Malikati

chapter 4

Chapter 4

His return, her hurt

Hamama Umar Farouk

Has love ever hurt anyone else like this? Or is she the first woman love would make a ridicule of, for her heart was now beating faster, for the very man that tore it apart in the first place. “Ibrahim…” she called again. Maybe it’s just a dream, a conjuring of her mind. She could feel his presence behind her, his tall form towering over her short portable form. She could feel his breath on the crook of her neck; she could feel his eyes staring intently at the side of her face. But some dreams do appear real, don’t they? “Qamari…” he answered.

She released the breath she had been holding, cruel joke she was. “You knew?” “Always” she nodded, tears once again at the corner of her eyes, ready to spill. “And you let me play myself like a fool, I must have been so entertaining to you Ibrahim, wasn’t I?” he spun her around, this time she could see his brown eyes staring intently into hers, she wondered how she could have missed his figure standing there all along, was she blind? Was Hamza blind as well? Or did he hide himself so well. “I could never have let you out of my sight, you should have known that” she nodded once gain pretending to understand what he was saying. “Was I always meant to be a prisoner in your golden cage?” she asked, the man Infront her was as she had always remembered him to be, tall, handsome and cruel. “My son…he is four years old, tell me Sultan, what am I meant to tell him now that you have decided to show up, should I tell him that his mother was the sultan’s other woman? The one he seeks relieve in at night and crawls to his wife in the morning?” “I have aways been with him these years, right from when he was born Qamari…you just never realized”. His eyes blazed with fury.

She stepped back from him, from his hands clutching her shoulders, just as she had done with Hamza. “Please leave Ibrahim…I had paid the price, I had released you from the burden of my love. Leave me and my son”. She was asking him not to claim Saleem. “Saleem is my son as well” he answered and she scoffed “your illegitimate son, careful what you say, The Malika would not like it”. Her eyes blazed with the same fury, matching her gaze with him. She would not be intimidated, not when she had paid the price for loving him years ago.

“How hot-headed can you be that you fail to realize the truth!” he asked and she scoffed “with you, I do not even know what is true and what is not, all I ask you, my Sultan, is that you forget about the existence of my Son, in return I promise you, that he will never lay claim or fight for the seat with your other sons, I will make sure of that”. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, he always did that whenever he was stressed. Old habits do die hard. “I can’t!” “Why?!”

“Because he is the son I share with the woman I would burn down the empire for! At your request Malikati, I will do anything, but not forget about my son, spare me that heartache”. She was dumbfounded “what are you…” her voice failed her, because the cruel man had struck the crook of her neck.

Everything went dark and her body limp, falling into his waiting arms.

Sultan Ibrahim

Hamama’s tent

He caught her falling body, just as he had always wanted to, just as her father wanted him to. “The horses are ready my Khalifa” he nodded, still staring at her sleeping form. Just this last time, he would have to hurt her just this last time and never again. “My wife and son ride’s bubba with me” he said completely ignoring his chief warrior.

The hell he had gone through for this woman, only Allah understands. His father had sent him all the way to the east to learn under her baba, his teacher. He was attacked and rescued by the teacher. He began to love his teacher’s daughter instead. he began to memorized the color of her skin and the way it shimmered when she came under the instructions of her baba to tend to his wounds. He began to notice the way she scoffed when he shares a silly joke, or the way her eyes lit up when he tells her made up stories of the capital.

Soon he began to promise things beyond his reach, he promised heaven, promised hell and even promised a seat that was not his to give. The seat of the Malika.

She began to fall and he watched her, he loved it even. The way his heart raced when their hands brushed accidentally against each other when cleaning Bubba, the way her cheeks puffed when she blushed, the way her eyes rolled when he whispered sweet nothings, the way he pretends to be the hero when she gets scared of the littlest things.

Then she demanded marriage and he could not grant it, not then, not at that point when his elder brother had gone rogue and challenged his brothers for the seat of the Khalifa whilst their father was still alive but frail. He loved her yes, but he could not marry her. Her father had no backings to make him accepted as the Khalifa; their love was destined to fail.

Marrying her meant he had no chance and having no chance meant death… “and the other man?” his chief warrior asked. She seemed to really care about that son of the Shiek, seemed to love him even, what should he do? He never has loved competitions but this one… this one really dared to hold onto what belonged to him, if he hadn’t broken the pot, the darned man would have…he chuckled “what should I do Abdul…he really loves her” Abdul began to say a little prayer for the young man, hoping that in his next life, he would stay far away from the Sultan’s beloved. “Ants tend to go where the honey is don’t they? I want to watch his guts, leave him be for now, but leave him a trail to follow to her. He wants to become a warrior, if he can challenge his Khalifa for the hand of the woman he loves, I might have seen my son’s teacher Abdul.” “The Malika…” Abdul could not finish his sentence but they both knew what he meant. “Careful not to lose your tongue” he warned

“Qamari…” he murmured, still lost gazing at his woman, although she slept, she was still as beautiful as she was when he was still the Ameer in her father’s house. “I hope you like this version of me” “prepare the horse, we ride until dawn!” he commanded, taking her up as though she weighed nothing, he placed her gently on the make shift sedan atop the horse and placed the still sleeping Saleem beside her.

He was done being a coward for a throne that has always rejected him.

They left, the hoofs of their horses unsettling the dessert sands and they rode away…with his woman.

Hamama’s pov

Her head was hurting, why did it hurt so much. “would you like water Qamari?” a deep voice said and she nodded without thinking, soon a bowl of water was brought to her and the kind person helped her sit up and drink it. “Ummi drinks water faster than Bubba” a child’s voice interrupted and she stopped gulping down the third bowl of water brought. Was she in some sort of competition? “don’t feel shy now ummi, everyone already heard you snore loudly, even baba heard it too” baba?

Reality then hit her like a stone brick, her son Saleem was standing so close with her traitor and calling him Baba. “Your umm was tired, you should go play with Bubba” her traitor said and the boy’s face brightened “can I lead him out?” “Abdul has to keep a close eye on you both, we are not at the capital yet” the foolish child continued “Ummi talked so much about the capital baba” the man looked at her, holding her gaze with his “really? What did she tell you?” “About the big houses baba, she said the streets were gold and marbles and that the people dressed in silk.” For a little bit of kindness, her son rattled her out.

He laughed; she could not believe it. His rich laughter rang through their tent, filling it. and Saleem, not even knowing what his father was laughing about, joined in with his boyish chuckle. This man whose smile was never sent her way actually laughed? The heavens must have been turned the wrong way. “it’s really true, the streets are gold and marbles” he answered “we will be rich Ummi, I will take all the Gold and give it to Jafar’s mother” she scowled, why Jafar’s mom? What about her, the one that raised him, does she not deserve the gold and marbles, she wanted to ask, but her traitor already asked before she could. “So, she could bake more soft bread for me” he answered and her scowl deepened. Before she could retort, he had already scampered away to look for Bubba.

“Loosen your face Qamari…” that man said, caressing her cheek in a bid to pacify her. “Where are we?” she asked. “Close to the Capital” he answered, standing up to place the bowl away. “Why are you taking me back there?” “It’s where you belong Qamari” he answered and she winced. “Stop calling me that” this time he looked at her “I used to call you that” “that was a long time ago, when you were the Ameer” “I am still the same am I not?” “No you aren’t!” she closed her eyes to reign her anger in.

“You are now the sultan and I no longer am the foolish woman that once swooned at your gaze, I am no longer that moon…” he smirked. The devil smirked and Hamama wondered why, until he came closer to her. So close that even in the dim room lit by candles, she could see his features clearly and even smell his distinct scent of hazelnut and pines. She could see the scar that ran from the left side of his eyes to the bridge of his nose, she could see his brown piercing eyes, she noticed that he had let down his hair and it was wet with water dripping slowly from it, she could see the outline of his lips and it was no longer smirking. He was now watching her every reaction and she was giving a lot. Her eyes travelled slowly from his lips to his eyes, meeting those brown orbs in a gaze for dominance and she as always was bound to lose, he came closer and she submitted.

“Qamari…” he whispered almost growling with need.