Prince of Knights (An Arabic Love Story)✓

Prince of Knights Chp35

"We have crossed paths." Faris retorted in a gruff voice.

"That is delightful then. We shall now discuss matters as he is one of us." Sagr al fursan observed Faris.

"What makes you think that he can tackle what we shall propose? I have yet to witness his capabilities." Faris al Fursan took a step forward. By Allah, his hand that rested on his sword itched, he wanted to destroy but knew better. Raghad is the daughter of a Sheikh, and just like Shouq, many would come to request for her hand. If Faris assassinated all those suitors his sister shall never wed.

Then why on earth did he yearn to slit Jabber's throat?

"He is my knight, Prince. And I am certain you are well aware of Rashideen knights' valor and forte." Badr hoisted his brow.

"There is a dog in our tribe, shall I say that the hound is valiant and proficient merely because it resides in the Borkan tribe?" Faris moved his gaze from Jabber to Badr then back to the man he wanted to kill.

"Shall we unsheathe our swords then, ya Faris?" Jabber offered testing the fiend with a clenched jaw. "Hounds are notorious for their barbaric temperament and for ripping men to shreds."

Faris smiled and moved his fingers on his sword. "La Ya Jabber. We are standing before a masjid," Badr moved in, standing between the men. "Besides, brother-in-law, Jabber shall aid me in this ploy and I am certain that you have people to shoulder you as well." Badr pronounced, he glanced towards Faris's sword then at the man himself. He waited for Faris to verbalize something. Badr knew something was dreadfully wrong, he was well aware that he would not be able to hold the monster if it was unleashed.

However, after a pregnant pause, Faris chuckled then dropped his hand from his sword. "Indeed." He hissed the words then sauntered towards the masjid, disregarding the knights.

By Allah, the spectators that held their breath outside of the masjid were shell-shocked at the sight inside. The Knights, the beasts who were ready to drench the earth with crimson blood a moment ago stood alongside each other with Faris in the middle, while Badr on his right and Jabber on his left. The tribesmen could not believe it, they could not bind a thread of their brain around the fact that before their Lord, their Maker, the men would forget their abhorrence, that they would drop their gaze in utter silence. That moment they knew that indeed, nothing else had the authority to bring them together aside from this religion, apart from the love for their Lord.

Faris did not stay behind to chat with the men. As soon as the Iman concluded the prayer he stood up and walked out of the masjid tremendously irked. He needed to depart, he could not stay in this tribe any longer without spilling blood, his wrath and urge were daunting, so formidable that he had to murmur verses of Quran to tame his fury. Instead of making his way towards the tents Faris al Fursan veered towards the farms eager to cleanse thoughts from his brain and to do so he needed to remain unaccompanied.

He stayed there under the shade of a palm tree for a long while not willing to go back to the woman who drove him insane. Faris rubbed his chin with two of his fingers as he recalled the state of Ali's corpse and the wounds on his body. His eyes narrowed when a thought creaked in his brain. Both men who were killed belonged to his tribe, the one Salem was accused of terminating and Ali. Whoever had the strings desperately wanted the Borkans to unchain their power on the Rashideen.

His blood simmered. How dare them to perform their tricks in his tribe? Did they not know that Faris would peel off their skin and hang their heads on their swords for others to witness if he hearkened of this? Faris al Fursan closed his eyes, he had to make a move, and make one quick before another body finds its way on his doors.