The Bodyguard
I awakened to snores and the snorts of horses, lifting lashes that were heavy and brittle.
The sky cast down a warm glow, and the morning air touched my skin in soft strokes, similar to the gentle ministrations Farani had treated me with.
I remembered waking some time ago due to the storm.
Farani had shielded me from it with her form and a cloak until it settled.
I sat up, taking in the scattered bedrolls making up the encampment.
For a moment, confusion gripped me, and then I remembered.
The war, the deaths, the princes. Barakat.
I squeezed my eyes closed. Farani pressing a cool cloth to my face had just been a dream.
I tugged aside the heavy fabric someone had draped over me.
It was smooth and of high-quality material, and it was a cloak I was certain had been wrapped around Shahzadeh Dayyan’s shoulders.
A coil of rope rested beside me and I noted with a start that my hands were no longer tied.
A soft exhale pulled my gaze to the right. A large shape filled the space beside me. Who dared to sleep so close? The soldiers had been ordered to keep their distance. Then I took in the man’s features. Shahzadeh Dayyan. Of course.
I folded the cloak and placed it beside him, watching him for any sign of movement.
Other than the deep rise and fall of his chest, he was still.
His eyes were closed, sparing me the sight of his icy gaze.
The hilt of his shamshir caught my attention.
The contempt flaring to life in my chest urged me to use this moment.
Take the weapon and slice his throat. I could almost see it—the crimson drops flowing from his neck, the iron tang of blood.
He would pay for what he’d done to Barakat.
But not yet. I had to wait until the opportune moment when I could kill them both.
I couldn’t forget his twisted villainous brother was my primary target.
I rose to my full height, tiptoeing away with my heartbeat echoing in my ears.
I made my way across the sand until my sandaled feet touched the stone walkway of the Marz.
We had made it to the border while I was unconscious.
Tall buildings rose around me. Guards stood at the foot of each step leading into the structures.
The doors of one swung open, and Shahzadeh Bahir and a tall thin man with sharp features emerged.
They were deep in conversation. I ducked out of sight as they neared, concealing myself behind the stone of a building.
“Once I marry the shahdokht, the rest will fall into my hands. The roots will be ours.”
I made out Bahir’s voice and his chuckle.
The other man laughed with him. I peered around the stone, watching them grasp each other’s shoulders like old comrades.
Well, the thin man was gripping Bahir’s shoulder.
The shahzadeh stepped away, forcing the hand to fall.
I spotted the annoyance on his face and the discreet swipe across the cloth covering his shoulder as they continued walking.
Sweat trickled down my brow. A rustling noise startled me, and I spun, glancing around to pinpoint it, but was wrenched backward, crashing face-first into a solid chest. An arm drifted around my waist, keeping me pinned there. I shoved against the person.
“Release me!” I screeched before slipping into a fit of curses I’d never used before.
A chuckle answered, and I looked up, seeing Shahzadeh Dayyan’s stony face crinkle in amusement.
It was an astonishing difference, like the sun shining over a murky river, setting it alight.
My struggle halted as I searched my enemy’s features.
I hated the Northerners to the extent that they had never even seemed human.
So, how did this simple reaction send my entire world rattling?
“Did you just call me the son of a donkey?”
“Release me.”
“With pleasure.”
He dropped his arm from my waist, and I stumbled back, dazed. I blinked, trying to disperse the strange reaction.
“How dare you touch me?” My face was on fire. I wanted to hurt him for making me feel so small and defeated. “If I report you to your little brother, I wonder what punishment he would give you for daring to touch his bride.”
“Do not move,” he ordered.
The insults froze on my tongue as he unsheathed a knife and approached me with careful steps. We were now breaths apart, his eyes settling on mine.
“Do not move,” he repeated, his tone softer.
“Do not give me orders,” I hissed back.
My eyes flitted to his weapon. The shine of the knife brought me back in time to when his soldiers had approached Barakat to tear her ethereal body to pieces.
A sheen cast over my vision. I blinked, erasing the building moisture.
I couldn’t fall to pieces and allow this wicked prince of the North to see me crumble. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
I shoved his chest, but he did not budge.
“You will pay for what you did to her. I swear, I will not die without making you regret the day you were born.”
“Vast words from a captured shahdokht,” he said, the blue of his eyes flashing. “What do you say we end it now?”
He lifted the blade, tilting it toward my neck.
I held his gaze, though my mouth went dry as the weapon inched closer.
I steeled my posture and didn’t release his eyes.
His knife slammed forward. I flinched. It was less than a finger from my neck, buried into the stone wall.
I swallowed, turning, then recoiled. It was sliced through a vicious-looking snake. He leaned closer, stealing my air.
His features were grim, all traces of amusement gone. “You can report me to my brother all you want, but it is needless. You are the last woman I could ever want. But I am sure Bahir will be pleased to hear your tale. You are certainly eager to fulfill your role as his loyal, obedient wife.”
His words stunned me. My mouth opened and closed until I settled on saying, “If you think your lack of wanting me upsets me in any way, you are wrong.” I lifted my chin. “You are the vilest man to cross the desert. I would rather starve to death than feel your touch.”
Shahzadeh Dayyan drew nearer, his lips by my ear. “And I would starve before touching a woman who didn’t want me. Much less a Southerner.”
I opened my mouth to fire back when he cut me off.
“What were you doing here? Attempting to escape?”
He leaned in, and my back pressed against the stone. My breathing was shallow because of fear, anger, and some unnamable emotion. His arm lifted, his fingers wrapping around his knife hilt and pulling it free, leaving the snake’s remains splattered on the stone.
“How far could you have gotten?” His voice was as harsh as the biting desert wind. “In the storms, alone and unarmed?”
“I wasn’t escaping,” I managed. “I had to relieve myself.”
He froze, and a dark blush flooded up his neck. To his credit, he remained stony. “Have you finished your business?”
I nodded, satisfied at the embarrassment darkening his skin. He reached out, grabbing my arm once again. I jerked against his hold.
“I will stop doing this once you cease attempting escape.”
I rolled my eyes, allowing him to drag me to the center of the buildings. The soldiers had taken down the canopy and packed the bedrolls. Zeki, Shahzadeh Dayyan’s bodyguard, approached us.
“I purchased the item you requested,” Zeki said in a low tone, leaning close to his prince.
The bodyguard pulled out dangling golden earrings that sparkled in the sunlight. Shahzadeh Dayyan took them from him, nodding his head in appreciation. He tucked them into his belt.
“Are they for Delara?” I couldn’t help the jab. The name of his handkerchief maker was stuck in my mind. I couldn’t stop myself from wondering what sort of woman could stand him, let alone care for him.
Zeki started at the name. He glanced between me and Shahzadeh Dayyan. Something about the bodyguard nagged at me, but I couldn’t pin it down. Shahzadeh Dayyan didn’t bother to give me a response, his mouth twisting in that strange way I was growing accustomed to. A mixture of a smile and scowl.
“You told her about Delara?” Zeki sounded surprised, his words so low I barely caught them. He stared at Shahzadeh Dayyan with wide eyes.
Delara must be quite an important person to the shahzadeh.
Perhaps she was more than a simple courtesan.
But the thought of Shahzadeh Dayyan loving someone, or even caring for them, was unimaginable.
He didn’t have a speck of mercy or a beating heart to feel such an emotion.
Still, picturing him with this sketch of a woman made my gut twist. I couldn’t understand why I was so uneasy.
Boots neared, pulling me from my thoughts.
Shahzadeh Bahir stopped before us. A frown marked a line between his brows.
“I heard the shahdokht had run off.” Anger simmered in the cold azure of his eyes.
“She didn’t,” Shahzadeh Dayyan said.
“Is that so? Smart girl.” Bahir stepped closer, cupping my cheek over my chadar. “She’s realized no matter where she runs, she cannot escape me.” His finger skimmed my lower lip over the scarf, and I nearly gagged.
The firm hand around my arm tugged me back, leaving Bahir’s hand hanging in the air. The prince lowered his hand, resorting to glowering at his brother.
“We must leave,” Shahzadeh Dayyan said, his grip remaining around my forearm. “There won’t be any wahshi lying in wait to ambush us this soon after a storm. Besides, our people are waiting.”
The suspicion filtering through Bahir’s face sifted into a humorless smirk. “You are correct, biyoder. They are anticipating the grand wedding. Let us not keep them waiting.”