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Here’s some dialogue from the second chapter of The Talisman, my 1001 Nights retelling:

“You’re staring, habibati. You’re the first woman I’ve known to do that.”

His voice startled her out of her reverie, and she immediately answered.

“Are all your victims too afraid to look you in the eye, o King?”

He laughed.

He laughed.

It was a hollow laugh, his fingers brushing against her chin as he did so.

“So they have sent me a alkubira alsahrawia (desert cobra), I see.” The blade she had been waiting for bit into her neck, thirsty for virgin blood as he tightened his hold on the ivory hilt. “I prefer those over most.”

“Your fancies will not be satisfied,” Azade spat through gritted teeth. “All your desert cobras have not survived.”

“I am immune to your venom,” the sultan warned. “I am immune to all their venom.”

“Mine is different. Mine has no antidote, not even the blade of a dagger.”

“All venom has an antidote, girl. Do not play smart with me.” Iron made its way into his voice, attempting to freeze the very blood in Scheherazade’s veins.

“Humanity has not discovered the cure to everything,” she snapped in return. “Humanity has not discovered my cure.”

“It will eventually. You, unfortunately, won’t be alive to see it.” His lips hovered near her ear.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you.”

 

“أنت سوف تقتل رواية القصص”.

“You’d be killing a storyteller.”

 

The words slipped effortlessly from her lips, as smooth as honey as the sultan processed them.

“A storyteller.” He sounded bored, almost, watching her closely as he continued. “Every woman before you has called themselves a storyteller. What they’ve done is tell me the same tale of magic lamps and flying carpets, street urchins and royalty. And I’ve listened to them.” His eyes glinted dangerously. “What makes you think you’ll be any different?”

“Many women have prayed that dawn would never come. I pray that dusk will linger for but a moment, for I am not done spinning my tale, o sultan.”

“And what story would that be?”

Azade smiled, a stark contrast to the conniving one that played upon the corners of Rahim’s lips.

“The story of my travels. If you have heard it before you are free to use your dagger. If you have not-” Azade shrugged. “You may listen if you please.”

Rahim studied her for a moment, the blade still pressed to her neck. Suddenly it was gone.

“Begin.” The king sat down amongst a pile of Turkish pillows and rested his dagger beside him. “Let us see if your tale is any different than the others.”

What do you think? The full story is available here, on Wattpad (yes, I know, shameless promotion, but if you like the dialogue I’m not going to deprive you of the rest of the story):

https://www.wattpad.com/story/135693611-the-talisman-a-1001-nights-retelling-wattys2018-on