When my wounds caused by your remembrance begin to heal, I find an excuse to think of you once again.
— Faiz Ahmed Faiz
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Him
Her memories are like cursed ghost not leaving his bones but homing there. And he in all his folly has never bothered saving himself of them. Her memories have become the chains at his feet that keep him bounded to her. Wherever he goes, now when he has found her, he keeps returning to her.
"What is your name, boy?"
He smiles as he recalls the day he had first met her at the palace. He was a meek child, and she was a tempest.
"Why won't you tell me? Do you have no name?"
He remembers how she had poked his shoulder to get him talking and his failed attempts at shooing her away.
"My name is Noura."
"Noura?" he whispers to the vast canvas of galaxy.
"I'll sing you a poem my baba has taught me." He hears her voice ringing in his ears.
"Butterflies and roses," he sings to himself.
Her
"So it's a mare?"
"Yes."
"Does she have a name?"
"It's Hayat."
"Hayat?"
The sky is in soft shades of pink and orange and another long day is finally coming to an end. A few fragments of clouds sail above her; they're frail and she knows the night will reward her with silver of the stars again-- like the grains of sand below her feet will be the grains of glitters in the sky when darkness falls. She has awaited it every dwindling hour of every day.
Noura sits on a rock and Adam stands a few feet away from her, feeding his mare. It has been close to a week they've been traveling together and in a day or two they'll be finally arriving at the palace in Baghdad, as he had informed her. The man doesn't speak much, mostly keeping to himself, but she has still somehow managed to get a few things out of him, though not of much significance. Yet where she has to cover the journey alone with him and be wary of him, it was becoming impossible to ignore her captor for long.
"What's the name of my horse?" she asks, referring to the big gray animal she has been riding upon during the span of days.
He hunches a shoulder in ignorance. "I don't know. It's from the stables, not my personal."
"Then can I name him?"
He glances at her, and for the nth time her gaze lingers on the scars of his eyebrow. "I don't see why not."
Noura smiles at him and he goes back to his business without returning her gesture. For anyone else, he might be unsettling-- initially he was for her too. There's no doubt in her mind that the man is dangerous. If the haunting look in his endless black eyes isn't enough of a proof, she doesn't know what is. There must be a reason why he's the queen's personal guard. And she knows even if a hundred times she had attempted to escape him, he would've kept his words and found her again. So she hasn't bothered even though the thought has occurred to her multiple times. She doesn't wants to be in the man's bad graces. Although by now, he doesn't alarm her anymore. Unlike the commander before him, he has kept himself away from her. For Noura, it's enough that he respects her space.
"Adam?"
He looks back at her in question.
"How is the queen?" she inquires out of her curiosity and boredom. If she doesn't begin a conversation with him, he never does on his own either. And the lengthy silences between them added to the deaf echoes of the desert disturb her. She doesn't want to feel alone and drown herself in the misery of being away from her home. One way or the other, she has to fight her destiny. For herself. For Eskander.
"You'll know when you meet her, sayidati (my lady)," he replies.
Despite her telling him her name, he has stuck to the formalities with her, keeping her at an arm distances and avoiding becoming friendly with her. Not that she's foolish enough to blindly trust a man, but she's not acquainted to the ways of the palace, and Adam is, thus he's sticking to his ways.
"Still, tell me something about her," she insists.
"What do you want to know?"
She ponders over it for a moment. "She must be very beautiful for the caliph to marry her, nah? I've heard Yusuf bin Khalid never took a woman besides her, which is surprising for a caliph having his harem full of women."
By now he's done feeding their horses and arranging sticks to light up and prepare their dinner. He pauses at her question and their eyes meet once again.
"It will be dishonorable of me to speak so blatantly of the beauty of my master's wife."
Noura is taken aback by his words, but she masks her expression expertly and nods in understanding. "Pardon my candidness."
He simply goes back to lightening a fire and within a while a golden flame burns up between them.
"You served caliph Yusuf?" she continues.
He nods. "I was a slave sold to him. He freed me and put me in his army. Afterwards the rebellion when he was dethroned, I was assigned as her ladyship's guard."
A million questions surface in her head. She suddenly understands why Muawwiz had called him a slave. And then she remembers something else. Noura edges forward towards him.
"You don't serve in the army anymore?"
"I do."
"Under Eskander?"
His gaze flicks up to her. She notices the tick of his jaw which he fails to hide. "Yes."
"You don't seem fond of him," she points out openly.
"It's nothing personal, sayidati. Things at palace are complicated than the outside world."
"Just like you've held me captive for theft yet still call me a lady?" She smirks. "Such irony. The palace must teach hypocrisy to its members."
Instead of taking offense, he smiles and looks away from her. "Can I be so bold in speaking ill of the general despite knowing that he's your family?"
"I see how considerate you are," she mocks.
"You fail to see what I do."
"And that is?"
He shakes his head dismissively. "I hold no grudge against the general. He's skilled like no other and certainly in my life, I've never met a warrior mighty enough to defeat him in a battlefield. Under different circumstances, I might have favored him for the position too."
Noura frowns at him. On one hand, he compliments Eskander. On the other, he presents him as a man with unfair motives with the way he speaks of him.
"Why don't you be clear in what you mean?" she demands.
Adam casually continues cooking their meal as he proceeds. "Ameer Zakariya favors him too much, that was why he insisted he was the best option for the rank. And even though general Eskander belongs to a noble family whose men dedicated their lives to this land, he himself doesn't seem to have submitted fully to Al Shafay."
"You accuse him for treason?" Noura feels her blood boil. "On what grounds?"
"None. Neither do I accuse him for anything, let alone treason." He stops his activity and turns his attention fully to her, his orbs becoming hard and pitiless. "I merely say that your brother is a cunning man, and one must be wary of him."
"I suppose it must take for the likes of him to know him," she retorts bitterly, indirectly calling Adam cunning too, and from the chuckle that escapes him she knows her arrow has hit its mark.
"I started living the life of the palace in my prime," he explains. "I spent my youth with Khalifa Yusuf and saw many seasons change with him, to the point where his own brother betrayed him. From a young boy to becoming a man-- from a slave to a warrior-- my eyes have caught what any naive eye would miss. Not that I myself am peerless, but I've learnt enough with my experience. It all comes down to one thing: where one's loyalties lie."
"Then I assure you Eskander is more loyal to the crown than your assumptions of him."
He tips his head. "For the betterment of his own sake, sayaditi, I hope he is."
At that moment, she learns how power can earn you enemies. And how within the span of a few days she has met men who are more vultures than friends to Eskander, ready to feed on his flesh. At the very moment, she realizes she shouldn't really fancy Adam. Behind the wooden mask of expressions and eyes like a moonless sky, dark and vehement, he indeed is a man sharper than a sword's blade. And she might not be a palace woman to know their tricks, but she isn't silly either to be outwitted so smoothly.
Noura stands up and dusts her dress. "I'll take a walk to stretch my legs." A look of disapproval instantly crosses his face and she quickly adds, "I won't go out of your sight, don't worry. I'm no coward to run away."
He doesn't protest and she takes it as his permission to be on her own for a while. Despite understanding his reasons of keeping her under his watch, she scoffs mentally. The caliph and his palace must be a pit of snakes. Once upon a time, she recalls when she was a child, that place was a golden house to her from a fairytale. But with time she has learnt that surely not every glittering thing is gold.
The sun once more is setting behind the dunes, slowly disappearing. Soon again the sky will be littered with stars both Eskander and her can see-- both of them can love. Too often, she thinks of him and misses him. Does the palace ever feel like home to him? She doubts more and more now. How can he be happy there? But then again, he's a man who's self-reliant and strong. She has never heard him utter a complaint to her. Noura smiles to herself.
When she's good distance away from her tent, she settles down on another rock and watches the dusk fade away with each second, the brilliance of the universe on full display to her. Quietly, she brings her knees to her chest and rests her chin upon them. How does she live in a world which is not her own? She breathes deeply as if to soothe the ache in her chest.
It's a long while afterwards when Adam calls her for dinner. They eat silently without any exchange of words between them. When she's done, Noura excuses herself from him and goes to sit outside her tent and admire the stars.
When she was a child, her father would narrate to her stories and poems of the caliph and his queen, and of love and happiness. Back when she was innocent to understand the lies behind it all, she wanted to be part of the palace. And today when her wish is granted, it has become a nightmare than a dream.
"Butterflies and roses." She closes her eyes and puts her arms around herself, trying to ease her worries like her father would do for her. "Nightingales in proses," she lulls herself to sleep right there under open sky. "All the world fades away / Love is only what must stay." Noura puts her head back against the tent. "She is who he chooses / He is who she chooses."
Sleep gently numbs her and before she knows it, darkness envelopes her. It feels like eternity before something touches against her face and breaks her slumber. She blinks open her eyes, trying to gather her surrounding and barely managing to make it out before her sight adjusts to the dark. Grateful to the celestial bodies of the sky for illuminating enough for her to be finally able to see what has woken her up, she finds a horse standing before her. Her mind is still too mushy to understand what's happening, thinking Adam might have forgotten to tie their horses, before she realizes it's not one of theirs. Noura immediately sits up in alarm.
She looks around and finds Adam sleeping many feet away from her by the dying fire. He has left his cloak over her to keep her warm since she had fallen asleep out of her tent. She drags it off her and cautiously lifts herself up. The hair on her body stand up in apprehension of finding someone else besides them, but there's no one. The horse starts trotting away from her. And that's when it hits her-- the same black stallion she had seen that evening she found the caliph's seal. The thief's horse. She can never forget it's beastly form. Her knees buckle. Someone is around. Fear begins to root within her.
She forces her feet towards where Adam is lying. Her steps are hurried and panicked but quite in the desert sand. She falls to his side.
"Adam?" she chokes and shakes him with trembling hands. "A-Adam?" Her breath hitches in her throat.
Her rolls on his side towards her and rubs his eyes. It takes him only seconds to register her form and sit up urgently.
"Noura?"
"Someone is here," she rushes in whispers and scoots closer to him. His fingers instantly curls around his sword beside him as his gaze hunts across the area.
"Who?" his tone turns altered.
She shakes her head frantically. "The thief who stole the caliph's seal."
He furrows his brows. "Did you see anyone?"
"The horse I saw that evening when I found the seal. It belongs to the thief."
"Noura," he says her name calmly, and she ignores the fact he's referring to her by it, or how different it sounds from his lips. "This is a safe place," he assures her. "We're close to Baghdad. The army is on watch in the area. There are caravans passing through the desert all the time. You could've been mistaken--"
"No," she hisses, frustrated at him for not believing her. "It's too much of a coincidence."
"Okay," he agrees defeatedly before taking her shaking hands in his, trying to ease her agitation. "I'm here with you. No harm will befall you. Now fear not and go back to sleep. I'll be awake if someone shows up."
She shudders, both at the thought of being followed around by someone and by the touch of Adam. His skin feels warm and calloused, roughened probably from the battles. But his presence relieves her disquiet. She gingerly pulls her hands free of him and he allows her without effort.
Noura gets up and walks towards her tent. He follows after her, his sword clutched in his hand. She turns to him before entering the tent. He lifts up the flap for her.
"Go, sayidati, and rest well. I'll be here guarding."
Noura swallows and nods, turning back around and getting inside her tent. She lies down on her bed, looking through the crack in the flap whenever the wind flutters it to Adam sitting outside. She feels sorry for the man, but most of all, she still is shocked by what has just happened. No matter what lies she tells herself, deep down she's now sure that the theft in her name is nothing but a plot. And the culprit is out there having her under his watch. The thought sends shivers up her spine.
Who? Why?
She presses her palm to her chest. Her heart is still beating erratically underneath. She fists her hand over it, clenching her eyes shut.
"I'll find you," she sends a silent vow in the air.
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Ready for the palace?
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