Author's Preface
Morning broke clean and gold over Banu Tayf's camp, and Muhtadi walked Yahya to the edge of the settlement himself, favoring his strained leg only slightly now.
"Our clan is your friend now, Yahya." Something genuine sat beneath the formality of it. "You saved my life. That's not a debt I'll let gather dust."
"Alhamdulillah, you're well." Yahya clasped his arm. "Thank you for your hospitality, Muhtadi. May Allah bless you and keep you."
Muhtadi pulled him into a brief embrace, Yahya returning it with a firm clap to the shoulder. "I entrust you to Allah. My tent stands open to you always — our doors are always open to the lineage of the Prophet, peace be upon him."
"And mine to you." Yahya swung up onto his varak, settling the reins. "Should you ever need Banu Rayyan, you'll find us ready."
He signaled his men, and the detachment set off across the dunes. Muhtadi watched them go with a faint, private smile. The herb in the varak's feed had been mild and harmless—just enough to stage a convincing threat without real danger, a performance crafted to let Muhtadi frame his cruel, grasping uncle. Yahya's rescue had sealed their pre-arranged plot brilliantly, securing an alliance and neutralizing an enemy in a single, well-timed stroke.
Yahya rode on, turning the details of their clever arrangement over in his mind. Whatever Muhtadi's cold calculation, the uncle's tyranny had long earned his downfall, and the young Seyyid had proven far sharper than the old rumors suggested. A ruler worth watching, Yahya decided. Perhaps even trusting, in time.
His thoughts drifted from there to Faris, and the worry he'd kept carefully folded away during the diplomacy of these past days surfaced now with full force. Since his sister-in-law had not been found among the Banu Tayf, Banu Azab was now the most likely place she was being held. Neither Muraj nor his son would have welcomed Faris through any open gate — which meant his brother had taken a desperate risk, going in secret into enemy territory with every chance of being discovered.
Ya Allah, he prayed silently, urging his varak faster. Protect my brother. Let him have found her.
Faris's party had ridden through the entire night and the following day with almost no rest, snatching only brief moments to water the varaks and swallow dry rations on the move. The beasts beneath them were lathered and heaving, their riders slumped forward with exhaustion that had long since passed the point of simple tiredness. Home lay too many days distant to reach before Jahim's furious riders caught them in open ground.
Memory surfaced through the haze of his own fatigue — his mother's people, Banu Fakhr, close enough now to reach before dawn fully broke. "Change course!" Faris shouted over the wind. "Banu Fakhr — now!"
They rode the last stretch with everything the exhausted mounts had left to give, and as the settlement's outline finally broke the horizon, Faris called out, voice cracking with strain. "Raise the banners!"
The warriors unfurled their snow-white flag, gold star catching the first grey light of morning, and a lookout's cry rang out from the watchtower ahead. "Banu Rayyan approaches! Riding hard — it looks like pursuit! Clear the gates!"
The heavy gates swung wide just as they thundered through, claws striking sparks off packed stone, the whole party collapsing into the relative safety of the settlement's heart.
Seyyid Ahmet came rushing out before Faris had even fully dismounted, his resemblance to Amina striking even in the dim light — the same warm brown skin, the same rich chestnut hair.
"Assalamu alaikum, nephew! What's happened? Why ride like the desert itself was chasing you?"
"Wa alaikum assalam, uncle." Faris slid from his varak, legs nearly buckling beneath him, and bowed low despite his exhaustion. "We're pursued. For the sake of Allah, I ask your protection."
Ahmet gripped his shoulders, warmth and urgency both plain on his face. "You're my sister's son. You need fear nothing here — I'll see you protected. Go to the guest tent, wash the road off yourselves. We'll speak properly after."
Faris nodded gratefully and turned to help Latifa down from the palanquin on Barq's back, careful of her weight, careful of everything about her after everything she'd already survived.
Behind them, Ahmet was already turning to his own men, voice sharpening into command. "Prepare for battle! The enemy rides close behind them!" Swords came free of their sheaths, bowstrings drawn taut along the settlement's ramparts. Ahmet pressed a hand briefly to his own chest, murmuring under his breath. "Ya Allah, preserve us. In You alone we place our trust, and to You alone we turn. All power and strength belong to the Almighty."
Inside the guest tent, the desert's grit finally washed away, Latifa let out a long, trembling breath.
"Alhamdulillah." Her voice shook with the weight of it. "We're safe. I thought we'd die out there in the dunes. Allah saved us."
"Alhamdulillah, yes." Faris sat beside her, and something he'd been holding back through the entire brutal night finally broke loose. He pulled her into his arms, fierce and desperate, and she clung back just as hard, both of them shaking.
He drew back only far enough to cup her face, kissing her deeply, breathing in the scent of her like a man finally allowed to breathe after holding his breath for months. She's back. She's truly back. Latifa breathed him in return, the familiar warmth of him dissolving something that had sat frozen in her chest since the terrifying night she was taken, and the tears came before she could stop them.
Faris pulled back instantly, alarmed, kissing the wet trails from her cheeks. "My soul. What's wrong?"
"Thank you," she managed, voice breaking. "For saving me. For not giving up."
"How could I ever give up on you?" His voice came rough, raw with everything he hadn't said in months. "You're my life, Latifa. My air. I cannot breathe without you."
"You're my life too." She managed a watery smile through the tears. "I love you."
"I love you too."
He reached to draw her closer onto his lap, and his gaze dropped, catching finally on the prominent, heavy curve of her stomach. He froze completely. "Latifa — you're pregnant?"
A soft, surprised laugh escaped her despite everything. "You're only noticing now?"
"I was entirely focused on getting you out alive," he said, laughing at his own blindness even as wonder spread slowly across his face. He reached out, resting a careful hand against her belly. "Was it difficult for you? Did the little one give you trouble, through all of this?"
"Like with any baby, I suppose," she smiled warmly. "He is strong, taking after his father."
A firm, unmistakable kick pressed against his palm.
Faris's eyes went wide, something close to awe breaking across his whole face.
Latifa laughed softly through her remaining tears. "He heard his father's voice. That's him saying hello."
Faris leaned down close to her stomach, voice gone soft and wondering. "Little one. Do you know me already? It's your father."
The tent held nothing but quiet after that — the first true peace either of them had known in months, safe now, finally together, with everything that still waited outside kept carefully, gratefully, at bay for just this one unguarded hour.
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