The Wrath & the Dawn (The Wrath and the Dawn, #1)

by Renée Ahdieh

“Are you a fool for the rain, like Jalal?” “No. I’m—just a fool.”

How could a boy with legions of secrets behind walls of ice and stone burn her with nothing more than his touch?

“What are you doing?”

“Exercising restraint.” “Why?” “Because I failed to do so in the souk.”

“Does that matter?” “Yes,...

“Do you want...

“We’ve done this ...

“It’s not the same. It won’t b...

At last, she had discovered a real weakness. It was her.

“Strong enough to take on the world with our bare hands, yet we permit ridiculous boys to make fools of us.”

When you meet the one who makes you smile as you’ve never smiled before, cry as you’ve never cried before . . . there is nothing to do but fall.”

“On pain of death . . . you are as important to him as his own life.”

“So you would have me throw Shazi to the wolves?” “Shazi?”

“Honestly, I pity the wolves.”

Of his will . . . crumbling.

“I know very little, and I still know more than you, Khalid-jan. I know love is fragile. And loving someone like you is near impossible. Like holding something shattered through a raging sandstorm. If you want her to love you, shelter her from that storm . . .”

“Is it so arrogant to want something that doesn’t change with the wind? That doesn’t crumble at the first sign of adversity?”

“I suspect she will be like air. Like knowing how to breathe.”

“Don’t do that, my lady. You ruin your face when you do that,”

“Good evening, Jalal. And I disagree,”

“Now, that . . . ruins nothing,”

“At last, we agree on something.”

And only those watching very carefully saw the Caliph of Khorasan lean back against the cushions and toy with the bangles on his wife’s arm.

Shahrzad and the boy-king shared an understanding that did not require words.

“Strike out at me if you wish, Shazi. Do whatever you will. But don’t inflict the selfsame wound; don’t leave.”

Joonam. He’d called her that before. My everything.

At the first hint of an unforeseen threat, he pulled Shahrzad behind him. He shielded her in a menacing stance augmented by the metallic rasp of his shamshir, which he held steady in his right hand, with the blade pointed to the floor— Poised to attack.

Just this morning, he had stood in the open-air gallery of Khalid’s palace and made veiled threats against Shahrzad. Khalid had expected as much, but it did not affect him any less to bear witness to it.

“Some things exist in our lives for but a brief moment. And we must let them go on to light another sky.”

You can watch her die, just like your mother.” Khalid froze in time. Then Shahrzad watched his face shatter. The eyes of molten amber faded to dull memory. Faded to ruin. His raw anguish seared her soul and robbed her of breath. The bloodstained shamshir fell to his side. “I will kill you for that,”

Khalid’s heart thudded around her, loud and fast. It raced against her cheek, each beat an unspoken promise.

“I want to send you away. To a place where none of this can touch you,”

“I meant that I cannot keep you safe. From anything.”

“My answer is not an answer. It is a willingness to do whatever it takes—even something as distasteful as sending you from my side.”

“You’re my wife. They are hurting you because of me.”

“How right you are. You are not mine.”

“I am yours.”

“It’s a fitting punishment for a monster. To want something so much—to hold it in your arms—and know beyond a doubt you will never deserve it.”

How does one begin to apologize for robbing the world of light? Words seem strangely insufficient in such a case, and yet I fall to their uselessness in my own inadequacy. Please know I will never forget Shiva. For the brief moment she stared into the face of a monster, she deigned to smile and forgive. In that smile, I sensed a strength and a depth of understanding I could never hope to fathom. It tore at what professes to be my soul. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. A thousand, thousand times. At your knees, and it will never be enough.

And now I can’t find the words to say what must be said. To convey to you the least of what I owe. When I think of you, I can’t find the air to

Khalid had to answer for such vile deeds. Such rampant death. Even if he was her air. Even if she loved him beyond words.

“All for the sake of a girl—one of so many.” At that, the frayed strands of Khalid’s composure tore apart,

“Love is—a shade of what I feel.”

She was a dangerous, dangerous girl. A plague. A Mountain of Adamant who tore the iron from ships, sinking them to their watery graves without a second thought. With a mere smile and a wrinkle of her nose. But even knowing this, he surrendered to her pull. Succumbed to the simple need to be by her side.

Whatever torment he had to endure. Whatever evil he had to face. There was nothing that mattered more.

“My wife stays.”

Revenge won’t replace what I’ve lost.”

“There is no situation in which I will consider it.”

He would never be a man who failed to care again. He would fight to protect what mattered to him, at all cost. Save the one thing that mattered most.

“I took her from you. Nothing I do, nothing I say will ever fix what I’ve done. If there has to be a choice between us, there isn’t one to make, joonam. Not for me.”