"I've heard-many conflicting rumors of what occurred the night of the storm in Rey."

Jahandar stiffened. His free hand drew tight over the book. It still felt warm to the touch, though it no longer burned with the same fervor. The cold metal of the key around his neck weighed him down, like an anchor dragging along the seafloor.

Reza observed his reaction in silence. Then he pressed on, without missing a beat.

"Can you not tell me what happened?"

"I-I do not remember." Jahandar's broken nails dug into the worn leather of the book.

"Truly?"

Jahandar nodded.

Reza sighed with obvious reluctance. "I am not one of the shiftless masses, Jahandar-jan. We've spent many years of friendship together. I was there when Irsa was born. And I was there when . . . Mina died." His voice grew soft. "I did all I could, and I always wished I could do more."

Jahandar's heart caught in his throat. It was true. Reza had brought his own personal physician to Jahandar's wife's sickbed, though his efforts had been for naught. And Reza had cared for Shahrzad and Irsa in the days following, when Jahandar had been . . . unable to do so.

"I know, old friend," Jahandar whispered. "I will never forget what you did."

Reza's smile was sad and small. "Alas, such trying times can never be forgotten. But I'd rather we recall what friends are capable of in our times of need." He paused for emphasis. "Just as I know what you are capable of, even if there are only a handful of people who are aware of it."

This, too, was true. Reza had always known that Jahandar possessed unique abilities.

Reza steepled both hands beneath his chin, letting his gaze fall upon Jahandar's smooth scalp. "Old friend, did you do something the night of the storm?"

Could he confide in Reza bin-Latief? Could he trust him with his secret?

"If you did," Reza pressed in a low voice, "please know I will not judge you. In fact, I will celebrate you. For I know you did not mean to do anything wrong. And, if you did do something, it must have been a remarkable feat."

Jahandar swallowed.

"One we would have a tremendous use for," Reza finished.

Use? Reza had a use for Jahandar?

"If you accomplished such an astounding feat alone," Reza said quietly, his brown eyes bright in their fervor, "can you imagine what you could accomplish with a force of soldiers at your back? With the strength of an army at your beck and call?"

Jahandar's gaze flitted across Reza bin-Latief's face. Across the lines drawn by deep thought. And obvious calculation.

He saw it. He knew what Reza was doing.

Knew it . . . and did not care.

Jahandar realized that for the first time in many years-for the first time since Mina had died and he had lost his position in the palace-Reza truly saw him. Saw the man he'd first met those many years ago. A vizier to the Caliph of Khorasan.

A man of power and influence.

A man worthy of Reza's consideration.

In low tones, Jahandar began talking. And did not stop.

Not until Reza bin-Latief smiled with satisfaction.

Just like old times.

THE WINGED SERPENT.

SHAHRZAD HAD NOT INTENDED TO TORMENT KHALID with the magic carpet.

Not at first.

But he brought it on himself. Truly, he did.

The moment the Caliph of Khorasan said-with coolly regal arrogance-that only a child would be afraid to fly, Shahrzad knew it was a challenge she was meant to take on.

Meant to see fall to glorious pieces.

After all, even she had been afraid at first. But Khalid need not know that.

As soon as he settled onto the carpet, Shahrzad coaxed it into the air without a word of warning.

A volley of expletives flew from Khalid's mouth. They only became more foul as Shahrzad urged the carpet high above the city, in a twist of whistling wind. Laughing into the darkness, she spurred the magic carpet even faster, then rose to her knees. When Khalid tried to tug her back down-his eyes flashing-she sent a look of mocking scorn over one shoulder.

"Get down," Khalid yelled over the wind, taking tight hold of her waist.

"Don't be a bore!"

"You'll fall."

"No, I won't." She spread her arms wide.

"How do you know that?"

"I just do!"

"Get down," he insisted, his jaw rigid. "Please!"

"Why?"

"Because you're killing me, by degrees!"

Grumbling, Shahrzad eased back onto the carpet. Khalid pulled her into his chest, his breath fast against her neck.

A small part of her felt guilty.

The rest felt smug.

Serves him right. Perhaps the King of Kings won't be so arrogant next time.

She grinned to herself. Khalid ceasing to be arrogant was just as unlikely as her ceasing to provoke him. It was simply too easy. And much too much fun.

"Are you finally starting to breathe in a normal fashion?" Shahrzad teased. "I must confess I find your behavior rather odd, considering you said only a child would be afraid to fly."

"I wasn't afraid." Khalid wrapped a forearm of corded muscle around her.

She slanted a disbelieving look his way. "You just lied to me."

"I wasn't afraid," he repeated. "I was terrified."

When she laughed, Shahrzad was rewarded with one of his uncommonly effortless smiles. The kind that changed a face of shadows into one of light.

The kind that made her want to forget how small the magic carpet happened to be.

"You're beautiful," Shahrzad commented softly.

Khalid's hand tightened around her waist. "Are you not stealing the words customarily reserved for a man?"

"You're welcome to say other, less customary things." Though her tone was airy, her pulse stuttered.

"Such as?"

"You're a smart man. I'm sure you'll think of something."

"I already have." The touch of Khalid's lips trailing below her ear sent a swirl of desire through her.

It's a shame we're otherwise occupied at the moment.

Or else she would definitely act upon it.

They traveled over a stretch of desert near an expanse of mountains. Above them, a few lonely stars flickered, stitched across a dark fabric of night. Khalid soon grew accustomed to the rush of wind against his face, the tense set of his shoulders slackening. After a time, the air began to thicken with the scent of salt, and the sea glimmered along the horizon.

The carpet slowed as they neared the promontory before landing by the pool of water set against the cliff. Shahrzad secured the magic carpet to her back while Khalid unsheathed his shamshir, his movements like that of a prowling jungle cat.

Though she'd behaved in the same manner only a few nights ago, Shahrzad rolled her eyes. "That's unnecessary. Not to mention insulting."

"Forgive me for not feeling welcome wherever I go," he muttered. "And for not taking any chances."

With a shake of her head, Shahrzad reached for his free hand, threading her fingers through his.

"Shahrzad-jan?" Musa emerged from between the strange statues at the opposite side of the pool.

Again, Khalid did not miss a beat. Though he recognized the magus, he tugged Shahrzad closer and raised his shamshir.

Musa smiled at Khalid, his teeth like pearls set against ebony. "I did not think you would come."

It took Khalid a moment to reply. "My wife can be very persuasive." His sword remained vigilant.

The magus's eyes crinkled at the corners. "It is good to see you. It has been so long."

Khalid said nothing.

Musa strode closer. He appeared to be studying Khalid. Perhaps trying to see traces of the boy he'd known in the young man before him. "You look-"

"Like my father," Khalid finished in a clipped tone. "Many have told me."

"You do. But I see your mother in you. Most especially in your eyes."

"You have no cause to flatter me. Lies do not become you."

"I am not lying." Musa rounded the pool. "Your eyes may be the same color as your father's, but I can tell they see the world as Leila did. They see all. Your father"-he failed to forestall a grimace-"saw very little."

Khalid's eyes narrowed to slits. "My father saw enough."

The meaning behind his rejoinder was evident.

A father who saw enough to destroy a small boy's world.

"No." Musa stopped before them, his colorful cloak swaying above the tan stone. "He saw what he wished to see. And he never gave anyone the chance to show him otherwise."

There was obvious meaning to the magus's words as well.

"I did not come here to be lectured by my mother's tutor," Khalid countered. "Nor did I come here to grant you the chance to win me over, Musa Zaragoza."

Musa nodded. "I did not expect to win you over in a night. But-"

"Do not expect to win me over," Khalid said coldly. "Ever."

"Khalid-jan," Shahrzad whispered. She tugged on his hand in silent censure.

Though he did not appear the least bit remorseful, Khalid squeezed her palm in acknowledgment.

Musa's smile turned wistful. "I am so very sorry, little pahlang. For everything."

Shahrzad felt Khalid's body go rigid beside her.

Little pahlang. Little tiger.

"You do not have permission to call me that." Khalid's features were drawn and tight. "I am the Caliph of Khorasan to you. Nothing more."

In that moment, everything about Khalid hearkened back to a time when Shahrzad had lived in fear of the dawn. When all she knew of him was a boy of ice and stone, who murdered his brides without cause or apology.

A time when all she had were stories fueled by hatred.

It pained her to see Khalid returning to this. A shell of what he was.

A shadow of what he could be.

Musa bowed, his fingers to his forehead. "A thousand apologies, sayyidi."