While the Barmakis remained entrenched in a war council with the Emirs in the hall of private audience, Khayzuran ran from where she sat in a little alcove by the hall's entrance to the western gate of the residence, where she knew Tahir would come. It was almost an hour later that he arrived, and he could not hide his shock at seeing her there.
She watched him dismount, hand the stable boy his horse, and approach her apprehensively.
"I thought Khalid was concocting stories when he told me you had somehow 'escaped' from the harem," he said. They fell into step beside each other easily, mentor and student. "Where is Yahya?"
"He is in a war council, trying to discuss where to move security in the east and the north. It's not important," she said, impatient. "We must go to Prince Rehan at once, I will take you there."
Tahir's expression turned grave. He had only a vague image of his injury from the letter Sharan had sent, but the tone of it—erratic and genuinely afraid—made him rush his way to Rey at twice their normal speed, hardly letting the horses rest or drink, hardly sleeping through the night.
"How is he faring?"
"He was on the verge, but he survived the first night, and the second. He has an excellent physician."
They quickened their pace once they entered the halls, Khaya leading them swiftly onward to where she knew Rehan lay. Even when all was quiet and the room was unguarded she had not dared enter, and now, the door itself loomed like a mountain in front of her, insurmountable and vast.
The shadow was there when they turned into the hall, standing with his hands behind his back and staring at the opposite wall as if it were the most entertaining slab of marble he had ever lain eyes on. He noticed their approach, noticed Yahya was not with them.
"Zala sahib, this is Commander Tahir al-Barmaki," she said.
The shadow bowed. "I know who he is," he said pointedly to her.
"Is he...?"
"He is asleep."
"Good, that will make my work easier," said Tahir. He moved past the shadow, as if the man was nothing but a column of air, and put his hand on the knob. The shadow looked at his hand, then back at Khaya, and seemed to make a decision on his own.
They stepped inside the dimly lit room to find Amina in the middle of changing one of the wound compresses. The room was strewn with used supplies and completely disheveled despite the regular procession of servants and maids who came in and out to clean it. Khaya froze by the door. Amina's body was shielding her view of Rehan's torso as they were now. Her heart thudded in her chest as Tahir greeted her, and she turned away from her task. They seemed to have a disagreement for a moment, but Khaya was not concerned. She was watching the edge of Amina's sleeve where it covered Rehan's upper arm. She saw something there, something purple.
Amina moved suddenly, and Khaya lowered her gaze. The shadow, who stood beside her, watched her peculiar behaviourwith interest.
"Do you want to remain outside?"
"No," she said.
"Very well."
Tahir shuffled around so he had a better view of the wound. The physician had been careful and consistent with the Prince's care these past days, he noted. He placed his palm against the wounded shoulder, and Rehan groaned in response. He was still in profound pain.
"Please step back," he said to Amina, who had begun to hover. She reluctantly took a few steps back, but still leaned forward to see as much as she possibly could.
Tahir breathed deeply, closed his eyes and channeled into the wound. His power threaded through the torn, burned flesh that had been crudely cauterized, the shallow cuts and painful bruises that marred his entire body. It was almost imperceptible, but ever so slowly the colour of the wounds began to change from deep red to dark brown, to pale pink. They shrunk in size and length until the pulsing exposed flesh had puckered into scars. Amina and the shadow looked on with morbid fascination, utterly shocked by what they were seeing.
It was a half hour before he finally decided to stop. Many of the smaller cuts had completely disappeared, replaced with smooth brown skin, but the chest wound had been deep, requiring extensive repair beneath the cauterized layer. A long, brutal scar had formed, starting from the end of his collar bone on his left shoulder and meandering down to the middle of his pectoral.
"I can do no more, the scars will remain," Tahir finally said, lifting his hands. His skin looked pale, his breath shallower than before.
Rehan's heart beat stronger, his blood flowed quicker. Khayzuran lifted her chin and allowed herself to look. Rehan's curls were plastered to his forehead from sweat, his lips were gently parted, head tilted slightly to the side. It was what she imagined the sleeping dead to look like.
The scar was hideous and ugly, but she did not look away. Part of her felt a stab of pain in her own shoulder, her own chest, imagining what it was like for a knife to slice that deep into a body. But she did not look away.
Tahir had sat on the diwan to rest. Amina was still as death, reeling from the shock. The shadow hid his surprise better.
"He will still be in pain, better to continue with giving him oral pain killers," Tahir said. It was directed at Amina, but everyone nodded. He stood, still exhausted from the long exertion, and made to leave.
"Wait..." Amina put her hand on his arm, and he looked pointedly at it. The Barmakis were not used to being handled by others. Amina did not seem to notice his chilly gaze. "Can I ask how you did that?"
"No, you may not." He pulled free, breezing past the shadow and out into the hall. "Khayzuran sahiba," he called over his shoulder. "Stay with him, zala, you come with me."
Khaya did not turn around to acknowledge his command, she simply nodded once. The door shut, and the two women were drenched in silence.
"Who are you?" Amina finally asked.
Her brow furrowed. Such a simple question, but what could she say?
"I am the daughter of a Jorashi ink maker."
"I am Prince al-Mahdi's royal concubine."
"I am a spy for the Barmaki family."
"I am the veiled serpent."
She moved closer to the edge of the bed and settled herself on the floor, reaching her hand out to touch Rehan's. It was warm and calloused with life.
"I am his."
X
Rehan could no longer dream. In the thin veil between sleep and wake he conjured images, dream realities to escape into, but as he reached for them they slipped past his fingers like wind, or were swallowed up into the ground like water, and he was left in raging blackness again. Sleep was the only escape from pain, but even in that there was little respite. There was no sense of time, only pain and not pain. What little strength he managed to muster when speaking to Firaz and the Barmakis during their intimate war council was sapped moments after they left the room. His eyes grew blurry and spotted as the nerves in his chest seized, he could not think. It was physical torture, even with every balm and tincture and herb Amina made him swallow. When he miraculously had space for a thought, all he prayed for was deliverance.
The blackness was slowly fading now, and he waited for the pain to return. It always started as just a pinch, a pinprick, but within just a few breaths it turned into clawing, vicious agony. He took a breath, then another, his eyes slowly peeled open and the ceiling came into focus. There was the pinch, the pinprick. He held his breath as long as he could for this brief reprieve, and then released it slowly, clenching his jaw for the pain he knew would follow.
The prick deepened slightly, then spread into a throbbing ache. This was not the pain of live flames inside his skin. He took a deep breath and the pain eased slightly.
He tilted his head to look for Amina, his mouth was dry as sand. There was something weighing down his arm. He looked down and saw her cradling his hand against her cheek, asleep. Even with a veil covering her hair, her face turned away, he knew it was Khayzuran. He knew the shape of her jaw, the softness of her skin and touch of her fingertips. He knew it like a rakat, like the words of the Throne Verse.
He flexed his fingers, gently touched her cheek, and an aching breath escaped his lips. She was real. It wasn't a dream. After a time she began to stir against his touch, she lifted herself up and wiped the sleep from her eyes, even stifled a yawn hidden behind her veil. Rehan moved to touch her hand, afraid she would walk away, but a shooting pain went up through his arm. He needed one of Amina's tinctures.
"Khayzuran," he whispered.
She turned, and he watched as her bloodshot eyes filled with tears. He wanted to wipe them away and pull her against him and never let go.
"I'm so—"
"Forgive me—" they both started.
There was so much emotion in his chest he felt he would burst into flames. He opened his palm and she came closer to take it, sitting beside him on the bed.
"What happened? The pain, it's—"
"Tahir came."
Rehan closed his eyes in blessed relief. "God bless that man."
Khayzuran suddenly pulled her hand away and stood. She moved to the other end of the room and rummaged around one of the tables, then returned with a small glass bottle in her hand. "Amina said to give you this when you awoke."
He slowly moved to sit up, ignoring the pulsing pain in his shoulder as he reached for the bottle. In this at least he could help himself. The scent of spiced honey and herbs enveloped him as he swallowed the bitter concoction in one gulp. He sighed and leaned forward until his forehead was touching Khayzuran's. There was so much he had to say, but he did not know where to begin.
"Yahya told me everything," he said.
"I know." Her voice was fragile as glass.
He gently placed his hands on either side of her neck and pulled away so he could look her in the eye. Her tears had wet the top edge of her veil, colouring it dark grey.
"When I saw you that night, my world crumbled around me. I thought that every moment between us was a fabrication for your own end. I thought Yahya, my closest friend and brother, had betrayed me. It was worse than the pain of this wound." He looked down at his chest. "I should have trusted Yahya, I should have known it was an impossibility for him to ever go against me."
She shook her head. "You believed your own eyes, I can't fault you for it."
"I never should have laid a hand on you Khaya. I can't forgive myself for it." She felt his grip releasing, and her hands moved to keep his against her.
"I would forgive you anything, Rehan. Anything. It is we who should not have lied to you."
Yahya had said she would. Had she heard them when he said it? Of course, she must have, with her gift. The thought left Rehan exposed, just as he often felt with Yahya.
This time it was she who leaned towards him, one hand reached out and touched his cheek. "I love you," she whispered.
His eyes stung, not from pain in his body but in his heart. "You do not know who I am, Khayzuran." he said. He inhaled a shaky breath and closed his eyes. "You do not know the thing I become, how evil and wretched I have been in my life on this earth. The lives I have taken in their thousands. Not my armies or my soldiers, me alone."
"I have seen it, Rehan, and I still choose to love you, even the parts of you that you believe are too forsaken to be loved. And I will say it over and over again until you believe me." She came closer still, until he could feel the outline of her lips against his through her veil.
"I love you," she mouthed against him.
How he wanted to pull off her veil and drown in her.
"Please."
He felt like someone's hand was around his neck. "I am afraid, Khayzuran," he whispered against her. "I am afraid of losing you before I even get the chance to love you."
"You will never lose me. I will do everything in my power to stay by your side."
Tears budded from the corner of his eyelids. "On my journey here I thought of you constantly. I missed you every waking moment, and when I slept, I dreamed of you. I loved you every moment we were together, Khayzuran. And I've loved you every moment we were apart. I am so sorry it became like this."
"I'm sorry too—" Suddenly Khayzuran pulled away and stood. She quickly dabbed at her eyes with the edge of her veil. "Yahya and Sharan are coming," she said.
Rehan's chest swelled with anticipation, but the door remained shut. She could hear them, he realized. They must have still been a ways off.
Khaya turned pensive. "I think they have found Abu Musa."
A smile tugged at Rehan's mouth. "Excellent."