I loitered around the grand hall, guiding and observing the servants. It was strange to be back. Strange to have people greet me from the distance, servants who I'd grown up with now looked at me with new respect in their eyes. Sweet and gentle Asma, the new chief of the household, moved around trying to get everything in order.
"How's everything? How are you fitting in?" Sanaa asked after I'd inquired about Uncle Yaqoob's health, placing the set of spoons on the table.
I straightened the silk table mat and met her gaze, stalling. "What do you mean?"
"Your husband, the family. We haven't had much time to talk." She sat back on her heels, her face troubled. "The last we saw each other I was running for my life."
I raised an eyebrow. "Why was that exactly?"
"People were chasing me. And then your husband saw me running with your handmaidens in tow and came after us."
It wasn't Ali who was chasing her?
"Who was chasing you?"
Sanaa swallowed audibly. "A large, tall woman," Afet.
That woman was the source of all my problems at the moment. Advising Mehmet, leading a rebellion. Being stubborn.
"Huh. You might see her today," she looked at me, her eyes wide and questioning. "She's part of Mehmet's entourage."
Her eyes widened and I dragged her through the corridor and into my old room.
"I don't like this Laila." She muttered as I began.
"Neither do I. I need your advice."
I watched the expressions flit over face rapidly. "So you're telling me...?"
"He was tricked. He systematically killed the rebels until they fled to the Seljukian border. They refused to hand them over and now they've been involved in ransacking caravans, fighting traders, causing unrest, and whatnot."
"Do you believe him?" I nodded. "Oh my God. He's not a forgiving man is he?" I flinched at those words, not quite believing them anymore.
Now that I knew him and I'd seen him for what he truly was. I'd seen his mind for organization—his quiet intelligence and his compassion—in every aspect of life. In his troops. In the careful attention to detail. In dealing with the refugees. In caring for me.
He was everywhere.
Even if Mehmet didn't see this simple truth. Even if Sanaa didn't believe it. Even if the whole world didn't believe me.
"He's not like that."
"You know him better than I do, but you have to help him."
"What? Did you not hear about Mehmet and his crazy ideas? About Afet?"
"They've gone crazy. They're insane. They want you to sacrifice your life for a cause that hasn't fully materialized and has no merit." She said, sitting down beside me.
"I fear he's being used. To weaken the Caliphate. Where is he getting his funding from? The arms and supplies? Why are the rebels with him?"
"All good questions. Does the Prince know?" I shook my head. "You have to tell him, Laila. This puts your life in danger, his life in danger."
"I'll have to deal with this tactfully..."
She nodded. "And the birth control herb?"
"I still don't know where I stand Sanaa. I don't know what the world would be like! I can't bring a child in this world when we're on the brink of war!"
"It should be a mutual decision. The Prince should have a say in this don't you think?"
"A child doesn't alter his position, it changes mine."
"Becoming a father is a big change," I stayed quiet. "Since when did you start thinking about power moves?"
"Since I realized how my life could change in a second."
"Establish your loyalty, Laila. You're playing a dangerous game. Haleema could tell this to the Caliph. She could expose you the moment she suspects you're not on their side," Guilt and understanding flowed through me. "Where would you stand then?"
The mashrabiya overlooked the front gardens, the cozy window seat covered in red and gold cushions, its intricate wooden screens hiding my private nook. Baba had this made for my Mother before she'd passed away. Brightly embroidered tapestries—identical to the one in the grand hall—adorned the walls, and a stunning teak desk anchored the room. Nile lotus blooms grew lush within a raised marble fountain that lined the wall, the clear water inside passing over warm brownstones. It was the only place I'd felt close to her.
"Your maid told me I'd find you here," I turned around to find my husband leaning against the doorway, looking as immaculate as ever.
"What are you doing here? It's not proper, you're supposed to be with the men!"
He walked in and circled his arms around me.
"I wanted to see you," Ali whispered, running the tip of his nose beside my ear, a smile upon his lips.
"You saw me three hours ago," I muttered, a smile ghosting over my lips.
"Still wanted to see you," My heart stopped, then started again, faster, and more fervent than ever before. Would I ever stop feeling this way with him?
"Ali, someone might see us," I said half-heartedly, sighing, content in his arms.
"No one's going to come here," that I was sure of, but I needed some time to collect my thoughts.
"I-" He brushed a tentative kiss to the furrow of my lips. Then he settled his mouth fully against mine and I forgot what I was about to say. His hand moved to my cheek, drawing me closer, his mouth sliding mine open.
"I just can't stay away from my beautiful wife," I clutched at the fine linen of his shirt, trying not to fall into him.
His kisses were the perfect mix of hard and soft. Practiced and unrestrained.
Voices sounded from outside and I jumped back. "They're here. You have to go now!"
Instead of a response, Ali buried his face in my dark waves, taking in the fragrance of lilacs. I looked at the line of carriages and horses winding up the courtyard.
"Why is the whole court here?"
He placed a hand on my waist, pulling me against him."War negotiations."
"Here?"
"The Emir insisted," he said into my neck and I released a pent-up breath, placing my hands on his chest.
"Why?" He stayed silent. "Because of Morocco?" The muscle underneath his eye twitched. I took a deep breath, it was now or never. The desire to draw attention to Mehmet's plans was always at the forefront of my mind, but Sanaa's earlier admonition continued to ring true: I had to be careful.
And I could not behave in such a reckless manner.
Not with the welfare of my family at stake.
Would he look at me with eyes of betrayal? Eyes of judgment?
"Ali, do you trust me?" He stared up at me, his features inscrutable— His eyes inciting my heart to riot.
And it did.
The thin golden veil separated the men's section from the ladies. Noblemen and women from the city, all sat down to break bread with the Caliph, the Princes, and the new Turkish contender. A well-tended leg of roasted lamb was placed at the center of the table. Its serving platter was an immense affair of hammered silver, dented on all sides from age and use. I smiled at Asma's choice. This was Mother's prized possession, the set of two was part of the few things she'd managed to carry over after she and her family were attacked by a rival Turkish tribe.
Mehmet was bound to remember this. Maybe that would remind him of the true cost of war.
Thick slices of bread, coated with butter and rolled in black sesame seeds, were left in baskets nearby, alongside gold-coated bowls of whole radishes and slabs of salted goat cheese. As soon as Bismillah was recited, the women reached for the radishes and tore hearty chunks of in half before grabbing at the meat.
Light conversation resumed on both ends.
Zaynab and I sat together, fielding the host of questions thrown our way. Amina sat on the other side of the table, her attention occupied by the wife of one of Khalid's Bannerman. Afet sat in front of us struggling to contain her expression at the pointed inquiries made about her height and her job description.
"That's outrageous," Zaynab lifted her brows at Mehmet's outraged voice, her hand hovering above the meat. "We respect the Caliph but you can not ask this of us."
"He asked about your funding Mehmet. If we're to support this war of yours, we need to know about your other allies. You should do well to answer that." The Caliph answered, his tone airy despite the veiled rebuke.
"Many of our...funds were procured by selling goods."
The other women around us crushed stems of fresh mint before pouring dark streams of tea over the fragrant leaves, handing it around the group, their ears straining to hear more.
"Selling goods? Such as?"
"Do you want the whole ledger Prince? Why don't you ask my accountant?"
"I would if there was one here," Ali said with a dry laugh.
"He is right," Khalid intervened. "We need to know more about these supporters of yours."
"We also want the rebels to cease their activities in our land. A new line will be drawn to map our territories and until that is finalized, we will not supply the men needed for this war," Ali continued, every bit of an arrogant royal.
"Time is running out of our hands. I need an army and a Queen to seize my throne," Mehmet managed, his voice wobbling slightly.
"A throne you're eligible for because of my marriage to your cousin," Ali's voice turned dark.
"A throne I am eligible for because of my blood."
"A bloodline that's all but finished."
"Is that what you want Prince? For the Seljuk's to perish? If we don't succeed, your wife will never be safe," I closed my eyes.
The guilt was back and in full force. I was the one who'd made this a burning disaster. I'd asked my husband, the boy I trusted to manage an insurmountable task without my support. And now he was being threatened in front of the whole court. In my father's house.
"Are you threatening me?"
"No, I'm warning you." My entire body froze, my fingers poised around my cup. The tension renewing its grip on my body, guilt coiling around my stomach with snakelike savagery.
"The safety of your wife is contingent on your support for me."
"That seems like a threat," Ali, please hold your temper in check. "A threat against my wife is a threat against me."
Shock ripples amongst the women around me, their gazes fixated on my features.
"Enough." The Caliph interjected. "We will discuss this once the maps have been drawn. Khalil and Jibran, you are in charge of this for now. Abdullah, what did you say about the trouble in the west?"
"Rebel movements have been documented in Morroco," Baba muttered, his voice a low hum.
"Ali is the heir to the Emir of Cairo," I could hear the calculative edge in the Caliph's voice. "We'll be forming a new province, with Egypt, Libya, Algeria and now with our newest conquest, Morroco," Silence echoed around us. "Prince Ali will be traveling to Jibal al Atlas. And the Princess will accompany him."
*******************************************
Look at us, we're so fancy 😍