The Serpent's Veil

Empty Gardens

The emissary himself was a plump man with a snub nose and big grey eyes. Rehan had exchanged a few words with him earlier in the evening before quickly excusing himself from the dullness of the interaction. The man was probably interesting, but through the translator and the added vagueness of courtly speech, it was a pointless exercise.

Besides, he knew that at some point the Byzantines would be sent to bed with a few scantily clad girls, and their minds would be supple and soft to mould to the Caliph's will in the morning.

Now his goblet was almost empty again. Rehan sighed and looked at Yahya, who was stoic as ever.

He glanced at the Prince without turning his head. "You are drinking more than usual."

Rehan rolled his eyes. "There is nothing better to do." After a pause he added, "At least until Khayzuran gets here."

This time Yahya turned, brows knitting in confusion. "Khayzuran? Why is she coming here?"

The Prince cocked his head. "I told you I was bored the moment I got here."

"So what is she going to do? Entertain you?"

"Yes."

Yahya wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose. "You cannot flaunt your concubine in front of dignitaries, Sayyidi."

"Oh?" a smile played across Rehan's lips, "Are you presuming to tell a Prince what he can't do, Emir Yahya?"

Yahya glared but did not answer. Rehan merely laughed, breath laced with wine and humour. "Don't be so tense, hardly anyone knows she exists."

"The whole harem knows, your family knows, my family knows. That's a third of everyone in this room."

Another eye-roll. "Stop being so pedantic. Besides, I haven't even bedded her, so she is more like a friend than a concubine."

Yahya's eyes narrowed. "Why not? Was something wrong with her?"

"Of course not, she is a jewel."

"Then what?"

Rehan chuckled. "I don't remember you being so interested in this when I married Rayta."

Yahya cleared his throat. "I didn't mean–"

"She simply wasn't inclined to it that night." He drained the last remnants of wine from his goblet and murmured, "Besides, she is worth more than that."

As if fate had overheard their conversation, an attendant scurried to them and whispered in the Prince's ear. His mistress had arrived.

A grin pulled at Rehan's lips. "Forgive me, Yahya. I wish you luck with the mongrels."

The Prince disappeared into the crowd in search of his lover.

No, his friend.

X

Khaya was shocked when she entered the grand hall. Almost a hundred people's breaths filled the air with warmth and merriment. Men dressed in fine robes and embroidered tunics debated animatedly, throwing their arms up and splashing their drinks. Women walked among them, sometimes engaging them in discussion. Some even wore their hair open in flowing locks for all to see.

Zayan jumped when he saw the Prince all but pushing through the crowd and whispered the fact to Khaya before melting into the shadows.

The Prince sauntered towards her. He wore a delicately patterned crimson qamis beneath his ebony kaftan, which flowed behind him like a river. A dagger in a jeweled sheath hung at his hip, the same dagger Khaya had used to save him from the desert serpents.