Stars, hide your fires; let not light see my black and deep desires.

— William Shakespeare

THE SOUND OF metal hitting metal clashes with the noise from the crowd. Once. Twice. And so on. Almost deafening but far better than the sound of swords and cries in a battlefield. A lot less bothersome and haunting. But then he's a soldier. A general. What are the cries of a battle to bother him? His heart trembles no more at what his eyes see.

The bazaar is bustling and he cannot wait to get out of here. The blacksmith hits the sword with his hammer again. Marrar stands at the threshold of his workshop waiting for him to finish.

"I'll bring it to you when it's done, sayyidi," Dhiraar says to him over the noise, sensing his impatience. Marrar shakes his head in refusal.

"I asked you to keep an eye on the new boy. What's his name again?"

"Bassam?"

Marrar hums, leaning against the doorway. "Why does Furat need to bring him to the palace?"

"He's a gift to his wife, sayyidi."

"The Amira doesn't need a slave boy." He crosses his arms as he scans the people blending into the bazaar before him. "I've only seen him wandering around the palace with blank papers and charcoal pencils in his hand. What service is he to Amira Rahaf?"

"He draws," Dhiraar says, making Marrar lift an intrigued eyebrow.

"Draw what?"

"Whatever catches his eyes around the palace. The gardens. The halls. Sometimes simply the windows."

"People?"

"No, sayyidi. He looks quite harmless to me."

"Furat is no foolish man, Dhiraar. If he brings a young, seemingly naive boy in service of his wife, he's anything but harmless."

"But why would he bring anyone in the Amira's service if he can be of harm to her?" Dhiraar questions, not ready to accept that Furat can mean harm to his own wife. Marrar gives him a one-sided, sardonic smile.

"I didn't say the boy might mean harm to anyone. But that if Ameer Furat has brought him here, he must be of benefit to him in some way. I'm not expecting anything less from the man who has climbed his way into the royal family and so subtly acquired such rank and power."

"You don't seem to like Ameer Furat, sayyidi."

It's a statement, not a question, and Marrar chooses not to approve or disapprove. It isn't personal. And he doesn't know how to explain it to Dhiraar that Furat makes him wary for him. For whatever reason, all Marrar can see behind his eyes and warm and friendly self is deception. Perhaps because life once tested him with someone similar. Perhaps because he had been best friends with someone like him. Marrar shakes himself out of the thoughts.

"Do as I've told you to and keep an eye on the boy," Marrar instructs.

Dhiraar tips his head.

Before he can turn to the blacksmith to ask about his sword, someone in the crowd catches his attention. Their eyes connect and Marrar immediately straightens. The man quickly looks away from him and Marrar's skin covers in goosebumps. Impossible, he thinks. The man is covering his face and wearing a cloak but he cannot be mistaken. He cannot have just imagined the recognition passing between them.

"Stay here," he says to Dhiraar as he rushes after the man.

But he's already dissolving in the crowd. Marrar pushes through the people and tries to get closer. Though the more he tries, the farther the man seems to run away from him, only strengthening his doubts more. He chases after him.

Up ahead the man turns around a corner. Marrar follows. But the distance between them keeps increasing as the man tries to lose him. He glances back at him. Their eyes meet again and Marrar clenches his jaw. Traitor.

He tightens his hold on the hilt of his sword and intensifies his efforts to get to him. But before he can the man mounts a horse.

"Maymun!" Marrar yells after him.

And before he can stop him he snaps the reins and the horse gallops away from him. Marrar curses as he watches him escape under his nose.

"You bad lot. You weasel," he grits, mad with fury. "I'll find you. I'll kill you!"

He returns to the workshop, troubled and enraged. Dhiraar sees him approaching and comes to him, worried.

"Is everything alright, sayyidi?"

"Nothing is alright, Dhiraar. I saw Maymun. He's here in Qurtuba. God knows what for again."

Dhiraar's eye go wide and unsure. "How can that be? He left the city. Coming back to Qurtuba is like walking into the arms of death for him."

"I cannot be mistaken. I went after him and he tried to escape from me. He saw me and I saw the look in his eyes, like a guilty caught." Marrar runs his finger through his hair, his mind spinning and already fabricating a plan. "I'll return to the palace. I must inform Ameer Aswad. Bring my sword to me when the work is done here."

Dhiraar nods briskly and Marrar makes his way back to the palace.

WHEN HE RETURNS to the palace the sun is already halfway in the sky to sink. Passing the reins of his horse to one of the men at the stable, he rushes inside. He finds his way to the caliph's chamber where Tabrez stands guarding it.

"Inform the Ameer I wish to see him. It's urgent," he asks him.

"My apologies, general, but he's with the Malika right now and asked not to be disturbed."

Marrar stands outside his chamber, his restlessness growing. He clenches shut his eyes and pinches the skin between them. All he wants is for Maymun to be before him and strangle him to his death so he can be assured. Something that Aswad bin Motassem should've done long ago— to never let that snake escape knowing there was a chance of him coming back to bite them. He knows too much. He can create riots with his words alone. Yet the caliph has been lenient where he shouldn't have been and cruel where he could've been more forgiving.

"General Marrar?" Tabrez calls him.

Marrar looks at him.

"If there's a message for him, you may give it to me and I'll pass it to him."

Marrar thinks about it. Then he releases a breath and steps closer to Tabrez. "Tell Ameer Aswad that Maymun bin Yamaan has returned to Qurtuba."

Tabrez looks at him as if not believing him, eye going wide like Dhiraar's.

"And tell the Ameer I wish to speak to him regarding the matter, as soon as possible."

He leaves, thinking of sitting somewhere quiet to calm himself and think through this. Marrar stops at the library and steps inside. It's silent like a graveyard— just how he likes it. And he walks as stealthily so not to interrupt its silence. This has been his safe haven. During the day and in the middle of the night. Whenever he needs to be alone and think. Except for the times when he would run into Rahaf here. Or perhaps that has contributed to his liking for this place. A part of him feels guilty at the thought.

Then as if thinking about her has summoned her here, he hears someone humming. It's so faint before the person goes quiet again. Rahaf?

Marrar quickens in her direction. It can only be her at the library. Then realizing what he's doing, he stops as quickly and frowns. Having feelings for the woman he always knew was forbidden for him was one thing when she wasn't married, but now when she has a husband it's only more dangerous and unholy, especially when the said husband clearly has a dislike for him.

Deciding to leave the library, he quietly begins to retrace his footsteps. But then there's a loud crash of something falling. Marrar turns and strides back in the direction.

"Rahaf?"

He walks around a bookshelf and comes face to face with the last person he expected and wishes to face. Marajil bint Hirash stares at him from where she has fallen on the floor with a dozen books around her. He stares back at her in awkward silence. Suddenly the library isn't as comforting to him anymore.

"Not Rahaf," she mumbles and helps herself up.

"Are you alright, sayyidati?"

She nods and begins to pick up the books. Marrar steps forward to help her.

"I need them," she says before he can put the books back in place. Marrar eyes the stack in her hands.

"All of them?"

She nods, her cheeks tinting a light blush.

"Alright. Allow me to carry them with you."

"Don't bother—"

"I insist. Don't want another mishap, now do we?"

She lets him carry the books with her, half a dozen in his hands and two in hers.

"Where do you need me to put them?" he asks, hoping she doesn't intend to take them all to her chamber.

"Any of the tables here."

Marrar puts them down for her. They're all about human body. Strange preference unless she's a physician, he thinks to himself, which she doesn't look like to him. But he doesn't ask her about it.

"Thank you."

Marrar acknowledges it with a nod, gesturing towards the books. "You like to read?"

"Not everything, but yes."

"The Amira likes to read too and comes to the library often. That's why I assumed it was her earlier when I heard you fall," he explains, for some reason feeling the need to do so given he called her Rahaf earlier.

Marajil looks at him as if not understanding why he needs to tell her any of this. Her gaze on him makes him shift uncomfortably and ready to leave.

"You call the Amira by her name?"

Her question takes him off guard. It takes him a moment to gather himself and form a response.

"It's a habit from when we were very young. I don't call her by her name anymore except when my tongue slips in my mindlessness."

"But you looked disappointed that I wasn't her," she says in a hushed voice, almost as if daring him to disagree.

This woman stuns him with her audacity. She agitates him. If he wasn't a man of honor, he would've taken all the books back to the shelf and put them on the top row so she couldn't reach them.

Marrar draws his eyebrows together as he challenges her back. "Do you think you're qualified enough to read me and draw conclusions, sayyida Marajil?"

She blushes again and tries to hide her face. "I'm stating what I saw."

"Study about the human eye and improving vision so you may see better the next time and don't make such bold assumptions."

"My eyes are just fine," she retorts, offended, now glaring at him.

Marrar glares back. To think Aswad bin Motassem wants him to marry her. If he's to ever make such a sacrifice, he should be sent straight to heaven without reckoning.

Not knowing why he's wasting his time arguing with her, he gives up and turns to leave.

"You're rude!" she remarks.

He clenches his jaw, allowing a few seconds to escape, then smirks and turns back to her.

"I thought you said that I was good looking," he reminds her, referring to a comment she had previously made about him.

Her face colors crimson as she blushes more furiously than before. How easy is it to embarrass this woman?

"You— I... N-no," she stutters, struggling to respond. "I don't like men like you."

He huffs out a gruff, amused laugh. "I didn't know I was trying to impress you."

She tries to kill her with her eyes. But unfortunately for her, it doesn't deter him one bit. He turns his back to her and walks away.

ASWAD TRIES TO leave the bed but she holds him down. Adara circles her arm around his neck and pulls him back to her. Her body is warm and her skin a lot bare in the good-for-nothing dress she's wearing. She curls into his chest and nestles there.

"Adara—"

"Don't go," she pleas like a child. "I still feel unwell."

"I told you we should call a physician," he says whilst adjust the blanket over her. "Are you cold?"

"No, but my head hurts." She tangles her legs with his. "Hold me."

Aswad pets her hair and lies back down with her. Her eyes are closed and she's breathing down his neck and chest, her breath even warmer. He sighs and kisses her forehead.

"You worry me."

"I'll be fine."

"I still think I should call for a physician."

"Don't insist," she whines.

"You should listen to me," he argues.

"I'll bite you."

This makes him laugh low in his throat. She opens her eyes and looks at him. Aswad smiles at her.

"Your lips look good," she whispers.

"I thought you weren't feeling well."

"I'm not. So you should stay with me."

He pushes the hair back from face, revealing those spellbinding eyes. "Tabrez said Marrar has a message for me. Something urgent needs my attention."

"Must you go?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Fine."

She lets go of him and rolls away with her back to him. Aswad reaches forward to kiss her shoulder.

"I'll be back with you soon."

He finds his robe and wears it before leaving his chamber and making his way towards Marrar's. Tabrez has already informed him about the matter Marrar needs to speak to him about, but it's as if he needs to hear it from him to be sure. Unless Maymun bin Yamaan suddenly has a death wish, he'll never return to Qurtuba.

"My Ameer." Dhiraar tips his head at him when he arrives at the chamber and knocks on the door before opening it for him. "The general will be here in a little while. Something came up with the soldiers that he needed to check on."

Aswad nods and walks inside. Hamama jumps down from the bed and ready to sprint for him, thinking him to be Marrar. But she stops when she sees him.

"It's you!" She grins in excitement nonetheless. "My baba is not here."

Aswad smiles. "But you are."

"Are you here to meet me?" She comes towards him. "Do you have something for me?"

"Hamama?" The caretaker, Qailah, comes out from the adjacent room upon hearing their voices, Humran in her arms. She quickly tips her head when she sees him. "My Ameer."

"You may leave the children with me while I wait for Marrar."

She nods slowly and puts Humran down. He's now past one and has learnt to walk. With uneven but intent steps he walks to them.

"My brother is growing up," Hamama tells him, making him smile again with her sweet innocence.

"Indeed, he is. And so are you, my dove."

Qailah has left them alone. Aswad kneels down in time for Humran to walk into his arms. He giggles and curls his robe into his tiny fists. Aswad kisses him on his head before turning to Hamama and hugging her to himself, kissing her head too. She quietly lets him to. This isn't his first time sharing his time and affection with these children.

"What do you want me to get you, Hamama?"

"Can I ask you for anything?"

"You may, and I'll get it for you if I can," he promises.

"But you're the king! You can get anything," she protests, not giving him a chance to refuse.

Aswad chuckles and stands up, lifting both the children in his arms with him. He walks towards a chair and sits down, with Humran and Hamama on his lap.

"What do you need, habibti?"

"I don't want Rahaf to leave."

She looks at him with those big, dark eyes of her, pleading, as if he's her only hope to make it happen. But what does he tell a child? How does he even explain something like this to her? Aswad smiles sadly.

"Rahaf will come to meet you, Hamama."

Hamama slumps, unconvinced.

"I'll ask her to," he assures.

Humran lets out a cry, as if joining his sister in protest, and Aswad gently bounces him on his leg.

"Will you take me to her?" Hamama asks.

"That can be done too."

She grins, finally satisfied, and hugs him. Aswad holds her close to his heart. Such comfort it is to hold her and Humran. To have them before him. To have them safe. He doesn't know what he would've done if anything had happened to them when they lost their mother. It's been about a year and a half. If he had failed in taking care of them. If anything had happened to them, he would've burned down the world.

Hamama pulls back, still grinning, reminding him so much of her mother. It's the same smile, so lively and pure. One that should never have been touched and harmed.

The door to the chamber opens and Marrar walks in. Hamama jumps down from his lap and runs to him.

"Aswad is here, Baba!"

"Hamama," Marrar shushes her for calling him by his name.

Aswad shakes his head at him, letting it be. How else can she refer to him? She's just a child and he's a man without an explanation.

Qailah returns to take the children away. When he's left alone with Marrar, Aswad gestures for him to take a seat and he sits down on the chair near his.

"Tabrez told me you saw Maymun?" He get straight to the topic.

"I did, today at the bazaar while I took my sword to the blacksmith."

"Are you sure?"

"I am, sayyidi," Marrar affirms, looking worried. "He seemed to recognize me too. When I tried to follow him, he ran away from me."

Aswad leans back in the chair and tosses back his head. He stares absentmindedly at the ceiling, suddenly the events over the previous years playing before his eyes. He'll be lying if he says he isn't worried too. He understands Marrar.

"I thought he learnt better than that," he says. "But looks like a scorpion will always come to sting."

"Now what are you orders, my Ameer?" Marrar edges forward in his chair. "He knows things that he shouldn't. You know better, but I think we should've hunted him down and killed him instead of letting him get away and live."

"He knows the sins of my brother since he assisted him in committing them, but he doesn't know much beyond that. So long as he was away, he couldn't seek more. But now when he's back, he might try to find what he shouldn't."

Aswad rubs his eyes. Suddenly, he feels tired. He wishes it would stop. He wishes he could live.

"Find him, Marrar." He stands up, walking towards the door. "And when you do so, kill him."

He returns to his chamber. Adara lies in the bed curled up. He takes off his robe and joins her.

"Adara?" he quietly calls her, not knowing if she's fallen asleep or not.

She doesn't respond. He lies down behind her and puts his arm around her waist. But when she shifts to adjust, he knows she's awake.

"You took a while," she mumbles.

He only hums.

"I hope everything is good?"

He hums again, nuzzling her hair. "Do you feel better?"

"I will now when you're back." She locks their fingers over her waist. "If I fall asleep, will you please not go?"

Aswad pulls her closer against his chest and kisses her behind her ear. "I won't," he whispers, repeating, "I won't."

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This is the town where ships sink...