Now that Amjad was singing Laylah’s praises, Rashid no longer felt like wiping the palace floor with him face-first.
Still looking where Laylah had disappeared, as if to bask in her echoes, he sighed. “Just what I was thinking. Before your insufferable, inflammatory intrusion on our privacy.”
“Insufferable, inflammatory intrusion? Can you say that five times in quick succession?” Amjad suddenly slapped him on the back. “So how did you do it?”
Struggling not to rearrange the king’s well put-together face, Rashid gritted, “Not choke you for all the insensitivities you poured on Laylah’s head? You’re only still breathing because I need you to do some talking on my behalf.”
Amjad’s guffaw was all enjoyment now. “I may like you yet.” Another back slap. “And by do it, I mean Laylah.” At Rashid’s growl, Amjad held up his hands. “To quote Laylah, ‘down boy.’ I mean—apart from her sharper-than-I-remember tongue—that was a woman fathoms deep in love. I know the symptoms well. My Maram looks and sounds like that around me.”
“It must be the era of impossibilities.”
Amjad laughed again. “Yeah, I still can’t figure out why Maram loves me. But I always figured Laylah’s obsession with you stemmed from your unavailability. Now you’re all over her, not to mention a far deteriorated version of your younger self. What’s keeping someone like her interested in someone like you?”
“If you mean my scar...”
“Please. That’s your one interesting feature. Provides you with character. Also proves you’re human, since there have been major doubts about that. Nah, it has nothing to do with what you look like, and everything to do with what you are like. You’re one dour, ruthless, unstable son of a bitch. Don’t get me wrong, it makes you my kind of guy, but how can Laylah, that perpetual ray of sunshine, stand you?”
He forced out a breath. “How does your Maram stand you?”
“She does because we’re alike. When you take away all the human traits I lack, she’s got a razor for a mind and a scythe for a tongue, too. I don’t believe in this opposites attract thing.”
“Laylah and I are not opposites. We’re very much alike, too.”
Amjad snorted again. “Now I’ve heard it all.”
“Think about it. As you pointed out, she is practically as parentless as I am. She has felt alone and out of place all her life, as I have. She’s felt responsible for other people’s crimes and punished herself for them.”
“Her mother’s crimes and your guardian’s, huh? Now that you point it out, yeah, I can see the resemblance in all the major stuff.” Amjad gave him an assessing glance. “So what’s your real plan?”
Ten
Rashid’s heart slammed against his ribs.
Amjad still suspected him? How, when he no longer had a plan?
He only had the truth to contribute. “I plan to dedicate my life to honoring her, to serving and championing her.”
“Not to loving her?” Amjad tsked. “Women are fond of this part almost to the exclusion of all else.”
And he did something he’d never thought he would: appealed to that maddening man. “You’re a man in love, Amjad. Look at me and tell me you don’t see your symptoms all over me.”
After another protracted glance, Amjad let out a laugh. “And how. The trappings of eshg—extreme and unremitting love, though they clash on you like a pink dress on a grizzly bear—are all over you. But you have something against saying the words, right?”
“The words don’t do justice to what I feel for her.”
Amjad huffed again. “Been there, done that. And you’ll invent new ways and words to transmit the enormity of your feelings. But those simple words, with the truth of your emotions behind them, have a way of transmitting exactly how you feel to your loved one. So word of advice—don’t leave it too long without saying them, or she might have trouble getting comfortable hearing or believing them when you finally do.”
It was Rashid’s turn to scoff. “Now I’ve heard everything. You, giving me romantic advice?”
“That’s for the cousin and sister who was the only beacon of brightness in this gloomy place for over two decades.” Amjad suddenly made a hurrying gesture. “C’mon. Grovel already.”
Giving Amjad a look that said he would make him grovel someday, Rashid said, “I ask that you gather the Aal Shalaan family tribunal to sanction giving me Laylah’s hand in marriage.”
A “gotcha” smile split Amjad’s face. “You really are stuck in some desert knight folktale, aren’t you? ‘Tribunal’, indeed.”
Rashid counted to ten. “It’s your family tradition.”
“Tradition bladition. I’m King of Zohayd, pal. I play chess with those tribunal members. Just wait until I’m making them jump three diagonal moves ahead then back.”
“So it’s your decision that counts. Zain. Make your demands.”
Amjad poked a finger at Rashid’s temple, rapped it three times. “Any rudimentary sense of humor in there?”
Rashid swatted his hand away. “I’ll snark your head off, Ya Maolai, as soon as Your Majesty approves my proposal. Or knock it off if you refuse it.”
Amjad raised his arms up theatrically. “He lives!” One of his arms suddenly came around Rashid’s shoulder, leading him toward the main palace hall. “Just because I now have hope that you won’t bore Laylah to the point where she’d plot to be rid of you, I’ll consider your proposal. But first, about those seven tasks...”
He knocked Amjad’s arm off his shoulder. “No wonder your ex-wife tried to off you.”
Amjad’s grin was as unrepentant as ever. “She did when I had some propriety. Imagine what she would have done now.”
“Shoot you, most probably.”
“Is that what you feel like doing?”
“I would gladly kill anyone who would stand between me and Laylah. Or at least make him wish he was dead. Care to try?”
Amjad pretended horror. “You’ll add me to your inventory of revenge? Will I tail the list after Haidar and Jalal?”
“Come between Laylah and I, and you’ll reserve your spot at the top.”
Amjad stuck his face into his. “You think you can take me?”
“I don’t think. I know. And there wouldn’t be much left of you once I’m done. And you know it.”