The Bodyguard
A flicker of annoyance touched Banu Atefeh’s mouth when she was finally allowed into the chamber.
She bowed her head to Shahzadeh Dayyan and bestowed a curt nod upon me.
Dayyan had changed into his day robes. Black, of course, from head to foot.
His robes were buckled closed and ended above his knees, freeing his trousered legs for wide movements.
I had changed into a dress Esana brought from my chamber in the harem—a yellow dress with sleeves that draped from my elbows to the ground.
Yellow stones dotted the bust like small suns whenever the light caught them.
The fabric ended above my feet, allowing my golden slippers their moment of glory.
My chadar hung over my hair, which I’d left in a simple braid running down my back.
At Esana’s urging, I had also donned twinkling gold earrings that dangled from my ears like stars.
She had pulled several strands of hair from my scarf to frame my face, giving me a wink as she whispered, “The shahzadeh will love this look.”
I had nearly rolled my eyes. After sending for a healer to tend to my burn, the man himself had retaken his place on the toshak, enveloped in a book as he waited for me to finish.
I glanced at him several times while Esana assisted me to see if I caught him watching, but he never moved.
Any attraction Esana noticed was dreamed up.
Shahzadeh Dayyan cared for the secret he thought I held.
It was the only reason he was so intent on keeping me alive.
If he wanted to take advantage of me, he’d had plenty of chances and no one to stop him.
But clearly, he had other prisoners he would rather abuse.
Though I was grateful he hadn’t laid a hand on me, some part of me was vexed at his complete lack of interest. If he had married Farani .
. . I cast aside thoughts of my cousin’s ethereal beauty and buried my envy before it could sprout.
The door closed as Esana left, and Banu Atefeh cleared her throat.
“Now, are we prepared to begin?”
Dayyan clasped his hands behind his back, his posture straight and perfect. By his bland expression, I could tell he wanted to go on with his day and be anywhere other than here, assisting with my lessons on wifehood and ladyship.
“In the harem, all jawahar are required to know how to equip and dress the shahzadeh they serve. They must know his weapons of choice and where he places them. But you,” Banu Atefeh stressed.
“You must be even more aware than the common jewel. You are the wife of a prince. You must have knowledge of his waking habits, his food preferences, his choice of scents.”
I shifted, daring a glance at Dayyan. He seemed unperturbed.
“We will begin with arming your shahzadeh in preparation for battle, or in this case, Shahzadeh Dayyan’s daily wear. With your permission, of course, shahzadem.”
Dayyan nodded, and Banu Atefeh motioned to the table. The breakfast had been cleared away, replaced by a belt and at least fifteen gleaming weapons. My brows rose. Where did he conceal them all? I had only ever noticed a shamshir and a few daggers on him.
I stepped to the table, examining them, and took the belt.
I returned to Dayyan’s side and lifted it, wrapping it around his waist while ignoring the closeness between us.
Once I finished with the laces, I retrieved his shamshir.
The blade slid into his sheath with a soft rasp.
The chamber was silent other than the sounds of my shuffling feet and our breaths.
His scent was everywhere, the calming fragrance disarming my defenses.
I peered at his other weapons, returned with a long dagger, and gestured him to turn.
Dayyan’s lips tilted up the slightest bit as he complied, and I placed the dagger into the sheath hanging sideways at his lower back.
The remaining blades were thin and small enough to go unnoticed, which was likely what Dayyan wanted.
I grasped a handful of them, and that tiny almost smile still cut through his lips as he watched me attempt to figure out the knives’ resting places.
Banu Atefeh’s frequent sighs reminded me of her presence.
I knew she was holding herself back with every ounce of decorum not to interfere.
Dayyan lifted his arms, revealing slits in the sleeves of his robes.
Clever, I admitted to myself before shifting close and sheathing the knives.
Minutes later, sweat beaded across my forehead.
Only one knife remained. I slapped the blade across my palm as I searched for the last sheath.
I squinted, noticing the edge of what could be a sheath peeking out from beneath the cloth covering his chest. I stepped close, sliding the knife across as I attempted to shift it into his robe.
Dayyan’s hand shot up, grabbing hold of my wrist. My eyes locked with his.
“Attempting to kill me, Shahdokht?”
“It’s a wonder you haven’t killed yourself with all these weapons,” I replied.
“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors.” His fingers tightened. “The prince of death is never found without a weapon.”
Of course I knew the rumors. The executioner of the North, a man of shadows. If he came near enough, you would see stars in the metal of his blades.
“No one comes this close unless I allow it.” He yanked me closer as if to emphasize his words. I gasped, pressing my free hand to his chest to prevent myself from colliding with him. “No adversary has ever known the location of my weapons and remained living.”
We were mere inches apart. Banu Atefeh could have been a painting in the chamber for all that we noticed her.
Dayyan’s eyes were unwavering and a bit unsettling.
His thumb stroked my wrist, awakening a strange thrum in my chest. He tilted my hand, bringing it nearer until it disappeared into his robe.
The knife slid into the sheath. My heart pounded as every part of me pressed against him.
His focus dropped, lingering on my lips.
Haze clouded my vision as an unwelcome anticipation filled me.
I searched for my stubborn hatred for the North and forced some clarity into my fogged mind.
I wrenched my hand back, but he held firm.
“But what is it that the wise elders say?” Dayyan whispered, leaning in, the stubble of his beard brushing my cheekbone. I shivered at his low tone. “Keep your friends close. And your enemies closer.”
He dropped his hold. I stumbled back, startled and cold like a bucket of ice water had drenched me. Shahzadeh Dayyan turned to Banu Atefeh.
“Today’s lesson is over.”
She nodded, eyes narrowed and brow furrowed as she retreated from the chamber. Dayyan left shortly after. I remained standing until the door shut and then crumpled onto the toshak. I gripped my face, berating myself for my mindlessness. How could I have faltered? Even for a moment.
Dayyan was right. We were enemies, and that was all we would ever be.