He stood outside her doors. Torn. It was a familiar stance for him of late. He despised it. Khalid ignored the Rajput’s knowing grin as he began his trek toward his chamber. As usual, the bodyguard’s sense of humor was ill-timed and ill-bred. Each step Khalid took echoed down the corridors of shadow and stone. The callous granite and blue-veined agate of his palace had provided little but a refuge for the screams of ghosts. A haven for nightmares . . . Until Shahrzad. A true plague of a girl. And yet a queen in every sense of the word. His queen.
