Page 3 of Shâhzâdeh

Quentin pulled his guns and was using another guard for target practice not stopping until both clips were empty and the former guard looked like a paper target at the range.

Shoaib, the one who was supposed to keep us in order, was laughing and teasing the other guard who should’ve just put a bullet in his own head. Instead, they danced around in the blood that had been spilled on the ground before Shoaib made his move. He feinted to one side allowing the man to hit him in the face. Before he could pull his fist back, Shoaib had him locked up tight, his face turning red within seconds as he choked the life out of him. Sho was around the same height and build as Quentin with his hair cut short and his suit always immaculate. I knew he’d be ready to change as soon as we got done handling business.

“Shoaib, just break his neck, bro. We got stuff to do.” Quentin was reloading the clips in his gun dropping the empty ones on the ground next to the bodies. The blood that was creeping closer to his tactical boots didn’t bother him and he kept his eyes trained on Reza to ensure he didn’t move.

“Shâzâdeh, you must understand I vas only doing vhat I vas told to do.” Reza was on the ground begging, a move that disgusted me further.

I didn’t flinch as I heard the bones in the guard’s neck crack and Shoaib stopped toying with him. His body dropping to the floor was a muffled thump as Shoaib took his place slightly behind me next to Quentin.

“I don’t have to understand anyzing. You vere estupid enough to come to zhis country, zhat is already so hard on people from zhe Middle East, and do some fuck shit? To disgrace zhe position zhat I got for you? Vhat happened to you? You let Kamran corrupt you wiz his vays, didn’t you?”

I’d met Reza years ago when he was working at a stable outside of Tehran. Back then, I hadn’t gone into the city often using my official name or title. I traveled as Xerxes Cannon and other times as Amédée Cannon, an old family name from my Creole side and one of my middle names. The ability to move about without the royal moniker hanging over my head was a benefit because my moves didn’t need to be reported to the palace. When I met Reza, he’d been hardworking and shoveling shit to earn money to help his mother with his sisters. His father had died in one of the many fighting outbreaks that killed so many and his mother’s second husband had run off. We’d struck up a conversation and I couldn’t lie that his story hadn’t touched me. I would never want to see someone suffer and told him to be looking out for the opportunity to advance. He didn’t believe me, but when he got the call from the palace about working with our horses, he’d reached out to me to thank me. I’d had my reservations when I found out he’d be working with Kamran. I foolishly thought that Reza might’ve been a positive influence on my stupid cousin. But now I see that I had grossly underestimated the allure some people had to harming others when they had a taste of superiority. The fact remained that direct order or not; he was going to be punished.

“I didn’t vant to do any of zhis. He has zhe power to hurt my family. My mother and my sisters.” He was pleading but I could tell it was a performance. An optical illusion of remorse he didn’t feel.

I had a feeling he was going to come at me with this tired lie and I’d already had his mother and sisters checked on. What I found made my stomach turn. It was a shame how people felt as though they could lie to me, to my face no less, as though I wasn’t always thorough with my shit.

“Funny you mention your mother and your sisters. I had my contacts reach out to dem. Last time ve talked you said your oldest sister Jaleh vanted to study atAlzahra.Vhen ve checked on her, it turns out zhat she has a baby and is living in shame in a place one step up from a slum. Yet you travel zhe vorld in a private plane selling horses and I know your commissions are more zhan enough to support your sister, your mother and many from your old neighborhood. And by zhe way, vho is zhe child’s fazer?”

His darting eyes and the way he was shifting around in the dirt as though it would somehow save him spoke louder than anything that would come from his lips. His clothing, a once pristine white linen shirt and pants, were covered in blood and filth. But still it was not enough for me.

“If my sister vants to be a whore—”

The palm of my hand was across his face before he could get the words out of his mouth. I had to slap him like a bitch since he wanted to lie like one.

“I have eyes everywhere. I know all about zhe vay you allowed your prince to use your sister. And vhen she got pregnant instead of helping her or insisting zhat he did, you turned her away in eshame.”

That was the way Reza had secured his place with my cousin. Proved his loyalty by allowing him to have his sister. Like any woman facing poverty, his sister would’ve done whatever it was he said or faced getting put out. Especially if his ability to feed the family was the threat hanging over head. The fact that Reza would allow a stranger to abuse his sister and then still toss her out after her blood secured his position made him even more dishonorable in my eyes.

“Am I supposed to force a prince to do vhat is right? And lose my own head? Is my life not vorth saving?” Reza felt righteous in his anger and I pointed my sword at him with a smile on my face as his lips clamped shut.

“No. It is not. I vould’ve left you eshoveling eshit if I vould’ve known zhis was how you’d turn out. Offered to help your sister and let you vork for your bread. But no matter. All I can do is offer her zhe help I should’ve and force my cousin to do vhat is right.”

“He von’t marry her, she’s not pure.”

I admired the jeweled hilt of my scimitar not bothering to look at him. “And he was zhe one who slept wiz her first.”

“Zhere is no proof zhat he’s zhe child’s fazer.”

My eyes flickered to his face and he looked like he was proving a point. As though paternity would somehow invalidate the debt that his sister was owed by Kamran.

“Proof is being gazered. And he vill be named as her fazer as soon as zhe tests come back.” I shrugged my shoulders because there was no way a baby with Mahdavi blood was going to be abandoned and shunned because of the father’s lack of morals. Not like he would be alive long enough to do anything about it, anyway.

Reza’s brows dipped as though he couldn’t understand why I was taking up for his niece, while I couldn’t understand his lack of desire to ensure she was good. “You vould do zhat to your family?”

“Forcing zhem to take responsibility for zheir actions seems to be vhy I was put on zhis earz. Zheir divine retribution in human form. Now, to zhe reason I’m actually here. Vhere is zhe girl?”

My arms went behind my back, the tension zhat one kill had eased creeping back up. I wanted to harm my cousin, Reza and a myriad of others but I knew that wasn’t going to happen today. It was a shame that Reza didn’t have more people with him so that I could work off some of this energy.

“Vhat girl?” His shoulders went back defiantly and I glanced at both Quentin and Shoaib, both who wore amused smiles on their faces. I turned back to Reza lamenting the fact that I had agreed to bring him to Mr. Chisholm-Love.

“Zhe girl you vere about to traffick for zhe same cousin you trafficked your esister for. Vhere is she?”

Reza’s smile was affable, the same one that convinced me he needed help but then it was genuine. Now it was practiced, a means of manipulation instead of displaying genuine emotion.

“Come now, zhere is no one of importance looking for her. She’s just—”

Sho huffed, Quentin grunted and I could only snarl at the way he spoke about another human. “A woman. And even vizout zhe powerful people behind her, eshe’s worz being treated viz dignity and respect no matter vhat bullshit Kamran has put in your head. So again, vhere is she? And please do not make me ask again.”

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