Tareq wasn’t sure how much longer he could endure his tempestuous thoughts and emotions. He’d spent half his life trying not to feel.
Tareq hardened his demeanor. The gentleness in his eyes and in his voice disappeared. He instructed one of his warriors to take Jem’ya’s parents to Eulid and put them under the supervision of Amir, the old stable owner, after the two were allowed a day in Tikso to bury their son. Then he told Mr. and Mrs. Okobi to remain in Eulid if they wanted to see their daughter sooner rather than later.
Tareq ordered his men to release the villagers that were Jem’ya’s aunts and uncle, as well as the remaining women and a few of the men that were not as physically fit as the others. They fled and seven tough tribesmen remained. Tareq nodded to himself, certain that they would survive the bondage they would experience in Samhia. When Tareq finally took the throne, he would free these men and thousands of others. The King was in his last days, so the men would not have to be enslaved for long.
Tareq returned to Sultan’s saddle and continued leading the squadron away from Tikso .
Jem’ya stopped crying after the first day of riding, though her sorrow continued to twist and claw at her insides. It upset her that no more tears would come. Crying was a release, and it was the only ritual she could perform in memory of her brother since she was not with her family in Tikso to participate in a ceremony for him. What about the rest of her brothers and sisters? Her mother and father? Were they alive? She didn’t know. The fear of learning the truth, and the fear of learning her fate, was preventing her tears.
On the second day she learned a few clues as to what her fate would be. Tareq and Hakan had spoken to each other in Samician, which she didn’t understand. She asked the massive warrior Hakan in Arabic where she was being taken. Hakan was surprised to hear her speak in Arabic. He answered, saying she would be hidden in the royal palace and left in the care of Bahja, one of Prince Tareq’s maidservants.
“He’s the prince ?!”
“The Prince of Samhia.”
Jem’ya felt so foolish and violated. She’d fallen for a prince, of all people? Royals were the most greedy, egotistical, vicious and immoral people in the world. The King of Samhia was especially notorious, and Tareq was his seed. Like father, like son . “What does he want with me?” her voice trembled with anger.
“That I do not know. He has never ordered something like this before. I wonder if he even knows what he will do with you.”
Hakan did not speak much during the five day trip to the capital city. He made sure she ate though she had no appetite and checked that she was warm when they camped at night. He cut the ties loose from her hands and ankles. He bought her a black burqa to conceal her and protect her from the sun. Though Hakan was not unkind, Jem’ya knew not to cross him. Anyways, there were no opportunities to escape. She could not run faster than a horse, nor could she traverse an unfamiliar desert in the thick darkness of night.
When Jem’ya saw the Samhizzan palace, her body began to tremble. She felt light-headed as they went through the extravagant golden gates and into the palace courtyard. Hakan spoke to a small servant boy who ran into the palace and returned with a squat older woman Jem’ya assumed was Bahja. She watched Bahja’s face go from concern and curiosity to shock as Hakan relayed, in Samician, Tareq’s orders. Bahja seemed to argue with Hakan a moment, but resigned to the situation.
Hakan came down from his horse and then carried Jem’ya down by the waist. When her trembling feet touched the ground she found that she did not have the strength to stand. She had slept little the past five days and her grief and frayed nerves had left her entirely weak. She wanted to run away from Hakan and Bahja but her body would not cooperate and the place was surrounded by guards.
Tareq hardened his demeanor. The gentleness in his eyes and in his voice disappeared. He instructed one of his warriors to take Jem’ya’s parents to Eulid and put them under the supervision of Amir, the old stable owner, after the two were allowed a day in Tikso to bury their son. Then he told Mr. and Mrs. Okobi to remain in Eulid if they wanted to see their daughter sooner rather than later.
Tareq ordered his men to release the villagers that were Jem’ya’s aunts and uncle, as well as the remaining women and a few of the men that were not as physically fit as the others. They fled and seven tough tribesmen remained. Tareq nodded to himself, certain that they would survive the bondage they would experience in Samhia. When Tareq finally took the throne, he would free these men and thousands of others. The King was in his last days, so the men would not have to be enslaved for long.
Tareq returned to Sultan’s saddle and continued leading the squadron away from Tikso .
Jem’ya stopped crying after the first day of riding, though her sorrow continued to twist and claw at her insides. It upset her that no more tears would come. Crying was a release, and it was the only ritual she could perform in memory of her brother since she was not with her family in Tikso to participate in a ceremony for him. What about the rest of her brothers and sisters? Her mother and father? Were they alive? She didn’t know. The fear of learning the truth, and the fear of learning her fate, was preventing her tears.
On the second day she learned a few clues as to what her fate would be. Tareq and Hakan had spoken to each other in Samician, which she didn’t understand. She asked the massive warrior Hakan in Arabic where she was being taken. Hakan was surprised to hear her speak in Arabic. He answered, saying she would be hidden in the royal palace and left in the care of Bahja, one of Prince Tareq’s maidservants.
“He’s the prince ?!”
“The Prince of Samhia.”
Jem’ya felt so foolish and violated. She’d fallen for a prince, of all people? Royals were the most greedy, egotistical, vicious and immoral people in the world. The King of Samhia was especially notorious, and Tareq was his seed. Like father, like son . “What does he want with me?” her voice trembled with anger.
“That I do not know. He has never ordered something like this before. I wonder if he even knows what he will do with you.”
Hakan did not speak much during the five day trip to the capital city. He made sure she ate though she had no appetite and checked that she was warm when they camped at night. He cut the ties loose from her hands and ankles. He bought her a black burqa to conceal her and protect her from the sun. Though Hakan was not unkind, Jem’ya knew not to cross him. Anyways, there were no opportunities to escape. She could not run faster than a horse, nor could she traverse an unfamiliar desert in the thick darkness of night.
When Jem’ya saw the Samhizzan palace, her body began to tremble. She felt light-headed as they went through the extravagant golden gates and into the palace courtyard. Hakan spoke to a small servant boy who ran into the palace and returned with a squat older woman Jem’ya assumed was Bahja. She watched Bahja’s face go from concern and curiosity to shock as Hakan relayed, in Samician, Tareq’s orders. Bahja seemed to argue with Hakan a moment, but resigned to the situation.
Hakan came down from his horse and then carried Jem’ya down by the waist. When her trembling feet touched the ground she found that she did not have the strength to stand. She had slept little the past five days and her grief and frayed nerves had left her entirely weak. She wanted to run away from Hakan and Bahja but her body would not cooperate and the place was surrounded by guards.
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