I hurt so badly as that horse carried me through the forest. It was unbearable—unspeakable. My back roared and rippled in pain as my captor hoisted me up, and it took everything in me to listen to the directions he’d given before mounting it. The galloping was worse, though, as each clop of the horse’s hooves sent waves of pure agony through my body. I felt the blood seeping out of my back before my captor knew it was there, and I bit my lip until I tasted it. Once the horse came to a slowed pace, and stopped, I was ready to scream the loudest scream I’d ever let out, everything hurt so badly. His arms were gentle around me, taking great care not to jostle my body more than he already had when he dismounted the horse. Once he knelt to the ground in the burnt tree trunk, and whispered to me that it was okay to scream—I let loose.


    My shoulders trembled, and I felt each one of Shahin’s marks tear with the movements—I felt his ‘love’ for me with every shaking breath.


    “I know…I know…” the captor’s voice soothed me. “You’re safe, now.” I could hear his voice break, and I knew he didn’t understand. He couldn’t comprehend the sheer discomfort I was in, or how terrified I was of him. Even with his voice breaking, he was massive compared to me. I felt like I was inside of two tree trunks, not one.


    “Make it STOP!” I cried, my voice grating as I begged him to do something, anything to help me. For the first time, I could beg someone to put me out of the misery I was in.


    His hand raked through my hair hesitantly, unsure of how to help more than he already was. “Alfahd is coming back soon, Princess…” he said as I cried once more.


    Alfahd…A Mahsulian name? Someone from Mahsul had nabbed me up?


    I gripped into my captor’s sleeve as the pain burned my back, breathing in jagged breaths as it got worse and worse. My fingernails had to be digging into the forearms holding me still, and I was surprised he hadn’t struck me to shut me up yet.


    “Breathe.” He said, his voice becoming more authoritative as an accent pulled through. I had to remind myself how to take a full breath, detecting that my assumption was correct in that one word alone—the man who was with me was Mahsulian. My captors were saviors. He was right: I was safe.


    “Jun ka fakhlah?” The man asked, the same gentleness that comes with Jidhaq fasting. Mahsulah.


    Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I forgot Mahsulah.


    “Fakhlah…torazeh!” The only phrase I knew. I wanted to kick my legs and kill the bastard who’d done this to me. I wanted to wring Shahin’s neck until the life left his eyes.


    “I…make it STOP!” I cried again, slipping back into Otlank. Another wave of pain as my breathing sputtered.


    “It will stop soon. Breathe, Hala.” He snapped back in Otlank. I almost hit him, but it hurt too much to move. I dug my fingernails deeper into his forearm, probably feeling no stronger than a rat in that moment. Another horse could be heard in the distance, neighing loudly as it clopped. Thank God.


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    Another voice, Mahsulah being spoken, urgently and loudly—and I hardly understood a lick of it. I was furious, in pain, and mortified as the man I clung onto caught two separate items. He peeled my hand from his arm, and I begged him not to move me as I heard his heartbeat quicken whilst I laid against his chest. My head went up, and I swear I saw Idris’ eyes looking into mine.


    “Make it stop…” I whined, swallowing harshly as my throat grew thick from saliva after screaming so loudly. I had to look pitiful, horribly sick, because the look he gave me was nothing short of an embarrassment to be on the receiving end of.


    “I will…but you have to stay still.” He said, almost snarking at me as he turned me around. His gentle hands turned me around, and I felt the back of my robe being pulled at. I clung to it on instinct, as my shoulders shook again in pain.


    “Don’t hurt me…” I cried, my lips curling down into a horrible frown. I could hardly move my head, it felt so heavy atop my shoulders.


    “Heavens, Hala…” he sighed, peeling the robe back. I was at a new man’s mercy at that point, and dreading every second of it. Not only was he here, but he brought friends. He could be getting ready to…I had to swallow again—not here, not right now. He said I was safe. I saw Idris’ eyes. Not yet…I had to see them again. The cold air bit against the wounds on my back, my hot flashes intensifying as the man caught a third item—something glass? I felt a cool splash run over my back, and heard it trickle down to the ground. He cursed under his breath in Mahsulah—great. At least I knew the vocabulary that mattered.


    I writhed in pain as I felt fingers sliding along my back, with more curse words and other words coming from the man’s lips. “I can’t understand you…!” I said with more distress than I’d hoped.


    “Don’t worry about what I say.” He chastised gently, switching back to Otlank for a split second. I understood this was a high-stress situation. I was under the most stress in that moment: a random man I’d never met, seeing the wounds on my back that I hated with a passion—starved in more ways than one, and forced to endure touch on open wounds that probably went down near bone. Not to mention; I’d probably been left infertile by one of these cuts. I wished I was back in the palace, feeling Shahin as he…God. Stupid girl.


    I had to clench my jaw so hard I heard my teeth grind as the brute bandaged me. He had stripped me bear at that point, grown frustrated by the sleeves remaining on my arms and fully removed them. I’d be lying if I said he was anything but gentlemanly about the way he tore the cloth from my arms, though, apologizing the whole way through.


    I was lucky his friends weren’t gawking at me—not that there was anything to look at, anyways. I think I stayed still, I wasn’t sure, but the man wasn’t cursing under his breath anymore. He grazed my chest multiple times, and I almost crawled out of my skin. It was miserable, being so bare in front of a stranger. I wanted to go home, whichever home didn’t matter—but this was a torture of its own.


    He let out a shaky breath as he slung the bloodied robe over my back, taking a moment to compose himself after the grizzly scene he’d just been exposed to. I struggled to get my arms through the sleeves again, tying the sash with the last of my remaining strength before I felt his arms pull me back. They weren’t harsh, nor did they travel my body. They stayed where they’d initially grabbed me, at my waist, as he kept the robe taught with his fingers.


    “Everyone thought you were dead.” He chided, his voice filled with anger.


    “No one sent a letter.” I spat back, unable to imagine Father’s face as I chastised the man who just rescued me.


    “Your bastard husband just didn’t give them to you.” He said ‘bastard’ with particular disdain. I liked it.


    “Thank you…” I murmured, feeling myself grow dizzier. This was the most movement I’d had in years, and my body’s resilience was astounding; even to me. The sound of the quiet night was intoxicating, though it may have just been the blood loss making me so woozy.


    “For bandaging you up?” He asked, his voice laced with confusion. I hummed in agreement, as my legs poked through my robe. The cold air felt sobering on them, as I clung onto consciousness for dear life. With no meat on them, I almost laughed at how dismal I must’ve looked.


    “God…this is bad.” He muttered. “Men! We leave at dawn.” The feeling of his voice as it vibrated through his chest sent my head into a hum, and I heard the men respond to the man holding me.


    “Yes, Abyad!”


    I almost said something, wanting to test his name on my lips, but my breathing was shallow and labored. I felt his right hand move, pressing down on the middle of my chest to make me breathe in short bursts.


    This was really bad.