Before the guards could reach her, Shahrzad stopped short.

Her reaction was not a result of the soldiers' unspoken threat. Nor was it a result of some misplaced sense of propriety. Alas with Shahrzad, it was never that. It was something else entirely.

It was worry. Worry for a former friend. Worry for a child not yet born.

Just as soon as the worry coursed through Shahrzad, it was eclipsed by another tide of emotion.

Bitterness. Black and choking bitterness.

Her gaze flicked over the sweeping curves of the girl before her-always lovely-and now even more resplendent, in a dress of amethyst silk, gathered at both shoulders by copper cuffs forming shimmering folds. These silken folds fell to Despina's feet in streams of lilac and mauve. The deep cut of the garment only accentuated her beautiful shape, as did the high waist and the copper sash, embellished with brilliant gemstones of vivid purple and blush pink, encircled in rose gold. Her honey-walnut hair was piled atop her head in an ornate arrangement adorned with a band of glittering jewels.

A crown.

The bitterness swelled within Shahrzad.

Despina had been many things to Shahrzad once. She'd been a friend when Shahrzad had most needed it. A confidante where Shahrzad had had none. But it was clear everything Shahrzad had known about Despina had been cloaked in lies. For it was beyond evident she was even more things now. The secret daughter of Salim Ali el-Sharif. A princess of Parthia. A spy and a deceiver.

Above all things, it was clear Despina had never been Shahrzad's friend.

"Was there ever a moment in which you told me the truth?" Shahrzad demanded in a raw whisper.

Despina's lips gathered into a perfect moue. An all-too-familiar one. "Aren't you going to congratulate me? I'm married now. Or haven't you heard?" Her moue slid into a grin.

Over Despina's shoulder, Yasmine walked closer, with an uneasy laugh and a reticent gait. Amidst all the recent confusion, Shahrzad had not even seen the daughter she'd known about-the daughter she'd been expecting.

At least Yasmine has the grace to feel embarrassed.

For Yasmine el-Sharif did seem oddly out of place. Though she looked every bit as stunning as Shahrzad remembered-her mahogany hair a profusion of waves down her back, and her emerald skirt's gentle sway hinting at the sort of grace no amount of practice could ever perfect-the princess also did not seem to want to take part in this terrible unveiling. She continued glancing over her shoulder as though she meant to flee.

The girl seemed as though she wanted to be anywhere but here.

Shahrzad's eyes returned to Despina. "Married? What poor fool have you duped into marriage?"

Despina winked. "Wouldn't you like to know." She floated into the seat beside her father. "But congratulations are due, nonetheless. For it just so happens my husband is a good friend of yours."

Still inexplicably taciturn, Yasmine took the place next to Despina, while Jahandar sat beside Shahrzad. He shot her a nervous glance full of warning, which Shahrzad promptly ignored.

The feast before her forgotten in a sea of rage, Shahrzad glowered at her devious former handmaiden, as moments from their shared past drifted hot and fast into her present.

"A good spy would hide her identity."

"The best spies don't have to."

So many conversations shared over so many cups of tea.

So many supposed confidences.

Despina's mother had been one of the most famous beauties in all of Cadmeia. Her father had been a rich man who'd left them both behind for a brighter future.

Or had he? What could Shahrzad believe of the tales she'd been told?

Of course Despina would not want to marry Jalal! Of course she would not want to marry into the family she'd been spying on for so many years! Of course she would flee! Only to return to her father's waiting arms . . . and all-too-eager ears.

Only to betray Shahrzad. And all those she loved.

How could I have been so stupid?

"How could you do this to us?" Shahrzad whispered. "I treated you as a friend. You told me Khalid was kind to you."

"The Caliph of Khorasan is kind to no one," Despina replied airily. "Or perhaps you've forgotten how you first came to be at the palace?" She snorted. "I daresay that's rather convenient."

The sultan laughed, rich and robust. Despina had the gall to simper in his direction. Now that they sat close to each other, Shahrzad could see it. Though it was not a resemblance readily apparent when they were apart. Despina must have acquired her coloring from her mother, but her bearing was much like that of the sultan. Haughty. Proud. Her bone structure was similar to his as well. A sharp brow and a high set of cheekbones. Indeed, Shahrzad could even see similarities between Despina and Yasmine. An ethereal sort of beauty. Regal in its manner.

No wonder Despina had slipped past everyone with such ready ease. Such brazen charm. It was born to her. She was meant to reside in a palace. To slither and snake her way into its inner circle, with the very best of the vipers.

In a mere six years, she'd managed to earn the trust of the Caliph of Khorasan.

And the heart of the captain of the guard.

"How could you do this to Jalal?" Shahrzad asked, her nails digging into her palms as she tried in vain to suppress her seething outrage.

Her expression unnervingly apathetic, Despina spooned some pomegranate-and-pistachio rice onto her plate. "Alas, Jalal al-Khoury's sentiments are no longer my concern." Then she smirked at Shahrzad, and the feigned sympathy behind it made Shahrzad want to tear the band of shining stones from her crown of curls. "But rest assured. The captain of the guard will have no trouble finding a willing girl to soothe his injured pride, of that I am certain." The last words savored strangely of bitterness.

Shahrzad clenched her teeth, willing herself to stay silent and still. She caught Yasmine considering her through half-lidded eyes.

It was unlike the princess to be so quiet. It surprised Shahrzad, but then Yasmine el-Sharif had surprised her on more than one occasion. Again, Shahrzad felt as though Yasmine wished to speak but perhaps had yet to form an opinion. Or lacked the necessary nerve in front of her father.

Nevertheless, Yasmine looked for all the world displeased. For an instant, Shahrzad thought to engage her. But the beautiful girl would not look her in the eye. Still refused to see her as anything but an enemy.

Not an equal.

Shahrzad continued glaring at Despina while the former handmaiden laughed and joked with the Sultan of Parthia-with her father-as though she had not spent years in a world of deceit.

In the midst of Shahrzad's roiling thoughts, a sudden realization rose quickly to the surface.

Despina could not have lied about being pregnant.

For Shahrzad remembered how Despina had fallen ill before her eyes.

Shahrzad let her shoulders relax. She reached for her jewel-encrusted goblet of wine. "Uncle Salim," she began in a cool tone, "are you aware of your daughter's pregnancy? Or did she fail to tell you that she is in fact with child?"

"Of course he is aware of it," Despina replied without missing a beat. "I told you, I am married. It stands to reason I might be with child."

Even more lies.

"Is that so?" Shahrzad clenched her jaw, then took a sip of wine, trying to steady herself. "And what did you do with your supposed husband? Toss him into the sea when you were done with him?"

"Oh, no." Despina's eyes shone bright. "He is safely stowed away, where he will cause me no trouble."

"Then you brought the poor lout with you?" Shahrzad all but sneered.

"Of course."

"What kind of fool husband is this?"

"The best kind. The type to say very little."

"Will you never stop lying?" Shahrzad said through her teeth. She turned with pointed intent toward Salim. "My lord, did you know the father of her child is-"

"The caliph's favorite bodyguard," Despina finished with a slow smile.

Shahrzad blinked once. Twice. "What?" she yelled, slamming her wine goblet onto the table.

Again, a pair of guards materialized from the shadows.

Despina aimed a cutthroat grin her way. "Vikram Singh is the father. Did you not know? And here I thought you two were rather close."

The-Rajput? Vikram is here? I thought he had perished the night of the storm.

Stunned into silence for the second time that evening, Shahrzad continued staring at her former handmaiden, trying to reconcile all she'd seen with all that had long been thought and said.

No. That is not possible. Where is the truth in all these lies?

"Don't worry, Shahrzad," Despina said. "Vikram is safe. Or, rather, he's as safe as he can be, given the circumstances."

Immediately, Shahrzad's most pressing questions melted away. "What have you done with Vikram?"

To her right, she heard Jahandar stifle a troubled sigh. A sigh meant to silence her questions.

"Father?" Despina looked toward the immensely pleased face of Salim Ali el-Sharif.

Salim took a deep breath, as though he needed time to consider how best to respond. "My nephew's most prized bodyguard is exactly where he should be-in a place reserved for those who fail to hold their tongues on matters that are no longer their concern."

"And what matters might those be?" Shahrzad asked in a furious whisper.

"Well, as my daughter's husband, he should care more for his family rather than for yours, should he not?"

"Forgive me, Uncle Salim. I thought we were one and the same."

A sharp pause. "No, Shahrzad al-Khayzuran. We are not."

Jahandar gasped quietly beside his daughter.

Again, Shahrzad wrapped her fingers around the silken cushions at her sides. "So then, we have come to it. Enough with the pleasantries. What do you mean to do with me?"

Salim leaned forward, bracing his elbows along the table's gilded edge. "What do you suppose I shall do?"

"That depends on what you expect Khalid to do," Shahrzad bit out.

"I expect him to come for you."

"And what do you think will happen when he does? Besides your utter annihilation."

Yasmine finally met Shahrzad's gaze. "Father-"

Salim did not even grace his daughter with a look. "I expect he will do what he's been too cowardly to do for years-meet me in the desert with a proper army. And fight to see who deserves to rule these lands."

Despite the fear that spiked within her-knowing Khalid still lacked a proper army-a scoff escaped Shahrzad's lips, its sound dripping with derision. "Khalid has never been a coward a day in his life. No matter how much you howl into the wind, it will never bow to you. And you're a fool if you think it will be that easy."

At that, Jahandar's body curved in on itself, as if preparing for the next blow.

Yasmine sucked in a breath, and Shahrzad could not help but glance her way. The Princess of Parthia aimed a look of warning at her.

Behind it Shahrzad saw a flash of sympathy.

"Easy?" Salim began, the word bursting from a caustic round of laughter. "Do you think this has been easy? Nothing about this has been easy. It has been years in the making. Years spent watching that sullen boy flout me at every turn. Years spent watching him deny my daughter!" A fist crashed beside his plate. "The only thing that saved him from being called bastard was his uncanny resemblance to his father."

Though Shahrzad caught the second look of caution Yasmine threw her way, she ignored it. "That and the fact that you were afraid of him."

Jahandar gripped her wrist beneath the table.

A rush of anger swelled across Salim's face. "I have never been afraid of him."

"You lie as your spiteful daughter lies." Shahrzad smiled. "You've always been afraid of him."

"Shahrzad!" Jahandar exclaimed, finally electing to speak out.

Only to side with Shahrzad's enemy.

"Baba, say nothing more."

"Daughter, you have defied me-"

At that, Shahrzad tore her arm from his grasp. "And you have brought me here against my will, to be used as a pawn by these despicable liars!"

"I thought to bring you here to negotiate a truce. To help ease these wounds!"

"To help whom?" Shahrzad accused. "For it seems as though the only person you sought to help was yourself!"

The color rose in Jahandar's face, first in a flush of red. Then in a wash of white.

He looked away.

But he did not deny it.

"How does it feel, Shahrzad al-Khayzuran?" Despina said in a melodious voice. "To be treated as a slave? To be the servant of people who see themselves as above you, when you know in your heart that you are the same?"

"Ask your father," Shahrzad retorted.