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

by Renée Ahdieh

When she turned around, Khalid was standing there with his shamshir at his side— His expression devoid of emotion. “That day in the courtyard,” he began. “You didn’t miss the target.” Shahrzad took a deep breath. “No. I didn’t.” He nodded. Then he sheathed his sword. Do it now. He’s unarmed. This is perfect. Even better than your original plan to ply him with wine and eventually poison him. “Shazi.” Do it. Get justice for Shiva—justice for all those girls who died as nothing, without cause or explanation. “Yes?” Loose the arrow. He took a step toward her. His gaze swept down her body, searing wherever it touched. End this. End this and go to Baba. To Irsa. To Tariq. Shahrzad tensed her grip on the weapon still nocked at her side. She inhaled, preparing to fire . . . and the frayed sinew came undone at one end. Such a worthless coward. “You are—remarkable. Every day, I think I am going to be surprised by how remarkable you are, but I am not. Because this is what it means to be you. It means knowing no bounds. Being limitless in all that you do.” With each word, he broke past every barrier, every wall. And Shahrzad’s will fought him, screamed a silent scream, while her heart welcomed the intrusion as a songbird welcomes the dawn. As the dying find grace in an answered prayer. She closed her eyes, clenching the useless bow and arrow. Shiva. When she opened them again, he was standing before her. “I didn’t like it when you called me your friend,” he said, a light in his amber ...