THE GREATEST OF ALL LIVING POWERS

OMAR AL-SADIQ WAS AFRAID.

It had been many years since he’d truly felt fear. He was far too old for fear. Far too at ease with life. Far too set in his ways.

But he could not find the Calipha of Khorasan. He’d searched for her all afternoon. And Irsa al-Khayzuran was nowhere to be found, either.

Omar had known something was afoot last night, when his most trusted sentry had come to him and reported that Shahrzad had not returned to her tent. Nor had that same sentry seen the calipha anywhere thereabouts this morning. Which was indeed cause for alarm. Before, when Shahrzad had disappeared each night, she’d always returned to her tent by dawn.

And now Omar was certain his worst fears had come to pass.

In truth, he’d known it was only a matter of time.

Which left Omar with a decision to make. It was obvious Reza bin-Latief had lied to him about his intentions, as Omar had suspected Reza might do. But it broke his heart to know the truth with such unequivocal certainty, for Reza had become a friend. He’d been a good man once. A man who had loved his wife and daughter, and lived a life of simple desires.

But suffering had changed all that. For it was easy to be good and kind in times of plenty. The trying times were the moments that defined a man.

And love? Love was something that did much to change a person. It brought joy as it brought suffering, and in turn brought about those moments that defined one’s character.

Love gave life to the lifeless. It was the greatest of all living powers.

But, as with all things, love had a dark side to it.

The darkness had overtaken Reza bin-Latief, as Omar had seen it would.

Omar had seen its shadow descend upon his friend, just as Omar had known his own tribe would fall into the clash of two kingdoms. Would be caught between the warring nations of Khorasan and Parthia. One a sovereign land of plenty, besieged by recent misfortune. The other its lesser in all ways, save for ambition.

The lands of the Badawi lay along the border between Khorasan and Parthia, and Omar had known it would be impossible for him to remain apart from any conflict that occurred between the two, however much he may have wished it could be so. His people were too close, his land too valuable.

But Omar had not known how best to proceed.

He had not known who would be his true enemy, and whom he could fashion into a friend. And Omar was not the type to choose sides without learning all he could first. Without seeing both faces of the coin.

He had hoped Tariq—the young nobleman from Khorasan who possessed such a pure heart—would help to guide him. The White Falcon from Khorasan, who would guide his kingdom from the darkness back into the light.

But now Omar was not so sure. For he’d not yet had the chance to speak freely on these matters with Tariq. And the boy’s heart had not seemed to be in the recent raids made on neighboring strongholds. Omar was not certain Tariq had chosen right in following his uncle. Not certain Tariq knew how best to choose between right and wrong.

For Tariq had seen only one face of the coin.

It was time for Omar to share with Tariq all he knew. All he had learned from all his quiet observance. All he had long suspected.

It was time for Tariq to make a choice as well.

For Tariq’s uncle had already made his. A path into darkness.

And now the Calipha of Khorasan and her young sister were missing. Omar need only hazard one guess as to where they’d been taken.

Which meant the two kingdoms were likely on the brink of war.

Which meant the al-Sadiq tribe would ride again.

But with whom?

With a mysterious boy-king who had murdered all his brides without seeming cause? Or with a power-hungry tyrant who had paid mercenaries to bide their time amongst Omar’s people? The same power-hungry tyrant Omar suspected had allied himself with Reza bin-Latief long ago.

For Omar had seen the trunks of gold being spirited away under cover of night. He had seen the brigands with their scarab brands. It was why he had asked Reza bin-Latief’s forces to relocate to the outskirts of his camp nearly a fortnight ago.

But which of these two kings was the true villain of this story?

For a story was only as good as its villain.

Indeed, it was time for Omar to make a decision. To pry back the worn wool from the desert’s eyes.

For the desert did indeed have eyes. Eyes Omar had put in place many moons ago. Omar had always known how to watch and listen. This desert was his desert. A desert his people had ruled for six generations.

It was time for Omar to see if Tariq was made of more than muscle and mettle. To see if Tariq could handle the truth. Once Omar had confessed it to him, he would hear what the boy had to say. And his decision would be made.

Whether it would make the boy his enemy or his ally remained to be seen.

But Omar’s people came first. Despite how much he’d come to care for the boy. Despite how much Omar longed to see the boy achieve all he’d set out to achieve.

How much he longed to see Tariq’s love story win out.

Omar had said it to Aisha many times before. Though she’d harrumphed at him quite severely whenever she heard it, he knew it never ceased to make her smile.

“Give me a meaningful love or a beautiful death!”

Alas, Omar was a greedy man.

He’d always hoped to have both.