Read Online The Rose and the Dagger (The Wrath and the Dawn) by Renée Ahdieh - Free Book Online

“that if you’d stayed with me that night, I would have gone to see your father the next morning—”
    She opened her mouth to protest, and he resumed his silent entreaty.
    Then he stepped closer. “But it would not have been because I felt obligated to go,” Tariq said, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders, tentatively at first, then with a decisive weight. “It would have been because I did not want to wait a single day more . . . and it would have been
wrong
. My cousin had been murdered a fortnight before. My aunt had thrown herself from her balcony three days later. How could I go to your father—to my parents—and ask to marry you?”
    His features had softened while he spoke, though his voice had lost none of its intensity. In that moment, Shahrzad was reminded of how all eyes managed to stray toward him in a room, unbidden. Of how he took up too much space and never seemed to notice.
    His hands fell loose at his sides as he waited for her to collect her thoughts and speak.
    When she did, it was her turn to feel awkward and at a loss. “I—would never have expected you to do such a thing.”
    Again, a trace of amusement flashed across his face. “You continue to wound me, you awful girl. Because I know. Had I spent a single night with you, I would never have wished for us to be parted from that day forward.”
    Shahrzad wanted to stop him from speaking further. From saying anything he might regret.
    What can I do to spare him any more pain?
    But Tariq took her by the chin, resolute in his course, tipping her gaze to his.
    “Ever since the afternoon I watched you fall from the battlements at Taleqan, you’ve felt inevitable to me. That’s how much I love you.” His words were effortless. Just as always. “But you can no longer say the same about me, can you?”
    She could not look him in the eye.
    “Please answer me, Shazi,” he said. “It’s time I heard the truth. I . . . deserve to hear it.”
    When Shahrzad studied his face, she realized that—over the course of the last few days—he’d been bracing himself for this moment.
    Though it would not make it any easier for either of them.
    She exhaled slowly.
    “I do love you, Tariq.” With great care, Shahrzad settled a palm against his cheek. “But . . . he’s where I live.”
    Tariq covered her hand with one of his. Nodded once. The only acknowledgment beyond this was the smallest movement of muscle along his jaw. A staving-off of emotion that betrayed him far more than any onslaught of tears ever would.
    “I’m so sorry for hurting you,” Shahrzad whispered, the ache in her chest flooding into her throat. She pressed her free palm to his other cheek, conveying her regret through touch. Silly, she knew, but she could not fathom how else to make amends for such betrayal.
    Tariq eased back, his expression oddly distanced. “I knew you were in love with him when I saw you together in Rey. But . . . I’ve been a fool, clinging to misbegotten hope.”
    “Please know—” Shahrzad pressed her lower lip between her teeth, certain she would draw blood. “I never meant to cause you pain.”
    “My pain was my own fault. Rahim told me what you said to Teymur today—that your heart was with me, as it always would be.”
    The taste of copper and salt struck her tongue. “I—”
    “You lied to save yourself. I understand,” he said in a flat tone. “But you must know that Teymur will tell the Emir of Karaj, and the rumor will spread.”
    She blinked at him, bewildered by this sudden change of tack. Gone was any sign of vulnerability. In its place was a severe brow and a set demeanor.
    An abrupt return to the distance of before.
    “You’ll be safer in this camp—especially among the butcher-king’s enemies—if we keep up appearances,” he finished.
    Though she had little intention of staying at the camp for long, Shahrzad knew she should say something. If not in defense of herself or of Khalid, then at least in defense