The Bodyguard #2
Delara’s smile crept in again, and I realized it wouldn’t take much to win her over.
Platters of food were brought and placed before us.
Sanaz moved the sweet dishes out of the children’s reach, but Dayyan smuggled some beneath the table.
Omid and Delara giggled as they accepted it, looking at their elder brother with clear adoration.
Dayyan winked, and they winked back in unison.
I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips—until Delara broke into a sudden fit of coughs.
The warmhearted exchange between Dayyan, Bazmara, and their little siblings was replaced by fervent concern.
Sanaz jerked her head at a servant, who brought a vial.
Delara drained the liquid in seconds, and her cough subsided, as well as her good humor.
She blinked heavily. The servant ushered the young prince and princess from the chamber.
Dayyan’s eyes tracked them as they left, his entire body rigid.
It wasn’t a simple cough that made them so worried. Shahdokht Delara was ill.
The shah was busy speaking with his wazir, unconcerned with what had just happened. Everyone began eating, even Sanaz. Only Dayyan and Bazmara sat still, staring at each other across the table with a troubled look.
Malikeh Madar Morvarid caught my gaze, and she motioned to the platters before me and Dayyan. I looked down, scanning the food, and my blood chilled. Two bowls filled with honey and dates faced us. The servants gave me shy glances as they ducked their heads and retreated.
“A Southern custom, is it not?” Morvarid said, breaking the silence. “For the wedded couple to feed each other dates and honey upon their first breakfast.”
I fidgeted, unease coiling in my middle. Bazmara clapped her hands.
“I learned about that too. Such a beautiful custom. The first meal, the first day, the first breath you take together.” She sighed dreamily, placing her hands beneath her chin.
She was quite beautiful, with large green eyes and rosy cheeks.
Her chadar hung loosely on her head, exposing a few dark ringlets that fell to her waist.
“You shouldn’t be so eager to learn about the South,” Sanaz said, her voice slithery and cunning.
“On the contrary, learning about your enemy is the greatest weapon you can wield. We do not slack in our education,” Morvarid returned with malice.
Shah Jihangir nodded in approval, and Sanaz lowered her head, although her mouth twisted into a scowl. Morvarid didn’t bother to linger on her small victory, returning her focus to me.
“Count it as a gift. Perform your custom.”
I glanced at Shahzadeh Dayyan, hoping he would put an end to this charade and wave the food away, but he plucked a date from the intricately painted bowl instead.
The brown date threaded with veins of gold appeared so small in his hand.
He dipped it into the glistening honey and lifted it toward me in what felt like slow agonizing seconds.
Despite my hatred for the North and its people, the moment I faltered would be my undoing.
My mouth opened, and he fed me the date.
I could have gagged at the sweetness of the honey, so sugary and false.
I chewed in careful bites, hoping I wouldn’t choke on my disgust. Shahzadeh Dayyan leaned forward, vanishing my thoughts as he brushed at the corner of my lips.
My eyes widened, and I glanced at his thumb, seeing a drop of golden honey shimmering there. I looked away with a furious blush.
Shahdokht Bazmara glanced between us, a small smile playing at her mouth. “Well, Shahdokht, won’t you return the gesture?”
The thick residue of the honey clogged my throat as I swallowed. Dayyan gave me an almost-imperceptible nod. Play along.
The jewels adorning my fingers and hand jingled as I reached for the bowl.
I took a date and dipped it into the honey.
I held the prince’s stare as I brought it to his mouth.
My nerves stuttered and my trembling betrayed me.
His hand closed over mine. He steadied my fingers, guiding them toward him.
He bit into the date, then licked the honey off his lips. I wrenched my hand free.
“Shahzadeh,” the wazir said, pulling the prince’s gaze from me.
My gratefulness for the reprieve dissolved at the wazir’s next words.
“Have preparations for the march to the Southern capital been completed?”
Any lingering warmth in me turned frigid. I felt the stares as the others attempted to gauge my reaction.
Shahzadeh Dayyan responded, his deep voice wafting around the room. “They have.”
The shah paused in his eating. “Since the jadugar’s vision of Shahdokht Farani was proven false, we can continue as planned. She will lead us to the desert roots.”
It was just as Dayyan had said when they captured me.
The North would not give us peace. The shah would destroy us one by one until he obtained what he wanted.
And this happened to be the only leverage we wielded against them.
He thought I would lead him to the wealth of my people.
But even if I knew the source of the roots, I would never tell them.
I stood abruptly, my dress fanning the marble tile.
“I would rather die.”