Seeing Hala as she stood at the outskirts of the sparring area, looking at me with such a desperate desire to uncover my true identity, was something that set both my body and heart ablaze. She stood tall—regally—as if she’d just befallen a thousand men on a battlefield. If she were in any condition to handle it, I’d have scooped her into my arms and taken her to her bedroom once Asad had demanded it and devoured her. I’d have let the pent up emotions within me flow freely, without restraint. How I longed for that day to come—for her to be both mentally and physically able to handle it. It had been an unspoken attraction, lingering stares and passing comments. I’d hinted at it, and she returned it with such chilling heat.
As I caught sight of Jamila on the way back to her quarters, I knew it was time to make a statement. I may have played into her flirting, but the woman I so desperately desired was in my arms—before her very eyes. It may have been a foolish, reckless thing to do, but when Hala uttered my birth-given name; I had to tease her for it, physically and mentally. I pulled her close enough to kiss, just enough to leave her on edge as I dared test her. To leave her imagining how it could feel, having me so close. I also wanted Jamila to see how, no matter how hard she tried, I’d never offer her such proximity. I’d never look into her eyes the way I did Hala’s. It wasn’t until we strode a good few feet away that I was sure she was no longer watching. I knew then, that I was able to quicken my steps to get Hala back to bed, back to comfort. She didn’t want people knowing she was in such poor condition. I could tell she was in more pain than most anyone could bear. Moving her to the side, cradling her in one arm, was a foolish decision made known by the whimper she’d let escape her lips as I opened the door to the Grand Building. I felt horrible when she looked at me with such a pained expression.
During our conversation, I finally let her know the reason for hating my name—the self-deprecation that had filled my heart for so many years. And she thwarted each negative thought with one of reassurance. I was more than doubtful of her, I didn’t want to believe she still saw me as an innocent bystander. I allowed Hala to be subjected to social alienation, allowed her to marry Shahin without so much as a fighting chance to try and stop it—I had allowed myself to believe she was happy out there, until Iirshad and I’s conversations before his death.
There were so many things I could have said. So many ways I could have agreed with her—to let her know she was right, but I didn’t. I had to sit alone in my room for a while that day, to come to a conclusion on how to broach the topic again. There had to be a way to show her that I wanted to protect her mind, body, and soul from any more pain.
Before I knew it, I was there. My heart was in my eardrums as I knocked on her door, only to find no answer. I turned the lever down, entering on the padding of my feet. She laid in her bed, sleeping. The exhaustion from overexerting herself was surely deserving of deep rest. I approached her, taking in her features as she slept. It was in those calm first hours of sleep that she remained neutral in expression, if not soft. Her lashes so long, lips barely parted. Worry filled me; would she have a nightmare? Would she be haunted this time, just as she had all the others? I sat on the edge of the mattress, placing a hand on her shoulder as I spoke to her in Mahsulah.
“Ne kazeh wa ana Themaz, ne ana Themaz mintinakh…” I murmured.
You are my dearest friend, my dearest beloved.
“I know you’re sleeping, Themaz, but I love you.” The words fell from my lips in my native tongue with such heart-shattering resonance. Words I’d held onto since I was 17, discovering her betrothal to Shahin. “I’ve loved you for so long that it hurts…”
I rubbed my thumb along her shoulder, and her eyes fluttered for a moment. I smiled softly as they opened fully.
“Abyad…?” She murmured. Sunset had come, and I could see her eyes as they filled with unease.
“It’s okay, Themaz.” I reassured her. “I came to check on you.”
“I’m sorry…” she said. I tweaked an eyebrow.
“For what?” I asked.
“Not asking about you…” her voice was still half-asleep. Raspy and alluring in its rawest form.
I managed a weak smile in response. “It’s okay.” I replied.
“When you saved me…” she began, bringing her hand to her eyes to rub the sleep from them. “And I saw your eyes…even for just a second…I knew it was you.”
My heart swelled. She was always her calmest after waking up in our childhood. There were nights she’d allow me to sleep in her room after I’d had nightmares of my own; memories of living on the streets, and the unspeakable things I’d witnessed would find me in my own slumber. I’d wake up screaming, not too different from how her rest was interrupted now. She always seemed the most level-headed in those early hours after waking, before her temper awoke.
“I almost didn’t recognize you, that evening…” I replied. Her eyes filled with hurt, not at what I’d said—but by what had been done to her.
“I promise, Hala. You’re still you. You’re still the girl who protected me, who fought for me when no one else would.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be that again, Idris.” She said, her voice pained. Her eyes widened as she realized that she’d used my old name.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“I’m sorry, Abyad.” She corrected herself. Without thinking, my hand met her cheek.
“It’s okay, when it comes from you.” I said, knowing I’d contradicted myself from the words I’d said earlier. “Just don’t call me that in public, okay?” I asked. I couldn’t help my smile growing wider, there was familiarity in this sentiment.
She nodded, as her hand met mine on her cheek.
“I thought about you every day I was in Otlak, Abyad. Had I known you’d look like this…” she trailed off as she looked at me with an attentive eye. She was slowly waking up, her voice becoming more clear as emotion pulled through them.
I wanted to tease her, but she was being so honest that I wanted to hear more. I wanted her to preen my ego, feed me the words of affirmation I’d been hoping to find in other women, that I knew I’d only accept from her mouth.
“I think I would have endured 10 more years of such acts at his hands to see your eyes again.” She admitted. “To see your real smile…”
My breath hitched in my throat. She was waking up fully now, her eyes were wide and coherent. “But I’ll always see you as the tiny boy who I beat in dhrenz.” She smiled.
I returned her smile with one of my own, noting the teasing tone she used. I drew close to her, just as I had when I held her in the courtyard.
“Once you’re in better shape, we’ll see who wins that game now.” I drawled.
Her cheeks flushed. She was visibly able to remember the game, more akin to wrestling than anything else. Hala always wanted to play games that the young sons of the Sixth Battalion’s played, and I was the one who had to endure such beatings. I had a few rules to change to the game, if we ever decided to lock hands like that again.
“You’re a brute.” She insulted.
“I’m a man, Hala.” I retorted as a chuckle left my lips.
“A man with a forked tongue.”
“I’m serious.” I said, looking her in the eyes, my smile falling a bit. We were so close that it hurt. “I’m not a boy anymore, Hala, and you’d best stop looking at me as if you’re ready for anything more than a hug.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She nearly snapped as her head turned away from me. I drew back from her, loosing a breath of laughter.
“If you say so.” I replied cryptically.
“I don’t!” She exclaimed quietly. “I’m not even worth a second glance, right now.”
“I beg to differ.” I replied coolly, moving my hand from her cheek to her bicep and offering a gentle squeeze. As I stood from the bed, her head turned back to me; her hand caught mine.
“I—Abyad…” she stammered. “Would you sit with me?” She asked.
“Just for a while?”
I couldn’t say ‘no.’ I laughed a breath and nodded, sitting down at the armchair and making myself comfortable. She laid in her bed as the sun began to set. This had to be the time that Shahin would begin his antics, I could tell by how Hala would glance at the door with such a paranoid expression. As if the Duke would burst through the doors at any moment, and snatch her up. The day we first got her back, I wondered if the reason for her awakening in my arms was from Bròn’s glamour wearing off. It seemed that sunset was a time ingrained into her internal alarm clock—forcing her to wake up, to be on high alert.
“He’s not coming.” I finally said, breaking the silence.
“I know.” She peeped. “But I still watch.”
“You want me in here to protect you, then?” I asked, covering my smile with my hand as I leaned into the arm of the chair.
“Whatever, Idris.” She grumbled, turning onto her side with discomfort lining her face. She watched me, now, and not the door.
We remained in silence, watching each other with a painfully short distance separating us. I knew she felt it: how badly I wished I could lay in that bed beside her, holding her close to remind her how safe she was. How badly I wanted her. I didn’t want to be gentle, anymore. Hala was walking again, but still hardly ate. She was still so thin that her sternum was visible, though not as severe as she once looked. Her naturally prominent collar bones jutted out, and her cheeks were still slightly hollow. I scratched my chin, trying to stifle the pitiful look I must’ve been giving her and breaking the eye contact.
“I wish everyone would stop looking at me like I’m going to snap in two.” She muttered, her eyes still searing into me. I met those amber-flecked eyes once more, with chagrin.
“It’s kind of hard not to, Hala.” I replied.
“I’ll be fine in another month. Watch me.” She promised.
I smiled, and her face softened when we met gazes. I didn’t know what it was about certain times that I smiled, but she would turn to putty in my hands. Usually, I had to play it up for women to act in a similar fashion—but with her, I was able to smile without thinking about it; she’d nearly purr like a kitten. I enjoyed seeing her less abrasive side. It reminded me of how she looked at the children guiding me through the courtyard, which lead me to speak.
“You know,” I began changing the topic. “Those kids from a few weeks ago turned out to be pretty bad at Chon.”
Her eyes filled with some kind of emotion I couldn’t pin, betraying the neutral tone of her voice. “Oh yeah?”
I nodded, offering a half-smile. “Half of them dropped out of the club they wanted me to lead, the other half are throwing temper tantrums when they lose.”
She loosed a breath of laughter, eyes falling to the ground as she brought her arm up as a pillow. “I’m sure they’ll get the hang of it.” She murmured.
“I hope so…” I replied.
“Idris…” she began, her eyes meeting mine again. She was fighting back tears, and the confusion that flooded me was immeasurable.
“What is it?” I asked breathily.
She paused, watching me with such focus I’d only seen on her when she was under my scrutinization. The day I’d asked her about loving Shahin in our teen years. My heart lurched in my chest as the sunset’s light bathed half of her face.
“Never mind…” Hala said, readjusting herself so that her blanket covered her mouth.