The Sultan's Daughter (Princesses Uncovered #5)

Chapter 19: Life - When Did It Become So Complicated?

The man was on them before they could flee.

Hashim cursed as the man’s camel bore down on them, the saber flashing in the sunlight bursting over the horizon. “Fath! Get out of here. Take the pot and a camel and go! Don’t get caught. I’ll catch up with you later in the city. Go!” Hashim shouted.

Fath’s eyes were wide. “I can’t just leave you, Hashim!”

“Go, you idiot boy. Unless you want to end up dead.” Hashim swept up a saber from the sand beside the fire.

Fath hesitated, but a furious wave from Hashim sent him scrambling with the lamp to the camel, which was still kneeling in the sand, oblivious to the coming disaster.

He climbed onto the camel’s hump, kicking it to get up, and taking off in a run. Behind him, he heard the ringing sound of the man’s saber being drawn from its scabbard. Hashim’s scream of defiance came next with the clashing of the two sabers, a clear reverberation of steel hitting steel.

He closed his eyes for a moment as the camel ran. Opening them again, he took a deep breath as the clamor of the battle behind him faded away. He had no idea who the man had been, but he and Hashim had worked hard to retrieve the oil pot. He had to get it back to the city.

And – as guilty as he felt for thinking it – if Hashim didn’t make it back, he could just keep the lamp. But Hashim would be back. He had to come back. After everything he and Fath had gone through to get this little pot he clutched in his hands, it would be cruel if he died.

***

Nightfall came, and Fath’s camel treaded the city streets, its footsteps heavy and dragging. Fath was drooping in the saddle, barely conscious enough to guide the camel to his home.

He reached the courtyard and – as his mother came rushing out – he blacked out, falling from the camel – which had also dropped to its knees – and thudding into the ground.

***

“Fath?” Someone’s voice nettled at him.

He opened his eyes a crack, moaning.

His mother’s blurry face hovered above him, her brow furled in a frown.

He lifted a hand to his head, but immediately regretted it as his head erupted into shooting sparks and pain. He grimaced, groaning and closing his eyes again.

“Lie still, Fath. You can’t get up yet.” His mother murmured, pressing a hand against his chest to keep him from sitting up.

As if he was going to try to get up. His head felt as though a hornets’ nest had broken within it with the hornets buzzing about in crazed swarms. He dropped his arm, not moving. His belly roiled with nausea, and without being able to stop, he rolled to the opposite side of the bed, ignoring the pain, his breakfast from the previous day – or was it the day before – coming up and spilling onto the rush matting on the floor.

His mother brought him a clay cup with water in it, letting him rinse his mouth out and spit it into a little clay bowl, which matched the cup.

He rolled back after taking a sip or two of the water. Tears pricked his eyes – not just because of the pain, but because memories of what had occurred with Hashim were assailing him. Where was the older man now? Was he even alive?

Blackness began enveloping him again, and he welcomed it with gratefulness, the escape from reality it offered becoming more attractive by the second. It swallowed him completely, and his eyes closed as he blacked out again.

***

Hashim stood before the Sultan – Cemal on his left – glaring daggers at both Sultan Imaran and his young advisor, Gafar.