Page 82 of Silver Angel

“Did you have him hung from the palace gate?” Derek asked Omar.

They were on the way back to Jamil’s apartments after a morning spent in the audience chamber, a long morning, since it was only Derek’s second attempt at dealing with the foreign dignitaries in his brother’s stead. The first time he’d been nervous about meeting men of importance who had dealt with Jamil before and could so easily detect any difference in his behavior. But he’d handled it rather well this time, being more comfortable with the role he was playing. He’d even seen more petitioners than he’d planned on, though he had refrained from making any concessions without Omar’s advice to guide him.

The older man frowned at the question, his expression indicating he was still touchy over the subject of last night’s assassination attempt. “Yes, he is hung out to rot where all can see as they come and go from the palace. But no one has come forward to collect the reward for identifying him.”

“Did you really think they would? At this point in the game, it would take a fool to admit to knowing anyone even remotely involved, let alone one of the actual assassins. And the story has probably spread far and wide already that another one has failed in the attempt. That’s two since I have been here, and how many more before that?”

“Five attempts, eleven dead,” Omar grunted.

“There you are. They are bound to get discouraged eventually, just from sheer loss of numbers.”

“Or more desperate and suicidal.”

“Come, now, the money behind this plot has to run out sometime. You will have to agree that the risk is too great to come cheap.”

“Selim left Barikah bitter, not poor. But you are right about the risk being great, though it is no greater than the unnecessary one you have been taking. You prefer the danger, don’t you?”

“Do I look crazy?”

“You look like a man thoroughly enjoying himself,” Omar replied disgustedly.

Derek chuckled. “So you have found me out. But it’s no more than a little excitement to break the monotony.”

“I thought the woman was all the excitement you needed. Or did you use her only as an excuse to leave yourself vulnerable to attack?”

Derek grinned despite Omar’s very real displeasure. “It was exactly as I said. Shahar could never have relaxed in my company with those Nubians looking over my shoulder. But no harm was done last night.” At Omar’s fierce glower, Derek laughed again. “Let it go, old friend. I promise to be alive and kicking when Jamil returns.”

“Inshallah,” Omar retorted before leaving him.

There was that, but Derek no longer believed wholeheartedly in the concept that every man’s fate was predestined. Muslims did, however. It was what led them fearless into battle, the belief that if it was their time to die they would, and if not, nothing could harm them. He liked to think his own destiny was a little more controllable, that his own skill and decisions could alter its course.

But Omar was right insomuch as Derek had welcomed that little skirmish in the desert last week, just as he had thrived on the challenge last night. It wasn’t that he needed life-threatening danger. He really wasn’t suicidal. He just needed excitement of any kind to keep him from falling into the same rut Jamil had experienced.

Jamil at least had had normal business to attend to. But it had occurred to Derek just this morning that with no real responsibilities, no actual decisions to make or worry over, he had nothing of importance to occupy his time. It was no wonder, then, that his concentration had focused on a woman. Could that be the sole reason for his obsession, why he had madeherso important? It was likely, and it went a long way toward relieving his mind. When it was time to leave, it wouldn’t be that difficult for him to put this episode of his life behind him. He would remember Shahar fondly, but that was all.

In his rooms, Derek motioned his dresser forward to shed him of the raiments of office. The rest of the day was free now, and he had every intention of sleeping through part of it. But that was not to be. He was informed a servant from the harem was waiting to see him, and he finally noticed the girl cowering in a corner, fearful of actually being in the Dey’s presence.

Derek sighed in genuine irritation. “I had very little sleep last night. I haven’t even eaten yet today. Can this not wait?”

Hearing that, his own attendant dismissed the girl immediately, and she was more than happy to have the matter taken out of her hands, running in her haste to vacate the room. Derek frowned at that.

“What was she afraid of?”

His dresser shrugged. “She was probably the bearer of bad news. Your brother Mahmud was famous for imprisoning, and sometimes executing, anyone who brought him news he did not care to hear.”

Derek’s frown darkened. “Go find out what that was about, then.”

The man returned in a moment, hesitant himself now to deliver the message. “She was sent by the eunuch Kadar, my lord. Your slave Shahar has been…poisoned.”

“God, no!” The color drained from Derek’s face. “She can’t be dead!”

“She is not…yet, but—”

He didn’t wait to hear the rest, calling over his shoulder as he rushed out of the room, “Send my own physicians to the harem immediately!”

“But, my lord, they cannot enter—”

Derek ran the length of the corridor that the women used to reach the Dey’s apartments. He stopped when he caught up with Kadar’s messenger, and then only because he didn’t want to waste time asking directions. He knew how to reach the Pink Court from childhood, but not where Shahar’s rooms would be.