"I hate your scars, too," Shahrzad murmured. "But skin is skin, be it a man's or a woman's. And pain is pain. Don't lament mine more than I do yours. And trust that-if ever there comes a time when an injustice is done to me-you will be the first to know." She pressed a kiss to his injured palm. "And I will stand by your side as we right it."

Shahrzad took his hand and placed it on the wound on her stomach. "I promise it doesn't hurt." She grinned almost teasingly.