"To ensure that both my son and the stone are returned to me, I have created an incentive." The Hakeem gestures with two fingers to the guards standing in the arches behind me.
They bring out three figures, bound and silenced with cloths wrapped around their mouths.
When Aya sees me in the room, she starts crying and tries to reach out for me but one of the guards hold her back. This is not possible.
A soft cry leaves the thief's lips as she rushes to the tallest of the three figures. An older, slim woman with the same brown curls and lack of height as the thief.
Gossamer curtains hanging in front of the arched windows continue to flutter, blowing in wind that suddenly seems to dry and warm. It makes it hard to breath, as if with every breath, desert sand fills my lungs.
The only sound is the soft whisper of the thief speaking to her mother, holding her close.
"Do not worry yourselves. They will have grand rooms and will be fed well. They will not have to lift a finger. I will insure they are cared for," the Hakeem reassures. I wait for the other half of his statement, because there is always a—"However, if within a month, your journey is unsuccessful, their throats will be cut."
At that statement, Saad shifts, trying to get away from the guard and to me. "Ba," he calls for me, then looks towards his sister, tears filling his eyes.
I clench my jaw and look ahead, refusing to meet their eyes; refusing to show that I care. If I do, it will put them in worse danger. I tuck my pain deep down in my chest, and refuse to let it show the way the thief is.
No matter how badly I want to hold them, to whisper against the tops of their heads that they will be okay. That would be an empty promise, when the Hakeem may as well be holding a knife to their necks at this moment.
The thief comes to me, holding onto my forearm. "Do something."
I want to shout at her, to stop being stupid. Does she not see there is a strategy at play, and the Hakeem will exploit our every move? "Go back to your seat," I demand, moving her wrist and pushing her away from me.
I accidentally use too much force, and she stumbles backwards. The look in her eyes nearly makes me apologise, until I see Saad and Aya in their shackles.
This is her fault. If she hadn't come to the palace, stuck her nose into other people's business, none of this would be happening. These innocent children would be safe.
"Sit," I demand, glaring at her. I make sure to make the command sound like I am speaking to a badly behaved dog.
She lowers herself beside Akilah at the table, but her eyes do not leave her mother. The Hakeem dismisses us after confirming that we will be leaving tonight.
"I'm sorry, mama. I love you," the thief calls as her mother is dragged away.
"Alara, be careful," is all her mother says, her voice raspy. So that's her name.
I dare to look at Saad and Aya one last time, unknowing if I'll see them again. They watch me, searching for answers. I wish I could tell them I love them, and that they did nothing wrong.
The anger in my chest causes a ringing in my ears. It makes it impossible to think.
The room empties out, but I don't move. Not until the thief's hands are pushing against my chest. Her eyes are filled with uncontained fury. "How dare you?"
Her fist swings towards my jaw, but I grab it and spin her around, pulling her back against me. I wrap on forearm against the curve of her neck and the other around her midsection to stop her arms from moving.
She tries to shift, but nothing works. She will get out when I allow it. "Stop trying to fight me. I am a trained, royal guard," I say, my voice low.
She squirms against me, but finally stills when she realises it is getting her nowhere. Her breathing is ragged.
I tug my forearm against her throat, pulling her closer to me. Anger pumps through my blood. She deserves to feel this way, because it is her fault. "I hate you, Malaika. I'm going to make sure you wish you had never stepped foot inside the palace."
She huffs. "Good. Because I hate you, too. Now get your hands off me."
~~*~~
*Excited voice* It's happening
T w i t t e r : xPineappleGirlx
I n s t a g r a m : laylaawrites
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YOU ARE READING
One Night
Teen Fiction[Arabian Nights meets Atlantis] She wants to save her family. He wants to save his people. After selling all of her belongings to survive, Alara has nothing-except a burn scar left by her unknown father and a sick mother she has to take care of. In...
Chapter Twelve
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