Khalifa

21 Butterfly

"Commander," Hafez intervenes, coming to stand beside Noura. "I request that you leave the lady alone."

Muawwiz shifts his attention to him. "Since when did I start taking orders from you?"

"It's not about you. It's about the orders I have received and I'm bound to keep," Hafez retorts.

Both the men come face to face, challenging each other menacingly. "So you'll present my head to the general for this?" Muawwiz mocks. "Or maybe I'll behead you before you even dare."

"Or maybe I'll bury my dagger in your neck before you even dare," Noura interjects, boiling in rage, all the veils of pretense burning to ashes. She strangles the commander with her charing gaze. "Who do you think you are?"

A glint of both amusement and surprise paints his feature as he fixates his stare on her again. "Someone who can bring you to your knees, so you better watch your mouth around me."

"Commander!" Another voice booms and all heads turn to him. Noura watches Adam striding towards them.

"Slave," Muawwiz spits, looking at him over his nose.

He stops in front of him and parallels his look. The air between them vibrates loudly with tension and Noura subconsciously takes a step away from them.

"What do you want from the lady?" Adam demands.

"Nothing of concern to you," Muawwiz dismissively replies.

"It concerns me if you're bothering her."

"Pray tell," Muawwiz arches an eyebrow, intrigued, "why must be that?"

"The caliph honors the lady, commander. Vultures aren't allowed to peck around her."

Noura hears the sting in Adam's words, and the way they impact Muawwiz. But the commander smirks instead of displaying offense, rolling his shoulders casually.

"I don't feed on scrapes." He nods towards her. "Since when did the caliph, though?"

This time, she notices a hurricane rise in Adam's unnerving orbs, chilling their surrounding in an instant as the air once more fills with tension thicker than before. Noura fists her hands. Muawwiz's insult aside, it is the daunting look Adam is giving him that tells her he might just reach out and snap open his breastbone before pulling out his heart.

"Muawwiz," Adam refers to him by his name rather than his designation like usual. "How about you ask this the caliph yourself? I know you're fond of walking on the sharp edge of the sword, but so is the caliph fond of having a head under his axe." He smiles slowly, devilishly-- the way he does whenever his villainous side resurfaces. "Your head will make a wasted ornament though-- it's empty, not fancy."

Muawwiz laughs out at his remark, licking his lips, ignoring his derogatory comment, before leaning forward and lowering his voice. "Adam," he calls him by his name too, mimicking him, holding his eyes boldly. "And do you think your head will stay on your shoulders after the mischief you've been creating?"

Noura feels her palms begin to sweat. The possibility of Muawwiz having learnt of their secret numbs her body. She feels a sensation of pins and needle prick her skin and desperately gazes at Adam, who, unlike her, remains stoic with the same sinful smile kissing the corners of his mouth.

"Hasn't it so far, commander?"

"We'll see how long this pride lasts, slave." Muawwiz turns to look at her again. "The Ameer is waiting for you, girl. Go to him."

He spares one more glance at Adam, biting like a winter night, laden with warnings and derision, before walking past them and disappearing around the corner. Adam doesn't bother looking in his direction but Noura follows him with her eyes until he's out of sight.