Fool,she thought.My beautiful, trusting fool.
"My Lord.If this is a trap—if I've brought you here to die—what would you do?"
He considered the question casually.
"I would hope," he said finally, "that you had a reason."
Her voice wavered."Would you forgive me?”
The corners of his eyes crinkled, as if he were smiling.“Khatun, how could I not?”
Her heart cracked.She looked down at the goblet.At her hands, still resting on the table.At the faint tremor she couldn't quite hide.
His gaze followed hers.Settled on the wine.
"Khatun."His voice was quiet."Is this a trap?"
She didn't answer.Couldn't.The words lodged in her throat like needles.
He waited.
Around them, the night was still.The archers waited in the trees, arrows nocked, ready to shoot at the first sign of trouble.
"If this is a trap," he said softly, "then I walked into it with my eyes open.I trusted you.I still trust you.Whatever happens next—" He squeezed her hand."That doesn't change."
Azul's eyes burned.
She pushed the goblet toward him, hand on the rim.
"Drink," she whispered.
He looked at the wine.“Is this poison?”
She nodded, and then she forced herself to look at him.To take in everything, no matter how painful.
He glanced at her hand.
“Why are you shaking?”
She looked down; yes, her hand was trembling, ever so slightly.
“Are you afraid?”He asked.
She dared not look at him.
They were quiet for a moment, and then he sighed and raised her hand.
“Look away; I lack courage, Khatun,” he said quietly.
She did as told.
“I am not like you.I cannot bear for you to see me as what I am, a man disgraced so thoroughly; this scar was given as a reminder.”
Pain was stitched through every word and every breath, and the more he spoke, the less he could control his tone.An insecurity that ran so deep he could not bring himself to face her.She noticed his fists at his side, blanched so terribly it must’ve hurt.
She took a breath."I too, lack courage," she whispered."My Lord, would you pray for me?"
She needed the strength to gamble.To play this game to the end.
