An arm behind his back. The other across his front. Head held high. Saif ul Malook carried himself like a true prince. His pacing, however, was something unbecoming of his royal name.

Arham, delicately sipping from a goblet of wine, peered curiously at the Prince from his seat in the divan. The knowledge of medicine had trained his eye to sense even the slightest of discomforts and at present, Saif ul Malook exhibited enough to cause worry for the young man. He wanted to inquire but did not wish to waste good wine on this matter.

Fateh was seated on the carpet below and seemed fully engrossed in the scroll he had brought along with him. Ignorance clearly afforded him some comfort in this hour.

"What have we been summoned for?" Arham whispered to Fateh.

Fateh looked up from his scroll and silently shook his head. Clearly he knew no more than his companion.

"Shall we ask His Lordship?" Fateh suggested.

"You know better than I that His Lordship cannot be coerced into such a thing," Arham sighed.

"I need your help."

He two instantly looked up to find that the prince had joined in their whispers. In his haste to assume a more appropriate position, Arham accidentally spilled the contents of goblet onto Fateh, earning a sharp hiss from the future Wazir as he scrambled to his feet.

"My robes!" he complained, frowning at the damage.

"I did not intend for that," Arham defended himself. "Do accept my apologies."

"I will have you buy me new ones."

"But of course. Perhaps you would like one made by my sister, Kali."

At the mention of that name, Fateh instantly turned away from Arham. The man knew well of his fancy for his sister and felt no shame in abusing it.

"Must your person be so absent of any honour?" Fateh groaned.

"Enough," Saif ul Malook yelled, dismissing their trivial banter. "I have something far more serious at hand than your petty fancies."

"I believe he is ready to confide," Arham chuckled. "Your Lordship, do us the honour of knowing what worries your mind. We may have the remedy."

"I think I'm in love," Saif replied earnestly.

"I have no remedy," Fateh dropped his head in his hands.

Arham was undecided between appeasing his concern or simply dissolving into unrestrained laughter. He assumed the latter would be extremely uncivil for his rank.

"Forgive me for being so bold but is this not petty fancy?" He spoke against better judgement.

Saif ul Malook abandoned all restraint and screamed his frustration at the sky. It felt comforting, only for a brief moment, until the vision of his precious Pari resurfaced and he was plunged into the plight once more.

"I did not think a maiden who could refuse the Crowned Prince existed," Fateh said, tilting his head. "Pray tell who is this lady of such an elusive heart."

"It's that Faerie," Saif whispered after a long pause.

Arham and Fateh blinked at each other.

After the day of the hunt, the two had been provided a brief recollection of the Prince's encounter with the demon creature. He had told them how he had chanced upon her in a hidden place and the exchange that had followed, and while the two had listened with great attention, neither could be convinced that she was any more real than a dream. In part, it was the reason Saif had kept silent about his other excursions to see her.

"Your Lordship, are you still haunted by that dream?" Fateh asked.

"It was not a dream," Saif insisted, struggling to contain his agitation. "I know she is real."

"How, Your Lordship?" Arham groaned. "How can you be sure that something you saw only briefly in the mountain is real?"

"I know because I spoke to her," Saif sighed. "She is real."

"I have doubts," Fateh spoke for Arham. "Also, I must bring it to your knowledge that demons are not to be tempered with."

This was the only thing of sense Saif ul Malook had heard in this entire conversation.

"What do you know of demons?" he asked, his tone commanding. "Tell me all that you have heard."

"I do not claim to know much," Fateh confessed, clutching the scroll. "I only know the hearsay of the heretics."

"Tell me regardless," Saif groaned, growing impatient. "What do we know about demons?"

Fateh gave a worried look to Arham. There was no escaping a direct order.

"Demons are stubborn creatures," Fateh began. "They have been given great power and are not afraid to exercise them on either man or demon. They possess with them a will stronger than man, and you and I both know the will of a man. For demons, it is simply a matter of getting precisely what they desire and they seldom settle for less."

"Are you insinuating that this Faerie has used her powers to enthrall His Lordship?" Arham suddenly sounded interested.

"I would not assume it beneath her," Fateh replied.

Saif ul Malook could never believe that his pari had indulged such a thought. If anything, she seemed more anxious to rid herself of him.

"What else do you know?" The Prince asked further.

"You should never invoke the wrath of a demon," Fateh said as he looked Saif in the eyes. "Never steal what belongs to them."

"That caution is at least a few days late," Said mumbled, recalling his little feat.

"What does His Lordship mean?" Arham leaned in.

"Nothing of substance," the Prince dismissed. "Fateh, where did you hear all this?"

Fateh gave a heavy sigh as he retrieved the scroll from his side. He so desperately wished the night had not swayed into a conversation about demons.

"I did not directly hear," he answered honestly, "but I know of an old Darvesh who claims to have knowledge of the matter. Word travelled from him to my father. It was not useful in the slightest, I'd say."

"Where can I find this Darvesh?" Saif demanded.

"In the outskirts of the main city. He lives close to Eastern Borders, the farthest you can be from the main palace."

Saif ul Malook allowed that to be the end of the discussion. His next visit would be to this Darvesh in hopes that he would have a remedy.

Two days after the summoning, The prince departed from the castle in his search.

He chose to travel in the mid hours of the night in hopes that it would save him trouble with the palace guards. Despite his caution, the errand of fetching Rana alone from the stables had been a challenge of its own. He had to bribe one of the stable boys to bring the mare and not sleep until he had returned. Following that, he had ridden her on a trot across the deserted streets of the sleeping city until he had reached the outskirts.

The sight of these impoverished parts in the veil of the night roused fear. Shadows hanging low in the distant street glared viciously and whispers carried on the cold winds spoke of danger. There was a faint scent of smoke, which told of the homeless huddled around a fire for warmth. Saif guided his mare with extreme caution, his eyes searching or the faintest signs of movements. He prayed he would be able to make the journey without anything too exciting.

Soon enough, the Prince began to notice the settlements thinning as he reached the borders of the outskirts. The road beneath disappeared into a path of dirt and trees filled the vision, broken only by the occasional sight of a wooden cottage or a small cabin further out from the city. The only thing remarkable was a slightly larger establishment surrounded by a garden of jasmines, which he knew to belong to a respectable man of old age.

"It should be further down from here," Saif mumbled to himself, a gloved hand stroking his horse.

He loosed the reins in his hands and gave Rana a kick, earning a cry of protest from the mare before she plunged into a full gallop. She carried him past the trees and deeper into the woods until his eyes finally found the shabby looking abode that could almost be passed for an abandoned cabin.

"It has to be it," Saif breathed, pulling Rana to a halt.

He proceeded to dismount the mare and tie her reins to a nearby tree. Then, with a quick stroke up her neck, he made his way towards the cabin.

The state of this shabby settlement was quite distressing to the prince. Rotting wood made up the walls of a small space, which could barely house a single man, and an unruly arrangement of branches formed a shelter overhead. The remains of dead leaves scattered over told of vain efforts to guard against the cold.

"I don't suppose he has room for me to sit," Saif sighed.

He walked the few steps up to what he assumed was the door and gave it a light knock. Then, suddenly alarmed, he hastened back and readied his hand on his sword.

"Who goes there?" he heard a growl.

He felt the rush of blood to his head as his heart began to pound wildly. It took his all to not falter in his resolve and remain steady on his feet.

"I come to see the Darvesh," he announced, hoping there was enough power in his words to not give him away. "Are you the man?"

"What is it that you would want with an old man?" the voice spat.

"I come in peace. I simply wish to learn of something from the Darvesh. I am willing to make a generous payment."

At the sound of his offer, the crooked door flung over and out came a frail old man. It was not until he had stepped into the light that Saif saw his balding head and face deep in wrinkles. He must have been lame in a foot for he walked in uneven steps.

"You lie!" he yelled, an accusing finger pointing at the prince. "You bring me nothing but death!"

Realizing that he still had his hands on his sword, Saif ul Malook quickly removed them and hurried to find the pouch of gold from his robes.

"I do not," he said, holding up the sack. "I promise. I mean you no harm. I am more helpless than you."

The old man glared at him, his aged eyes unblinking as if he could see into the soul, then gave a scornful smile.

"You are the Prince," he declared. "You dare not deny it or by the word of God, you will have no help from me!"

"I will not," Saif replied with a respectful bow to the eolderly. "I am Saif ul Malook, crowned prince of the kingdom."

The Darvesh threw a look over his shoulders. Saif ul Malook heard him mutter something that surely could have been a curse. Then, at an agonizingly slow pace, the man closed the door of his cabin and began walking towards the trees.

"Might I ask where you are going?" Saif asked as he followed along. "I can take you on my horse."

"We are not going far," he replied, his voice hoarse. "I have no place for a guest, let alone the Prince. We shall converse near the trees."

Saif ul Malook hurried to the old man, took his arm, and with a little reluctance, gained the blessing of the elderly to help in his walk. It took twice as long as it should have for the two to reach the nearest tree. Saif continued to help the elderly until he had seated himself on the ground. Then, taking a place opposite, he waited to be addressed.

"I have seen many strange men come to me," The Darvesh spoke. "Never did I hope to see the Prince grace me with his presence."

"Do not think of it as grace," Saif ul Malook spoke kindly. "Think me no better than the strange men."

"Why would His Lordship insist on something so treasonous?" he asked and coughed.

"Because my plight is no different from a common man. I am in love."

His confession was received with a shrill cackle of the aged man.

"Love?" he narrowed his eyes. "Have you nothing better to come to me than common love?"

"My love may well not be common," Saif sighed, feeling his heart sink. "I am in love with a Faerie."

The smile on the Darvesh vanished and he suddenly leaned in, his eyes gaining a light that had previously been absent.

"Where did you see one?" he asked.

"I must not say," Saif replied, holding the stone gaze. "I know she is as real as you and I."

"The Merciful Lord keeps them safe," the Darvesh shrieked into the trees.

Saif ul Malook observed in sheer bewilderment as the Darvesh threw his arms into the sky, gazing fiercely into the trees that roared with the night winds. For a brief moment, he caught sight of a figure and nearly rose to his feet, but as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished from sight.

"The Faeries disappeared years ago," the Darvesh spoke to Saif again. "I wish I had seen one when I had the strength."

Saif was quick to recall that the faeries had moved into the mountains with the White Horned Giants. Seeing the old man, guilt rose in his heart and he wished he could tell the Darvesh where the faeries had taken refuge. Then, his better judgement claimed sense.

"I can show you one," he said. "If you help me win her heart, I will bring her to see you. I will take my marriage blessing from none but you."

"Win her heart," The man considered. "She must have given you some task, one impossible for man. It is their only way of indulging the affections of a human."

"She has indeed," he replied. "I must go to her in Koh-e-kaaf."

Fear crossed the cold gaze and Saif ul Malook knew he had uttered something he should not have.

"Koh-e-Kaaf," he repeated. "The castle of the White Horned Giants. You will never be able to make that journey."

"I must," The Prince sounded determined. "I must if I have any hope. Please, say there is a way!"

"I never said there is no way," The Darvesh answered, stroking his beard. "You will never make that journey alone. You will need a demon to get you inside."

"How do I get a demon?"

"You do not. If you wish to see heaven after death, you do not call upon one with the forbidden ways."

"Dark magic."

Saif ul Malook breathed a heavy sigh and buried his face in his hands. His conscience burned and his heart raged. His soul cried in desire for what he could not have.

"There is another way." hope came.

"Tell me" Saif shot from his place.

He appeared ready to beg for this remedy, something terrifyingly humiliating for a man of his stature. The Prince no longer cared.

"You must pray to God," the man spoke. "Pray for 40 nights. Eat no more than a cup of rice and water. Then, if God wills, you will be rewarded with a demon guide."

The Darvesh began the struggle to rise to his feet. Saif ul Malook was instantly at his side and began to help the man back to the cabin.

"Take this," Saif pushed the money into his palm. "I will have someone sent to help you."

"Bless the Prince," the Darvesh nodded. "He is of a good heart."

"Let us hope my heart is good enough to win the favour of God."

The prince bid farewell to the Darvesh and returned to where he had left Rana. Then, mounting his beast, he rode back to the palace with a newfound resolve.

The very next day, he declared that he would be going into a period of fasting, whereby he would abstain from all food and drink save for the cup of rice and water. His decision caused much commotion but he managed to gain favor by stating that it was all to pray for the well-being of the kingdom's future. This could be true. To have a Faerie by his side as a Queen was sure to bring prosperity, even if it was through demonic powers. If nothing else, his own sanity was necessary for his reign.

The next forty days passed as if they had been forty years. Saif ul Malook confined himself to his own chambers and devoted himself to prayer for every moment of the day, emerging only to collect his measly serving of rice and water. At night, he would dream of Badri Jamala, believing them to be visions from her life with the faerie demons. Each passing day left him with mounting exhaustion from the last and he would find himself wishing to abandon the ritual. But each night, the dream of his beloved Pari doing something mundane would help him persevere.

It was the night of the fortieth day and Saif ul Malook greatly feared that he would not be able to finish the ritual. His body was weakening and he could barely keep himself upright for the prayer. His heavy eyelids refused to remain open as he felt all his senses fade.

"Human!" he heard a voice, but it sounded so far away.

"Give him the food, Sur!" another voice. "He needs strength, not concern!"

Saif ul Malook could feel this creature slowly turning him, but he had no strength to resist. Slowly, it pulled his head up and pressed something soft to his lips.

"Taste it," the creature said. "You need only take a bite. You will be alright."

Too weak to argue, the Prince nibbled on this fruit, swallowing it before he could even fully sense the taste. In the next moment, he was sitting up and practically devouring the rest.

"Oh, he is alright," one of them cheered. "I am so relieved to see he lived!"

"Yes, he lives," the other voice sounded indifferent. "You have had your concerns assuaged. Now can we leave?"

Saif ul Malook looked up with widened eyes and threw his hands in protestation. Leaving was not supposed to be a choice for them.

"Don't leave!" he pleaded, coughing. "You cannot leave!"

"Faaki'r," Sur said, "can we not stay a while longer?"

"Absolutely not!" The one he had called Faaki'r growled. "You wanted to help this lunatic live! That was all that we settled!"

"If you leave, I might not live," Saif spoke with great pain. "Please, don't leave. I did this all to summon you!"

The prince had gained enough of his senses to finally make out their appearance. Faaki'r was grand, towering over with his ashen body and horns of a wild musk. Sur, in contrast, was no taller than the prince with tawny skin and tusks barely visible in the stalks of his hair.

Had it been any other man, they would have fled at the mere sight of these demonic creatures.

"Faaki'r, was it?" Saif dared to address the demon by his name. "I beg you to not leave."

"You have some courage to ask that so bluntly," the demon groaned. "What have you to offer in return?"

"Must I have something to offer?"

"There is very little a human could give a demon."

Saif ul Malook sighed as he rose from his feet and walked closer to Sur. Surely, the other would be more thoughtful of his plight.

"Sur," he spoke, "I thank you for having come to me in my weakest hour. I might have not lived if you had not."

"I pitied you," the demon admitted, smiling. "It had nothing to do with wanting something in return."

"What did you give me?" the prince asked.

"A fruit from the demon world," Sur answered. "It is too strong for a human. But you were too weak for a human."

Everything Sur spoke came like a song. Saif assumed that was for what he had been named.

"Speaking to my brother will do you little good," Faaki'r spoke up, floating between the two. "I will not let him stay."

Saif ul Malook looked at the demon, holding his cold gaze. Then, ever so slowly, his lips curled into a wicked smile.

"I believe your brother wishes to speak to me," the Prince said, pushing the demon with a finger. "I must comply with said wish. I am still a pathetic human before him."

"There is no need," Sur declined, slightly flustered. "You don't have to submit to me."

"You really don't have to submit to him," Faaki'r concurred. "You listen only to me, the older of us two!"

"Sur," Saif said, ignoring Faaki'r. "Is there anything I can offer for you to stay?"

"Not quite," the demon replied, scratching one of his horns. "I do say, I have always fancied one of those things humans use when singing. It has strings across its body."

"Setar?" Saif asked.

"I think so."

Faaki'r slapped a palm to his forehead and shook violently. To think his brother could be coerced with something so trivial as a musical trinket was baffling to him.

"I can arrange one for you," Saif offered. "Believe me, it is but a command of my finger."

"Splendid," Sur cheered. "Can you have it done now?"

"Sur, No!" Faaki'r snapped, exasperated. "We are not staying!"

"What else will you have us do, brother?" Sur protested.

Saif ul Malook watched, petrified, as Sur threw himself at his brother, locking his frail tusks against the mightier ones of Faaki'r.

"Do you want us to return to the woods?" Sur sang dangerously. "I know you have been wanting to leave for a while. So why feel demeaned by having to live with a human?"

"He wants us to serve him!" Faaki'r shrieked.

"I do not," Saif managed to speak over the demon. "I will take you as my companions."

"Human and demon as companions?" Faaki'r questioned, his eyes narrowed. "Whoever heard of that?"

"They can hear of it now," Saif replied with a nod. "For something to be, there has to be a first, no?"

Faaki'r released his hold over his brother and floated closer to the human. Saif had tried to appease the fury of a demon, and he was fairly confident that he was succeeding. He needed only remain staunch in the face of that last glare to make things absolute.

"Fine," Faaki'r gave in. "Fetch me the platter of all of your finest delicacies!"

"I knew you would come around!" Sur sang for joy.

Suddenly, Saif ul Malook thought the forty days trail had been less excruciating than this divine providence.