Just as he closed the shed, a sudden tug of Hussam's sleeve caused his head to jerk downward. Eyes wide with wonder, a small boy peered up at him expectantly, not at all phased by his imposing height.
"May I assist you, my prince?"
Rarely did Hussam surprise easily, if at all, and the brazen youngster piqued his interest. The boy deepened the base in his voice to sound more manly, however his boyish timbre had yet to mature. His head full of hair, chest out, and a toothless grin only marked his innocence.
An innocence Hussam treasured. "How old are you?"
"Ummi says I will be ten summers, but father says age does not make the man."
Hussam wouldn't admit it, but he liked his answer. He liked it a lot, in fact. Maybe too much. He quirked an amused brow. "Is that so?"
"Yes, my prince," he eagerly nods his reply.
"What is your name?"
"Ahmed, my prince."
"Very well, Ahmed. Is your mother aware that you are here?"
"Na'am!" He nods again with that feverish zeal; giddy at the mere idea of serving his leader. He did not bat an eye in his presence. "It was she who told me to aid you instead of Nizam. My brother is not feeling well."
"One might think otherwise." Hussan voiced, murmuring a silent prayer for the boy's speedy health and protection.
Surely no sane mother would send her child into the lion's den. Nizam, his horse-keeper, was Ahmed's brother, he'd just learned. It made all the sense then why the brave boy stood before a man—a cold-blooded brute—most mothers would kiss away from his nightmares.
"Huh? One might what, my prince?"
"It is nothing." Turning to grab the fallen goods from the ground, he hands Ahmed a basket filled with spices and vegetables he'd purchased at the market, along with a bouquet for his mother. Not too heavy, something his scrawny arms could bear.
Hussam had made plans to visit his mother and could have delivered them himself, but was too modest a man to enter any female quarters. "Deliver these to the housekeeper and make sure the kitchenmaids receive them."
"And after?" Ahmed asks, plainly sulking at the thought of not working with horses mountains his size. "What would you have me do after I deliver them?"
Brazen and relentless. Hussam grinned. "I shall teach you a few tricks later, in sha allah," he said pointing to the slew of horses in the stables. Not Qadr. Never his stallion.
His eyes widen. "Haqqan!?"
"Only if your mother consents." He supplied, patting his head. "Yallah, run along now."
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