blade.”
His fingers bunched in the delicate sleeves of her tunic. “I am no coward.” He ground out every word and pushed her away from him.
She stumbled before righting herself. By the time she straightened, he had hidden his features beneath the folds of his turban again. Her belly soured at the thought of their angry parting and with regret that he would never know of the child she carried. She ignored an impetuous urge to tell him. She would spare him the pain he had not hesitated to inflict upon her.
“It is not too late for you, husband. You can change the course of the events to follow.”
When he chuckled, her stomach knotted. “You make sport of my fears in what may be our last moments together. You do not know me either, Faraj, even after all these years.”
“I laughed because I told someone else at Tarif that he could also change the future. We are more alike than you think, Fatima.”
“In this moment, we are not. I would value my love for you more than my principles. I have done so before.”
His gaze narrowed, hinting that he understood the reference, but she pressed on. “You lied to my father once. You defied his will and killed an Ashqilula governor under the Sultan’s protection. You let me plead for your life before my father, knowing your guilt. He forgave you, as I did.”
He avoided her harsh stare. “I shall always be grateful for his mercy and yours. I have repaid the favor to you at Tarif. I spoke to one of the Marinid commanders, who led a third of their forces and convinced him to abandon the siege, too. Your mother’s brother, Abdallah of Ashqilula.”
Fatima clutched the prayer beads beneath her neckline. “He was at Tarif? How does he fare? Did he ask about me?”
“He did and more. I discovered he knew the circumstances of your mother’s death, had known since his defection to Jumhuriyat Misr fifteen years ago. He understood then and now, as I do, the utter cruelty of those whom he once supported.” Faraj chuckled again. “In that moment as I spoke with him, I thought only of you, beloved. I was not so selfish then.”
She stepped toward him, her hands outstretched, tears stinging her eyes. He shook his head, opened the door and bypassed Niranjan.
Fatima stifled a sob behind her hands and whirled away.
Behind her, Niranjan asked, “Shall I follow him?”
She swallowed past the lump in her throat and looked to him. “He would expect it. Who remains trustworthy among my father’s servants in Gharnatah? Someone who would know of the dealings at court?”
“Ulayyah’s son, Faisal. He exchanges letters at least once a month with his sisters Basma and Haniya. He can be trusted.”
Niranjan ducked his head. Still, she noted the heightened color of his cheeks.
“You are fond of this boy?”
“He is a man now. Yes, I am fond of him.”
Fatima swallowed and blinked rapidly. Her mind raced with questions she did not voice, for now was not the time. She nodded to Niranjan.
“Then warn him of Faraj’s intent. Tomorrow, we shall follow. I won’t let my husband sacrifice himself.”
“And if we are too late to stop him?”
“We cannot be! Do as I command.”
“It shall be done.” Niranjan bowed at the waist.
Chapter 4
Treachery and Blood
Princess Fatima
Malaka, Al-Andalus: Dhu al-Qa`da 693 AH (Malaga, Andalusia: October AD 1294)
The next morning in the courtyard outside the governor’s castle, Fatima gathered her children together. Niranjan and her trusted maidservants, the twins Basma and Haniya hovered behind her.
Fatima’s eldest daughter Leila presented herself first. At thirteen years old, she was the quiet beauty among her sisters with the dark red hair of her namesake, Faraj’s mother. She hugged her mother and buried her narrow face in the folds of Fatima’s tunic.
“I shall miss you, Ummi , now that both you and Father are gone. When is he going to come home?”
Fatima kissed the crown of Leila’s head.
His fingers bunched in the delicate sleeves of her tunic. “I am no coward.” He ground out every word and pushed her away from him.
She stumbled before righting herself. By the time she straightened, he had hidden his features beneath the folds of his turban again. Her belly soured at the thought of their angry parting and with regret that he would never know of the child she carried. She ignored an impetuous urge to tell him. She would spare him the pain he had not hesitated to inflict upon her.
“It is not too late for you, husband. You can change the course of the events to follow.”
When he chuckled, her stomach knotted. “You make sport of my fears in what may be our last moments together. You do not know me either, Faraj, even after all these years.”
“I laughed because I told someone else at Tarif that he could also change the future. We are more alike than you think, Fatima.”
“In this moment, we are not. I would value my love for you more than my principles. I have done so before.”
His gaze narrowed, hinting that he understood the reference, but she pressed on. “You lied to my father once. You defied his will and killed an Ashqilula governor under the Sultan’s protection. You let me plead for your life before my father, knowing your guilt. He forgave you, as I did.”
He avoided her harsh stare. “I shall always be grateful for his mercy and yours. I have repaid the favor to you at Tarif. I spoke to one of the Marinid commanders, who led a third of their forces and convinced him to abandon the siege, too. Your mother’s brother, Abdallah of Ashqilula.”
Fatima clutched the prayer beads beneath her neckline. “He was at Tarif? How does he fare? Did he ask about me?”
“He did and more. I discovered he knew the circumstances of your mother’s death, had known since his defection to Jumhuriyat Misr fifteen years ago. He understood then and now, as I do, the utter cruelty of those whom he once supported.” Faraj chuckled again. “In that moment as I spoke with him, I thought only of you, beloved. I was not so selfish then.”
She stepped toward him, her hands outstretched, tears stinging her eyes. He shook his head, opened the door and bypassed Niranjan.
Fatima stifled a sob behind her hands and whirled away.
Behind her, Niranjan asked, “Shall I follow him?”
She swallowed past the lump in her throat and looked to him. “He would expect it. Who remains trustworthy among my father’s servants in Gharnatah? Someone who would know of the dealings at court?”
“Ulayyah’s son, Faisal. He exchanges letters at least once a month with his sisters Basma and Haniya. He can be trusted.”
Niranjan ducked his head. Still, she noted the heightened color of his cheeks.
“You are fond of this boy?”
“He is a man now. Yes, I am fond of him.”
Fatima swallowed and blinked rapidly. Her mind raced with questions she did not voice, for now was not the time. She nodded to Niranjan.
“Then warn him of Faraj’s intent. Tomorrow, we shall follow. I won’t let my husband sacrifice himself.”
“And if we are too late to stop him?”
“We cannot be! Do as I command.”
“It shall be done.” Niranjan bowed at the waist.
Chapter 4
Treachery and Blood
Princess Fatima
Malaka, Al-Andalus: Dhu al-Qa`da 693 AH (Malaga, Andalusia: October AD 1294)
The next morning in the courtyard outside the governor’s castle, Fatima gathered her children together. Niranjan and her trusted maidservants, the twins Basma and Haniya hovered behind her.
Fatima’s eldest daughter Leila presented herself first. At thirteen years old, she was the quiet beauty among her sisters with the dark red hair of her namesake, Faraj’s mother. She hugged her mother and buried her narrow face in the folds of Fatima’s tunic.
“I shall miss you, Ummi , now that both you and Father are gone. When is he going to come home?”
Fatima kissed the crown of Leila’s head.
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