Get up, Shahrzad al-Khayzuran. You kneel before no one. Least of all me.

This dangerous girl. This captivating beauty.
This destroyer of worlds and creator of wonder.

Love is—a shade of what I feel.

There is no one I would rather see the sunrise with than you.

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.

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.