SAMPLE CHAPTERS ONLY

His memories of her are cursed ghosts anchored to his bones. They’ve become shackles at his feet. Wherever he goes, now that he has found her, he circles back to her. And in his folly, he doesn’t bother saving himself.

“What is your name?”

He smiles, recalling the day they first met as children. He was very shy, and she was a tempest.

“Why won’t you tell me? Do you have no name?”

How she had poked his shoulder to make him talk, and how he had failed in every attempt to shoo her away.

“My name is Noura.”

“Noura…”

“I’ll sing you a poem my baba taught me.”

Her voice drifts to him as though from a dream.

“Butterflies and roses…”

⁀➴

“She’s a mare?”

“Yes.”

“Does she have a name?”

“Hayat.”

“Beautiful.”

The sky is tinted with pink and orange as another long day comes to an end. Fragments of clouds sail above them, thin and fragile, and by nightfall the heavens may be adorned with stars again, perhaps a myriad smiling down upon the valley.

She sits on a rock, watching Adam feed his mare. They’ve been traveling together for two weeks, and soon, they’ll arrive at Baghdad.

Though she tried at first to ignore him, Adam makes little effort to charm her either. He mostly keeps to himself, speaking to her only when necessary. Yet traveling alone with him makes it impossible to avoid him entirely. She has too many questions, and he is the only one around.

“What’s the name of my horse?” she asks, referring to the gray steed she has been riding.

He shrugs a shoulder. “I don’t know.”

“Can I name him?”

He glances at her. “Yes.”

She smiles.

Adam resumes his business without returning it. If he feels any strain from carrying the conversation, he doesn’t show it. His face stays expressionless, his eyes vacant.

There’s something intimidating about him, something unsettling. She doesn’t know if it’s because he is the queen’s personal guard. But she knows that if she tries to escape, he will certainly find her, as he promised. Even when the thought crosses her mind more than once, she never entertains it. She doesn’t wish to fall into the man’s bad graces. Though unlike Commander Muawwiz, he’s rather decent.

“Sayyidi?”

He hums.

“How is the queen?” she asks, partly out of curiosity, partly out of boredom.

If she doesn’t begin a conversation with him, he never does on his own. The lengthy silence between them and the hollow echoes of their surroundings make her restless. She doesn’t want to feel alone, to drown in the misery of being away from home. One way or the other, she has to fight her way through. For herself. For her family.

“You’ll know when you meet her, sayyidati,” Adam replies.

“Will you not tell me about her?” she insists.

“What do you want to know?”

“Is she very beautiful?” She rests her chin on her palm. “I’ve heard Yusuf bin Khalid never had another woman besides her.”

He finishes feeding the horses and begins gathering twigs and sticks for the fire. At her words, he pauses, and their eyes lock again.

“It would be dishonorable of me to speak so blatantly of my master’s wife.”

She blinks, momentarily speechless. Then, with a small nod, she says, “Pardon my thoughtlessness.”

Adam strikes flint against steel, coaxing flames to life. She leaves her spot to help him prepare the meal.

“You served Ameer Yusuf?” she continues.

He nods. “I was a slave freed by him. He made me part of his army. After the rebellion, when he was dethroned, I was assigned as the Malika’s guard.”

A thousand thoughts spin in her head. So that’s why Muawwiz called him a slave.

“You don’t serve in the army anymore?”

“I do.”

“Under Eskander?”

A muscle jumps in his jaw. “Yes. He’s the general, after all.”

“The commander didn’t seem to like it.” She pours water into a pot. “And neither do you.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that.”

“Just as you’ve held me captive for theft, yet still call me a lady?”

Instead of taking offense, he smiles and looks away. “Can I be so bold as to speak ill of the general, knowing he’s your family?”

She chuckles, low and ironic. “You’re very considerate.”

“You don’t see what I do.”

“And that is?”

He sets the water to boil as he answers, “It’s nothing personal. He served Suleiman bin Khalid. I served Ameer Yusuf. Now, al-Shafay rules in Ameer Yusuf’s name, not Suleiman bin Khalid.”

She knits her brows. “Does it matter when Eskander has been serving al-Shafay fairly during his rule?”

“If Suleiman bin Khalid returns, many loyalties would quickly shift,” he argues, calm and composed.

She sits back, interested in the subject of their discussion. She cannot let this opportunity go to waste.

“If Suleiman bin Khalid returns, al-Shafay should step down and let the rightful heir take the throne.”

“He’s a traitor,” Adam is quick to point out. “He rebelled against the caliph—his brother.”

“If Yusuf bin Khalid didn’t give him a reason—”

“Enough.” His voice slices through her, sharper than a blade. “You don’t know anything.”

“Enlighten me then,” she snaps back, unable to stop herself. “Just because you served one prince doesn’t mean the other doesn’t deserve a chance to rule.”

His gaze hardens, anger straining the cords in his neck. For the first time, she draws such a reaction from him. And she doesn’t like it.

“I’m not a man of greed.” Despite his obvious displeasure, he manages to keep his tone even. “But between the brothers, if I have to choose, I’d rather stand by the one who brought peace than the one who brought war upon this land.”

“Of course. One shouldn’t bite the hand that has fed them.”

He smirks, tossing ingredients into the broth. “You speak the tongue of your brother. He’s cunning, and not entirely trustworthy.”

“It must take someone like him to truly know him.”

Her voice grows bitter, her blood boiling like the broth. What began as a quest for information has quickly become a defensive argument.

“I thought you were better than that commander,” she remarks.

“You thought right.”

She scoffs and rises to her feet, dusting her cloak. “I’ll take a walk to stretch my legs.”

He doesn’t protest, his expression unreadable.

She wanders toward the nearby marsh, walking along its edge. Date palm trees rise in the distance, but she stays where Adam can see her.

The pink of the sky blends into purple, the horizon painted red. When she kicks a stone into the marsh, ripples spread across the water. Then another. They distort her reflection. She doesn’t like the sorrow in her eyes. She doesn’t want to keep staring at it.

How power earns one enemies, she wonders. How the commander tried to smear Eskander’s name, accusing him of a theft he didn’t commit. How Adam isn’t his ally either. And there must be more.

Does the palace ever feel like home to Eskander? She doubts it more and more. How can he be happy there? Yet she has never heard him utter a complaint to her. If anything, he shares only the good, perhaps keeping the bad to himself.

She remembers the palace vaguely. As a child, it had seemed like something out of a fairy tale. Now, being taken back as a captive, it seems nothing more than a gilded cage.

She finds a rock and settles down. Twilight slowly fades before her eyes as the universe darkens. How does she live in a world that isn’t her own? She exhales, trying to soothe the ache in her chest.

“Our meal is ready.”

She doesn’t turn around at Adam’s voice. He remains standing nearby, his shadow stretching beside hers.

“Do you want some dates?” he asks.

“No.”

“I’ll get some.”

She waits as he fetches her the fruit, the gesture bringing a small smile to her lips.

She leaves the rock and returns to their shelter. They eat in silence. Once done, she excuses herself and prays isha inside the tent. He prays outside.

As expected, the night sky is littered with stars. Her skin prickles with goosebumps as she steps out. She pulls the cloak tighter around herself and settles by the trunk of a felled tree, gazing upward.

When she was little, her father would tell her stories and poems of kings and queens. Back then, too innocent to see the lies behind them, she dreamed of being part of those tales. But now that her wish is granted, it has become a nightmare rather than a dream.

“Butterflies and roses,” she sings softly, closing her eyes, trying to ease her worries as her father once did. “Nightingales and proses.”

The wind hums with her, making her shiver.

“All the world fades away, love is only what must stay.” She presses her head against the tree bark. “She is who he chooses, he is who she chooses.”

Sleep takes her, and before she knows it, she drifts into nothingness. She dreams of things that don’t last. One dream merges into another before an eternity passes.

Something brushes her face. She groans, forcing her eyes open. Her mind is foggy, and nothing makes sense at first. It takes a while for her vision to adjust to the dark, and she is grateful for the moonlight illuminating the night.

Sitting up, she finds a figure looming before her. A steed. Adam might have forgotten to tie their animals. How careless of him.

This one is different. Bigger than his mare. Bigger than hers. Almost like the horse the thief outside her house had ridden. And then it hits her—it’s not theirs.

A chill runs down her spine. She straightens, her lips parting. But no sound leaves her, not even her breath.

Her eyes flick around. Adam is sleeping a little distance away by the burned-out fire. His cloak covers her, as she too had fallen asleep outside the tent. She drags it off her body.

It’s the thief’s horse. She can never forget it. Someone else must be here. The thought makes her shudder as she creeps toward Adam, her pulse racing. The horse edges away.

Her steps are hurried but quiet. She drops to her knees beside him.

“Sayyidi?” she chokes, her breath catching. “Wake up, A-Adam…”

He rolls toward her and rubs his eyes. It takes him only a heartbeat to realize she’s sitting beside him.

“Noura?”

“Someone is here,” she whispers, scooting closer to him.

His hand flies to his sword. “Who?”

“The thief… the caliph’s seal…”

He pushes himself up. “Did you see anyone?”

“The horse—that day. I s-saw the same horse again.”

“Calm down.” His voice is hushed, soothing. “This is a safe place. We’re close to Baghdad. Caravans pass through this road all the time. Perhaps you were mistaken—”

“No,” she hisses. “It was the same horse—I can’t be wrong. But you’d rather call me a liar.”

“Fine.” He raises his palms in defeat. “I’m here. No harm will befall you. Now fear not and go back to sleep. I’ll be awake if anyone appears.”

He searches for something in the dark, then passes her a dagger. She clasps it tightly as she walks back toward her tent. Adam follows her, his sword gripped in hand.

He lifts the flap of the tent for her. “Sleep, sayyidati, and be at peace. I’ll be on guard.”

Noura enters her tent. She lies down under the blanket, glancing through the crack in the flaps at Adam. His presence quiets her fears, though she’s sorry to have woken him and put him on guard. Still, most of all, she remains shaken by what has just happened.

No matter what lies she tells herself, deep down she’s sure that the theft in her name is nothing but a plot. And the real thief is out there, keeping her under his watch. The thought wraps her in cold dread.

Who? Why?

She presses her palm to her chest. Her heart beats madly beneath it. She curls her hand into a fist over it, clenching her eyes shut.

“I’ll find you,” she vows silently to the air.