The Sultan and the Storyteller by Lichelle Slater

Sixteen

I ran as fast as I could through the palace, attempting not to draw too much attention while trying to get to Zayne as quickly as possible. I’d wrapped the book in my scarf and held it with the parchments against my chest and Zayne’s amulet in my hand.

Kiara hurried alongside me. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to tell Zayne everything. You should go. Father might get suspicious if he sees us both speaking with Zayne, and I don’t want you caught in his anger.”

She frowned. “That’s hardly a reason to make me leave.”

“Kiara.” I looked at her. “If he gets angry at both of us, we don’t know if it might be the last thing to make him lose control. If I fail, you have to be the one to get help and stop him.”

“Fine. I’ll go. But if you need to escape, you better make it to me.”

I stopped walking just long enough to give her a side hug. “Now go. I love you.”

She kissed my cheek. “I love you too.”

Returning my attention to warning Zayne, I didn’t watch Kiara leave but walked deliberately to his office. I knocked and dabbed my sleeve to my forehead to take away the shine from running.

The door swung inward and Father’s brows lifted in surprise. “Shahira.”

I imagined I gave him the same look, but quickly relaxed. “I wish a word in private with my husband.” I gave the best smile I could muster and tried to step around my father, but he didn’t budge.

“I’m afraid the sultan is busy at the moment.”

I looked up into my father’s eyes and squeezed the scarf in my arms. “I have a right to speak with Zayne.”

Father looked over his shoulder, seemingly toward Zayne, who suddenly said, “Let her in.”

Father stepped aside, allowing the door to fully open.

Zayne sat at his desk and was adjusting the buttons of his tunic, which had no sleeves. “Unwelcoming hot day, isn’t it? Even with the breeze?” He looked at the window.

It was stifling in his office.

“If you leave the door open, that might help the air move a bit better,” I recommended.

Zayne’s gaze was distant and he ran his fingers through his hair before tying it up on his head. “What did you need, Shahira? Khorshid and I have some important business.”

“I can’t say whether or not your business is more important than mine, but I insist we have a few minutes alone.” I sat across from him, looking at him fervently with my brows raised and trying to gesture with my eyes toward the lump in my arms. After all, it was Zayne who had shown me Father’s study, and he knew what I’d been doing all day.

Zayne leaned back in his chair and turned to me finally. But his eyes . . . they were back to being like they had been when I first met him—cold and off-putting. Father had undoubtedly been working his way back into Zayne’s mind, and without his griffin charm to protect him, the magic was penetrating.

I straightened my spine and looked at my father. “You may return in an hour.”

“An hour? Your Majesty, surely the queen should be spending her day in the library rather than bothering you with her nonsense.”

“Zayne, this isn’t nonsense,” I insisted.

Zayne massaged his temple with his forefinger. “I’ll give you half an hour, Shahira. Khorshid, go fetch something cool to drink. We both need it on a day like today.”

My father bowed and left, but he threw me a warning look prior to closing the door behind him.

I walked over and dropped the bundle on Zayne’s desk. “You told me to go search my father’s study last night to see if I could uncover what is happening in the palace. After what I found, I know it is my father.”

Zayne scowled. “Your father is the shadow?”

“No.” I opened the scarf, revealing the dark book. “This details how my father collected a staff, bound an ifrit, and is now using that ifrit to possess you and murder your wives. He chose each of them because they wielded power.” I scooted to the edge of my seat and pushed the parchments with Father’s handwriting on them. “He chose sorceresses because he’s stealing their power. Zayne, he only needs the death of one more sorceress to achieve that goal. Jade was supposed to be that death, but I intervened.”

Zayne slowly drew in a breath and shook his head before rising to his feet, clearly contemplating the information. “To level such accusations against my vizier when he has done so much for me—”

“Zayne, he is using you.” I dug into my pocket and produced the griffin amulet, then stood and approached him with it in my hand. “He stole this from you so you can’t resist his power.”

“It’s a necklace.”

My brows pinched. “It’s an enchanted amulet. Your father’s amulet.”

My husband’s jaw flexed and he glanced at the door, then back to me. “He warned me about you,” he finally said.

I blanched. “I beg your pardon?”

He gripped my wrist, the one holding the charm, and pushed me backward until I was against the wall. “I’ve been thinking a lot about strange things happening in the palace since you arrived. The shadows, the magic, spending less time performing my royal duties and more time with you, but most importantly the fact I never killed you. That and you being a sorceress, one I clearly never should have trusted.”

“You’re hurting my arm.”

“Are you a sorceress?” he repeated more firmly, demanding my confession.

“The only magic I use is to help you sleep at night.”

He slammed his hand against the wall beside my head, making the pictures rattle. “Don’t lie to me!” He twisted my wrist and pressed it against my chest.

In the moment of his anger, I saw my childhood and the man I’d once called my father. As those nightmares flooded back, held my ground and narrowed my eyes. This wasn’t Zayne. This was my father’s influence.

“You will release me and back away,” I said, my magic burning my tongue.

He shook his head and blinked. Confusion darkened his brow and he looked down at the hand holding me before taking an abrupt step backward. “Shahira. I don’t know . . . I didn’t mean . . .”

I felt a tear slide down my cheek and dodged around him. And as I passed, I slipped the amulet into his pocket. I grabbed the book and parchments, then walked around him to the door.

Zayne didn’t move, but reached out to me. “Shahira—”

“I refuse to share your bed tonight,” I said firmly. My hands were shaking so horribly I couldn’t tie the knot and hugged the bundle to my chest.

He stepped toward me, but I backed up and he stopped. “You can’t leave. I am your sultan.” My father’s anger crept back inside of him.

“And I am your queen!” I shouted back. My legs trembled so violently, I didn’t know how I was still standing. “I am your wife! But most importantly, your friend.” My voice cracked. “You know me. We’ve known each other since childhood. And you’ll trust a snake over me.”

Zayne shook his head. “Your father said that wasn’t true. You’re full of nothing but lies!”

I lifted my trembling chin and left the room.

“Shahira. Shahira, please wait!” Zayne called after me. “I’m sorry!”

I ran from him.