Disclaimer: I'm sorry this chapter is a little shorter than the first. I will try to make sure Chapter 3 is longer. Thank you to all those readers who have commented and voted.
Shariyar's amber eyes opened with the first rays of the rising sun. The first thing he noticed was that the girl was not in his arms.
The king shot up in bed and glanced agitatedly around the room. The girl was nowhere to be seen. Shariyar threw off the covers and wrapped himself in his robe as he began to search the chamber. She was not in the bathing room, she had not found her way into the queen's quarters... Shariyar was about to storm out into the corridor and question his guards when he realised he had not checked the balcony.
Shariyar walked out onto the balcony, nervous for a moment that the girl had jumped. Instead he found her curled up in a corner, wrapped in the towel he had given her the night before.
"Wake up, gypsy," Shariyar said gruffly.
Scheherazade's eyes fluttered open and she looked around dazedly.
"Do you not remember making the decision to sleep out here?" Shariyar asked, his brow furrowing.
The girl grimaced as she pulled herself to her feet. Her head was pounding from dehydration and she swayed slightly as she stood before the king.
"May I have some water?" She asked, her voice hoarse.
"Answer me first."
"I just wanted to be beneath the stars," she murmured.
"You won't eat off the ground but given the choice between the floor and a bed, you'd choose the former," Shariyar taunted disdainfully. "You're a foolish girl."
He turned on his heel and walked inside, gesturing to a bottle on the table. Scheherazade poured herself a glass of water and sat down at the table, downing three glasses in quick succession as Shariyar dressed for the day.
When the king was fully clothed he turned his attention back on the girl: "You had a nightmare last night."
Scheherazade swallowed and turned her wide eyes away from Shariyar.
"Do you remember?"
The girl shook her head, staring pointedly at her knees.
"Fine," Shariyar muttered.
"I don't," Scheherazade said staunchly.
"Was it me?" Shariyar asked, pulling Scheherazade to her feet roughly. "Huh? Were you dreaming about me?"
"You wish," Scheherazade whispered angrily. "You could never live up to the man in my nightmares."
"Watch me try," Shariyar scowled.
"Why would you want to?" Scheherazade asked, her eyes blazing. "He was a monster. He deserved his death a thousand times over."
"I am well on my way to deserving the same," Shariyar said. His voice was thick with anger but, just before he turned away, Scheherazade could have sworn she saw sadness gleaming in his dark eyes.
"You will remain here," the king said as he walked to the door. "I will be back tonight."
Shariyar did not look back at the girl as he slammed the door shut behind him. He left his guards so they could watch over her and so that he could be alone with his thoughts.
The king walked through the palace slowly, eventually making his way to the inner courtyard. The gardens were still wrapped in morning's dewy embrace, and the heady perfume of dark blossoms filled the air.
Shariyar breathed in deeply, hoping that the fresh air would help clear his head. He did not know what to think: Not only had he let the girl live, but he had fallen asleep with her in his arms. He had not held a woman like that since his wife.
"Fool," he muttered, unsure as to whether he was addressing himself or the gypsy.
He wandered down the cobbled paths aimlessly until he found himself at the gnarled old tree he and Jafar used to climb as boys. It was the only one tall enough to give them a glimpse of the city that lay beyond the palace walls. He ran a hand over the knotted bark and was close to becoming lost in his memories when he heard footsteps.
Shariyar was the last person Jafar expected - or wanted - to see as he rounded the corner to his favourite place in the courtyard. He started when he saw the king standing beneath the old tree.
"Good morning, your highness," Jafar said, confusion evident in his voice.
"Do you remember this tree, Jafar?" Shariyar asked, staring up at the twisting branches above his head. "We used to pretend it was the mast of a sailing ship or the tower of the enemy's keep."
"I remember it well," Jafar said cautiously. The vizier studied his friend carefully, trying to figure out what could possibly have prompted him to venture here. And alone... the king's guards were nowhere in sight.
"I was never meant to marry Nasrin," Shariyar said suddenly, breaking Jafar's concentration. "Do you remember that, Jafar?"
The vizier's eyes narrowed but he nodded as the memories returned suddenly. He had not thought about the betrothal in years. Certainly it seemed a lifetime ago that Shariyar's father announced to the young prince that he was to be engaged to the princess of a powerful but tiny kingdom over the ocean.
"I can't even remember what her name was," the king said.
"It was an age ago," Jafar whispered.
"What?"
"It was an age ago," he said again. "I can't remember either."
"It was so strange to think of getting married," Shariyar reminisced.
Even the concept of a betrothal had seemed very strange to the two young men. Shariyar and Jafar had both assumed that the future King of kings would have the right to choose his own bride. For Shariyar to be engaged and to a girl years younger than him... well, the whole thing had seemed preposterous.
"Your father didn't even tell you," Jafar said. "Remember? If we hadn't have been trying to sneak into the harem, we never would have overheard him planning away your future."
"Didn't stop us from getting into the harem though, did it?" Shariyar chuckled slightly.
"I don't think wild dogs could have kept us from stealing a glance at those women," Jafar said. He could not help but smile at Shariyar's laughter. No matter what his friend had done, it warmed Jafar's heart to see him happy. Even if just for a moment.
"What ever happened to the princess, I wonder?" Shariyar mused.
"I don't know," Jafar said. "We were too young to care."
"Not to mention it was not long after that that my father passed," Shariyar said. "If I cared at all about the betrothal, I cared even less after that."
Jafar nodded solemnly, remembering how grief had struck at his friend like a sickness. It took over his life, consuming his every waking minute for years until, finally, Nasrin entered his life and reintroduced happiness to the king's countenance. That was another reason why her betrayal had shaken the very foundations of his sanity - she had been the one to pull him from the depths. Without her, there was nothing to keep him from sinking back into that dark place and staying there.
"Perhaps that was when my bad luck with women began," Shariyar chuckled darkly, finally turning his back to the old tree.
Jafar cleared his throat but did not comment.
"What appointments do I have this morning?" Shariyar asked, motioning for Jafar to follow him back to the palace.
"Um, this morning you have a military strategy meeting with your generals," Jafar said, quickly catching up with the king. The list of Shariyar's meetings for the day ran on until the pair stepped back inside the castle.
"A full day then," Shariyar said wearily after Jafar finished. "We'd best get started."
"Before we begin," Jafar said slowly, "where is Scheherazade?"
Shariyar stopped in his tracks and rounded on the vizier: "She is not your concern."
"I just want to know if she is still alive," Jafar said.
The king said nothing, simply reached into his pocket and pulled out the ivory charm Jafar had given the girl.
"Why did you give this to the gypsy?" He asked, dropping the charm in Jafar's outstretched hand.
"I wanted to," he said.
"You wanted a piece of flotsam to have the charm you carved for your mother?" Shariyar asked.
"Can you not see that she is something special?" Jafar countered exasperatingly.
"She is no more beautiful than any whore you'd find at a brothel," the king said dismissively. "She is a mouthy little slave girl who needs to be reminded of her place. And that is what I intend to do."
"Then she is still alive?" Jafar asked, hope creeping into his voice.
"For now," the king murmured, his eyes simmering. "But you'd do best not to mention her again."
Jafar inhaled deeply but nodded, bowing his head as Shariyar turned. He followed the king through the palace, his heart racing with the knowledge that the girl had survived, not one, but two nights.
Perhaps Shariyar would not kill her after all.
++++++
When Shariyar was gone, Scheherazade climbed back into the bed, pulling the sheets around herself and staring around the room.
She fell asleep for another hour or so. When she woke again there was no sign that any servants had come. She should have known better than to expect Shariyar to remember the clothes he had promised her.
Scheherazade climbed out of bed and wrapped Shariyar's robe around herself, shivering at the memories its scent evoked. She rolled her shoulders and walked over to the table. She plucked a handful of dried dates from the bowl and sat down, tucking her legs up on her chair as she nibbled at the sweet fruit.
Scheherazade waited patiently for hours, but no servants appeared.
Finally she pulled the door open and found herself face-to-face with two of Shariyar's armed guards.
"I need something to wear," she said, looking from one helmeted face to the other. "Please? The king said the servants would bring me something."
The guards looked at each other and then one pulled the door shut. Scheherazade gasped angrily in surprise but, just as she turned her back, the doors opened again to let Jafar in.
"Jafar!" The girl exclaimed, wrapping him in an embrace.
"Scheherazade, are you all right?" Jafar asked, his face in her neck.
The girl pulled away and shrugged, hugging the robe tighter around her body.
"Did he hurt you?"
"Not compared to how I used to be treated," she replied.
"I don't have much time," Jafar said apologetically. "And Shariyar can't know I was here."
"I understand," she murmured.
"What did he do to you?" Jafar whispered, running his hands down her arms.
