Spirits of the Earth

She held onto the silver chain tight, until the pendant bit into her flesh and her knuckles grew white. She had thought she lost it- because it had been from him. From a love who she lost sometime ago. Somehow she had managed to recover the pendant he had gifted her- the first gift he had ever given..

They had been so young. And so very, very foolish. And she had carelessly given away her heart, shown herself in true form and vulnerability.

But his family announced his engagement to another.  To another. Another woman would have him, go to his bed... share his sweet kisses.

It wasn't fair.  The world was twisted and cruel. And he could never know the other truth behind her disappearance.  Most would presume it was because she was irate.

And they wouldn't be wrong. Her heart had been shattered since the announcement- and she refused to talk or see him ever again.

All he'd have from her was a penned letter with a cold congratulations scripted throughout the ink. Then she was gone.

Most presumed she'd gone to Serendipity.  And most were surprised just how long she was gone from the desert. So upon her recent return, naturally she would become the talk of the city- where she returned and was throwing together an adventuring party into the deserts. Apparently she had done some work during her time abroad- and it seemed nothing- not even a broken, tattered heart could keep her from her true love of exploration of the ruins of the desert.

Of course she avoided him.and his family like the plague upon her return. And an extra slap to the face was immediately upon her return she was invited to their pre-wedding party.

What asshole thought that was a good idea?

So naturally she hadn't gone to it.. heavens no! She wasn't that much of a fool. However, she wanted to make stupid choices that night to help her forget- to continue to take those steps forward in mending her heart.

So she drank.. and far too many wine skins, while riding her beautiful serenian horse along the palmed forests along the Niafi. She felt confident in her abilities to ride- inebriated or not- and paused just outside the manor home where the party had been going on.

Why had she come so close to here? Her horse swished his tail as they stood there- and she?- knocking back the remainder of her third wine skin before she carelessly tossed it aside 

It was then she realized she had been giving her pendant a death grip and released it, sloppily hiding it away in the folds of the front of her robes.

She turned her back towards the manor home before her, her horse itching between the shadows of the palm forests and the open yards that' stretched towards the rowdy party.

The sun had nearly sunk behind the horizon and the stars were glittering across the deep violetting skies. She needed more to drink, and she was certainly not going to the party.

She cursed as she dropped a bottle of wine from her saddle bag and with some reluctance, she dismounted and followed the rolling bottle to where it stopped, resting in a nest of reeds.

The party was not Faraji's idea. In fact, his mother and the whole house went completely against everything he'd ever said by throwing it. It was extravagant, lavish, everything one would expect from the marriage of one of Essryn's highest ranking families - especially the heir to the entire fortune.

People wondered, often, why Faraji wasn't married yet and why, after 5 years, he still pushed off his wedding. Saanvi was a lovely girl from a rising family without a single stain on her character. They were bethrothed when she was just 16 which had been Faraji's excuse for a long time but now?

He didn't have an excuse. It didn't matter he was almost a decade older. It didn't matter he felt nothing for her. She was nice. She was polite. He wished her the best.

He just didn't wish her for him.

"Faraji..." blast it all, his mother, Havalia, had found him hiding in his office buried in ledgers. Avoiding the festivities. His highly decorated garments didn't fit with the plain aesthetic of his work space, and his head coverings were certainly not a normal day-to-day look. He was a future groom.

"Mother." He responded curtly.

"This is a party for you. You disrespect Saanvi by being in here. You disrespect this family."

"There is a lot of work that needs to be finished. I'll return when it's done." He tried to brush her off.

She wasn't having it and plucked the quill from his hand and pointed towards the door, "You have a duty to that girl." she hissed.

Faraji stood quickly and towered over her, "A duty you forced." He shot back before slamming the drawer closed and storming from the room. He had never forgiven her for this engagement...for the letter he'd received from the woman he actually intended to marry congratulating him and then disappearing from his life.

It was over. He knew it was. Saanvi was his future, but he couldn't bring himself to treat her any differently than one of his sisters and...if they wed...

He would be forced to truly betray her.

"Faraji..." a voice whispered from around the corner. His manservant.

"Faraji, she's here. Just outside the gates."

His breath caught and his heart practically stopped. She was here...? Outside? After all of these years they were in the same place at the same time and he was cursed to be at this God forsaken party!

It didn't matter.

He turned down another hallway, down a flight of stairs away from the festivities, and slipped out into the twilight and walked as quickly as he could. Side gate. He couldn't be seen. He had to be discrete.

He had to see her.

And then...

"Ibra..." he practically choked, staring at her back as she turned to walk away from the estate.

She snatched the bottle and yanked off the cork, about ready to down some more wine when the voice hit her-

And she froze.

That voice. 

No...

The wine missed her lips and began to dribble down her face and dress- slapping her (temporarily) out of her drunken stupor. 

"Yes," She went, throwing her shoulders back straight as she brushed off the wine- back still to him. She didn't want to look. She wouldn't  look.

"And I'm leaving. Goodnight, Faraji." She went on, stiffly, and reached for her horses reigns.

"No." He rushed forward, "Stop. Please stop." he begged, reaching up to grab her reins before she could move on. After all this time...after all these years...she was right here in front of him.

And she refused to look at him. He stared up at her profile and was taken aback by how beautiful she was. How beautiful she still was. He could smell the wine, but none of that mattered.

"Ibra, please." He begged again,"Stay. Just for a moment. Please."

She nearly jumped clean out of her skin when his hands touched hers. He was holding her hands.. holding her...
Her eyes welled with tears for a moment before she was able to deduce..

He just didn't want her to get on the horse. He didn't want to hold her hand.

She jerked her hands away, repulsed at the very idea he was touching her again.. except..


It had the opposite effect as she intended, and she ended up stumbling backwards- clean into his arms.

He caught her deftly, not about to let her fall and embarrass herself, and held her just long enough that she was steady before letting go. At least mostly. He kept one hand on hers in a desperate attempt to keep her from running, but he also didn't want to scare her. He'd chase after her if he had to, jump on a horse and run away from this party...

No...he knew he couldn't do that. Even now, out in public, he was risking scandal. He didn't want to marry Saanvi, but he didn't want to shame her either.

"Please just give me five minutes. If not now than tomorrow when I'm not in this ridiculous costume for this ridiculous show my mother forced me to attend. Please. For...for what we had...please..."

Stumbled though she did, she held on fiercely to her wine bottle, even as it splashed her as she was caught. For a brief moment she just wanted to shout and throw out all that rage and anger and sadness she carried over what happened...
To just act like a ridiculous and wreckless child.

But then she finally saw his face...
Got to look into those eyes again.. 
To fall into them...

No. No. No.

She would not be drunk enough to fall back into those feelings, the ones that ached to be in his arms- to smell and feel him all around her.

No. No. No. No!

So she did the only thing she could think of in her drunken state, as her eyes flared for a moment with wild eyed passion- and attempted to deck him clean across the nose. 

He knew she would struggle - after all she had avoided him for the past five years and there had to have been a good reason for it. No...there was a good reason for it and he had never had the chance to explain, the chance to make her understand. He hadn't wanted this life! Not as it was. Not without her.

And then she swung and he was so shocked by the sudden aggression that he didn't react until it was too late and her fist crash across his face. His vision flared and his hand immediately let her go to cover his nose. The hit hadn't been at a good angle for strength, but it has been hard enough that his eyes watered and he expected he'd have a headache for the rest of the night.

"Ibra!" He cried out a few seconds later once he'd mentally recovered from the shock.

The triumphant lasted a few seconds before she lost her footing and began to crash into him, too drunk to keep her balance and suddenly she was laying in a heap atop of him in the reeds.

Gods, they were falling. He barely had time for his senses to return before he was on the ground and his intricately designed wedding attire scraped against stone and soil on one side, and Ibra on the other.

Instinctually his arms wrapped around her protectively as they tumbled and all of his focus was on keeping her unharmed. So, naturally, his hip took the brunt of the fall with a painful smack.

"Ibra, oh Gods, Ibra are you alright?" He asked, one arm still protectively around her while the other reached up to brush her hair from her face and search for injuries.

How much had she had to drink??

The world was spinning around as she lay there- familiar hands upon her form, rekindling feelings long since buried. She wanted to fall back into that sensation, that familiarity, that feeling where they just fit together...

But instead, she found herself suddenly choking on a sob and shrieking, "I hate you, Faraji! You terrible, awful wretch of a man! I hate you and your touch and our memories and everything we've ever done!"

Faraji felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over him when he words reached his ears. His blood pounded in his ears and cold dread washed down his spine. She hated him.

She hated him.

He had known she must be angry...be upset...but the way she spoke, the way his very existence seemed to bring out this almost feral, visceral side of her...

He stood, his face becoming a mask of stone. The face of a business man who needed to deal with a situation he would rather hide from. The face of someone who had lost.

"I'm sorry." He said with a small bow before assisting her to her feet. "I have forced myself where I am not wanted."

It took every second of training to keep his mask in place while, in truth, his heart was breaking all over again. All this time he had thought...had hoped...if he had just had the chance to explain about the engagement...

But no. Of course it was too late and the world didn't work like fairytales.

"Lady Koh'lesh do you need assistance finding your way home? I can send a servant to guide you and keep you safe."

She didn't want his assistance. She didn't even want him to touch her. And once she had realized he was helping her, she let out a defiant cry before dropping back drunkenly to her knees.

"I knew I  shouldn't have come!" She growled at herself and glared at her horse. "You did this! You betrayed me! I thought we were on the same side!" She shouted at her horse.

The woman was clearly too far gone on her alcohol... which was unlike Ibra- who, in times before- rarely drank and always kept a level head.

Then she waved off any motion from Faraji as she attempted to stand again. She was fine on it on her own! Except the floor mistepped and was in the reeds again. 

Faraji didn't know what to do. He loved this woman once, maybe still did. They had spent uncountable hours together years ago and he felt he knew everything about her but this? This drunk before him was not the Ibra he remembered and he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt.

He did this. His mother did this by announcing an engagement he did not agree to. And then he hadn't fought hard enough to find her and explain...

"Gods, Ibra..." he took a step forward.

"Faraji!!!" oh Gods, no.

His mother was beside him in an instant with a hand wrapped painfully around his arm. She was a short woman, but that didn't keep her from being terrifying and overbearing. She sneered down at Ibra, realizing who she was and...was that a sinister smile on her face?!

"Oh, Ibra, my dear. I didn't send you that invitation for you to actually come. Faraji is to be married and you need to stay away."

Faraji blanched and pulled his arm from her grasp, "You sent her an invitation? Why?" He almost whispered, disbelief dripping from every word.

"Information." Came her curt reply, "A warning to stay away. And rightly so, just look at her! Come. Inside. Saanvi is waiting."

Faraji shook his head, "No. Someone needs to walk her home."

"Inside. You have shamed this family enough by ignoring your betrothed all these years."

"I will not." He stood firm and took off his headdress at handed it to her, "Make my apologies. Make up whatever excuse you need to save face, but I will be taking her home."

She opened her mouth to argue and Faraji took a step forward, anger he hadn't felt before shuddering through him, "Go." he snapped, "You've already done enough damage tonight. Go fix it."

And he turned to once again assist Ibra. He didn't care if she didn't want it, the last tumble proved she needed it and he would take the abuse.

He deserved it.

That voice..
That terrible, wretched woman's voice...

Why had she showed up? No...no she was supposed to be there.  It was her son's pre-wedding party.

But even still..
She wanted to give that woman a piece of her mind.

And this time she actually used Faraji's assistance- which was basically her using his body as a ladder to hoist herself back to her feet.

But she barely got half way up, and cursed at herself for having gotten so sillily drunk. Why weren't her legs just listening to her?

"Where is she? I want to yank her damn wig off and shove it up her-"

"Ibra. Ibra, please." He held her shoulders and forcefully turned her away from where his mother was sulking back into the house with his wedding hat tucked under her arm. A quick glance told him she had clearly heard Ibra's curses, but she was too prideful to retaliate. Ibra was beneath her. Every shout just solidified that fact in her hateful mind.

Faraji walked her to the horse and placed her hand up on the reins. He would get her on the horse and then walk her back to wherever she actually was staying. Of course, that was assuming she was lucid enough to even remember.

"Up you go, yeah?" He kept his voice calm and level with a similar cadence he'd use on his nephews when they got too out of sorts and needed to be calmed down.

He stopped down to help lift her foot onto the stirrup and prepared to lift her the rest of the way up on the beast.

At first she allowed him to assist her. She wasn't fully cognizant of what was going on, and was barely draped across the saddle and hanging off the other side before she clung to the poor beasts' mane and righted herself.

Then she realized just who was touching her.. guiding her safely onto her horse and she let out a yell- arms flailing to push him away, which only made the exceedingly long sleeves of her sleeves smack across his form and begin to tangle upon him. 

"Why are you touching me!? I thought I told you to stay away!" She warned, grabbing the reins- her horse jolting to attention. 

"Just...Just stop!" he cried, doing his best to untangle her clothing from his arms and shoulders as she continued to flail.

"I know you don't want me here but I doubt you want to get attacked and left for dead in an alley. I'm taking you home and you don't have a choice."

And Gods he didn't have a choice either and just hoped, no, prayed it was dark enough that he wouldn't be recognized as they made their way through the city.

He hooked his own foot in the stirrup and nimbly swung up on the horse behind her. He positioned himself around her to pin her arms with his own and, hopefully keep her from punching him again or just falling off the horse and cracking her skull on the street.

"Stop fighting and tell me where you're staying." He told her firmly.

She tensed the moment their bodies touched- the strength and warmth and familiarity of his body pressed against her owns sent shivers down her spine, a fluttering in her heart and zings throughout her blood.

Oh, Hakeshna's name- how she has missed him. And despite herself, she released a soft breath- then began to brush at the pesky tears that began to fall, as if they were gnats. 

Most of what he said was lost unto her- she- feeling to proud to reply while she was on the verge of tears...
But also not trusting herself in her swirling state of drunk.

"Just.. just leave me at the delta." She managed to growl out. She was desperately trying to sober herself but...

Hakeshna name.. as her horse guided them forward down the reed trodened path... to just feel his body pressed so close and them both.. moving together to the rhythm of the horse's gently trot...

Her body ached to be his again. 

Faraji did everything he could to not focus on her, to not remember their last meeting, their final parting. He didn't want to remember when remembering only reminded him of her words that evening.

She hated him.

He would take her home, make sure she was safe, and then...then he supposed he would marry Saanvi and have a brood of children like a good eldest son. He'd run the empire, be the head of his family.

And despair for the rest of his miserable life.

I hate you.

"I'll not leave you at the delta." He told her, arms still pressing firmly against her shoulders in case she changed her mind and started fighting again. "I'm taking you home. Where is it?"

By Hakeshna's name...
He sounded and smelled and felt wonderful. Her mind rolled over her storming emotions.

Then at his question, she snorted.

"It's been so long you've forgotten where I live, Faraji? I suppose even the path there's likely been forgotten as well."


Her words held heat- venom.

He stiffened at her words, at the anger and hurt that consumed her, and reminded himself this was his fault. She had every right to be angry.

"Of course I remember." He kept his voice calm, his face stone, "But you might not be staying there. You might be staying with...someone else."

Hakeshna, was he fishing? Dammit he was fishing and it was completely unintentional. But...he was engaged so she might be with someone as well. Perhaps married. Mayhap she had a family with children of her own. He didn't know this new Ibra.

Another snort of a laugh came.

"Why would I ever trust a man again? I wasted how many of my years with you and for what? " She clenched her jaw, hands tightening into fists.

"You didn't even have the decency to warn me you'd be betrothed." The words came out with a bitter sting.

And there it was. The reason for her hate. The reason he deserved every ounce of ire that she gave him. He even deserves the punch against his nose earlier and the pure vitriol that cascaded from her mouth.

"I didn't know." He responded after a full minute of silence, "I didn't know until the announcements were sent. My...mother signed the agreements on my behalf and then...I tried to come and find you but you were gone..."

He took a deep breath and when he spoke he couldn't stop his voice from cracking, "It was supposed to be you."

She was stewing in her heat, her hate, even longing when he spoke.  Then tensed at his words.. at his confession...

Part of her hoped he didn't want it..
Still wanted her...


Then he said it and she felt ice sink into her belly, then tingles rise up from her fingers and toes. And her heart raced, her mind doing wreckless somersaults - before she knew what she was doing- she was trying to fling herself off of her horse to be rid of him.


Because he couldn't see her cry.  It was blinding.  She was strong.. proud... not this weak woman who was about to weep.

And then she was moving and actively trying to get away from him despite being on an actual horse, that was moving. Despite his attempts to keep her in place, she still caught him off guard and he found himself wrestling with her.

"Ibra, stop!" He cried out, trying to grab her again, but finding the fabric of her attire making it difficult to get a solid grip. And she was strong. She'd always been strong, but drink made her strong and unpredictable and he was losing.

"Stop! You're going to fall!" he finally snaked his arms fully around her just as she let out a particularly large flail that made him lose his balance. His legs couldn't keep him upright, and if he let go of her she would topple and get hurt.

So together they fell off and onto the stones below. He was able to position himself so he would take the brunt of the fall and spare her, so his shoulder hit first and he grunted with pain before the rest of him hit the ground with Ibra still held in his arms.

This fall was painful for them both- her body pulled forecably close to his as she could feel the hard rocks through him.

She stopped squirming, breathing heavily as tears still blurred her eyes.

"How.. how could you not know?" Her question came out raw, almost savage.

His shoulder burned and he couldn't help the tears that filled his eyes after the impact. Based on their fall, he wouldn't be surprised if he'd broken a bone. Even his grip on that side had lessened and he couldn't do much more than wiggle his fingers without pain.

"I didn't." He repeated, knowing full well how ridiculous it sounded, "She called me in to talk to me and Saanvi was there...with her whole family and they were congratulating us."

He gently repositioned themselves so she was no longer on top of him and he pushed himself into a seated position. He winced and grunted as he moved his injured arm across his lap.

With his good hand, he plucked a ring from his pinky - a delicate band of gold that looked like several strands had been woven together and each connecting point was decorated with an emerald. He held it out to her on his palm.

"I was coming to see you that day...I had all of the paperwork...she wouldn't have been able to do anything after that but...she found out. She won."

It was dark. And she was drunk.

"What are you going on about?"
She waved his hand away.. accidentally knocking the ring from his hand-

She caught the glint of it as it tumbled into nearby reeds. 

Was that.

Why did..

Did he just...
Too many thought spun about inside her head.

Paperwork.. was it a ring?.. his family surprising him... his mother always hated her... and.. had that been....


"Why..." she went on, tears streaming down her face, cheeks hot an red. "Why would you.. why was that.. that in your pocket!? "

What would it change!? What would it mean!?

He panicked when the ring flew from his hand and scrambled to find it, to pick it up and put it back on his pinky. He hadn't taken it off in the past five years. It was a constant reminder of what he'd lost, what was stolen from him.

"I had it made for you." He croaked, still cradling his arms, but he was sitting on his knees now, refusing to meet her eyes. Why was this so hard? He'd lived with this pain for so long, with this guilt, it shouldn't still feel the raw!

"I've worn it ever since...ever since...Ibra I'm so sorry." He felt tears on his cheeks as his mask failed him, "I didn't know what to do, I was trapped. I should have followed you to wherever you disappeared to. I should have left all of this behind."

No.

No. No. No. No. No!

She was shaking her head and furiously wiping at her tears. Then she stood up suddenly- and almost fell over. She caught herself on a nearby tree. 

"Don't you dare.. Don't you dare sputter out what could be! It's too late. You've made your choice."

There was even a goddamn party. 

She was shaking.

"I haven't seen you in years."

"You're right. I'm sorry. It is too late." He stood, still holding his injured arm close to his chest, "Please just let me take you home. I'll leave. I'll leave you alone and never come back. I just want to make sure you get home safely and then I'll go."

He still didn't meet her eyes.

"Please."

She couldn't believe this and turned away, raking a hand through her dark hair and just looking out into the night. 

Their first time together had been on a night like this.. their first fight.. their first time having sex.

Somewhere off in the distance.. was there thunder? No. .. she had to be drunk. It rarely stormed here. The storm would likely move off to sea.

But the smell of the river reeds.. the water..and the night birds...

She had to turn away from him. She couldn't stand to look.. to see him...

But then something caught her eyes.  She was confused at first then realized...

She stumbled back slowly towards Faraji... as two piercing eyes of a crocodile began to slowly move their way. 

He didn't spot the creature until Ibra was practically backed up against him and his whole body was filled with dread. He had a ceremonial dagger, otherwise he was completely unarmed and she was so drunk she could hardly stand.

Of course he could try and wrestle the beast, but that would require two good arms and he only had the one. But...The alternative...

"Please try to forgive me one day." He murmured into her ear before kissing her on her cheek, close to the side of her mouth, and then scooped her up and threw her, with a cry of pain from his shoulder, on her belly back onto the horse. Then he gave his hindquarters a smack to send him galloping away with his precious cargo.

Whatever happened to him now, at least she should be able to get away.

He turned back to the crocodile, good arm outstretched in a defensive position.

Ibra gasped as she was deposited onto the saddle. 

"Fa.... Faraji!"
But her shouts were likely muffled by the galloping hooves. After a time she was able to control the horse- getting herself back into the saddle and turning him around.

No.. she would not lose him this way. 

She gave a roar and slammed her heels into the beast, charging back the way she had come.  Beneath her dress she pulled put a thin blade, one crafted light as a feather and thin, like a needle. 

She saw Faraji's form and cried out. "Catch!" And threw the blade at him. She then wrenched the reins back and her horse clopped to a sudden halt. Then the gemstones along her wrists began to glow with summoned powers.

Faraji kept a good distance from the crocodile, doing his best to seem both aggressive enough to be left alone and not considered dinner, while also being submissive and not a threat.

The way he continued to stalk forward made Faraji think he was failing on one or both counts.

Then he lunged and Faraji nimbly stepped to the side. This was bad. This was really bad...

Maybe if he died here he'd finally be forgiven. At least then he wouldn't have to marry Saanvi and there wouldn't be any shame brought down on either of their houses. Heir to the Achebe fortune mutilated by a river beast the night of his engagement party.

Another lunge, another dodge.

And then...was that hoofbeats coming closer? No...dammit Ibra, no!

But she called his name and he nearly missed the blade that came whistling towards him. Good thing, too, or he would have been impaled instead of eaten. Though maybe that would have been more poetic.

Now he had a sword...in his non-dominant hand.

At least it was something.

He turned back to the beast and looked for an opening. So great was his tunnel vision he didn't even notice the glow coming from Ibra on top of her horse.

Normally reserved to make colored sands dance- desert sands worked just as well, and she dismounted quickly and kicked at the ground.  Sands and dirt...

It would have to do. So while Faraji was busy barely missing some chomps of teeth, Ibra's hands and body moved with a dancer's grace and swirls of winds began to pool.  The Gem stones continued to alight, reflected in the depths of her violet eyes.

And behind her the winds and sands pulled and pulled with great strength- that even she wasn't prepared for the flash if lightning that illuminated the massive beast of dirt she sculpted.

Had she yanked the storm this way with her magics?

There was no time to think on that! As the dancing beast of sands twisted and writhed above her she raised both hands up and called out to Faraji.

"Move aside!" Her voice commanded, bellowed- and she waited for her former lover to obey- before commanding the wind beast forward as it plowed clean into the crocodile- which thrashed about wildly at the sands.

Another snap of the crocodile's caught his pants and scraped across his leg, just before Ibra was down from the horse and dancing towards him with sand swirling around. Faraji didn't wait to ask questions, he simply moved, ignoring the blood that ran down his leg and everything else.

And then the sand thing slammed into the crocodile while Faraji covered his eyes against the stray grains that whipped around them like tiny pieces of glass.

She commanded the winds to dance and bend- faster and faster- forcing the crocodile to slip back towards the waters.

By then, Ibra had yanked Faraji towards her side, growling.
"Don't you ever do that again! Don't you-" then she gasped at the sight of blood on his leg as threatening flashes of lightning over head continued to warn of a storm.

"You're hurt!"

Faraji was more hurt than she knew and he was forced to bite his tongue to keep from crying out when she grabbed his injured arm and yanked him forward. The arm was far worse than the blood on his leg, despite what it appeared. The beast's teeth had grazed on the bony part of his shin which would bleed far more than it should.

"I'm fine. It's fine." He tried to put the mask back on, but the throbbing in his shoulder from her grip was making it difficult to concentrate on anything else.

"Truly." He lied, "Your safety is far more important than mine. Are you injured?"

She wasn't stupid.  Only drunk. 
And Ibra Koh'lesh was still one od the most perceptive women he might ever know.

So when he attempted to make a fuss over her- she intentionally moved his injured arm in a way that she knew would bring pain. 

When he'd yelp she'd release him and glared daggers into his eyes .

"Then what do you call that mangled mess of your arm?" She poked roughly at his chest.  "And this whole thing.. do you honestly thing you can just get out of my wrath by being eaten by a crocodile!?"

A flash of lightning illuminated her wild espression- making her look like some wicked creature than a Essryni lady.

"You aiming to die a hero!? I don't think so, Faraji! I'm not done making you suffer yet! You have no idea the pain you've caused me these past few years and I.. I.."

Another flash of lightning illuminated her face again- one carved of great grief and sorrow.

And there were tears. She was crying, salty tears running down her cheeks.


Then it began to rain.

Sure enough the moment she moved his hand, he bit back another scream which came out as a muffled cry deep in his throat. Tears sprang to his eyes and his breath came in gasps. Once she let go, he immediately pulled it protectively to his chest and blinked away the stars that danced before his eyes.

"I don't want to be a martyr, or a hero, I just want to keep you safe. Safe from me, from my mother, from my life." He told her desperately.

"Besides. Dying is a lot more appealing than being forced into a marriage I don't want. A marriage I've never wanted."

And then he felt his own hurt and betrayal that he'd suppressed for five years bubble to the surface, "You left, Ibra! You sent that damned note and then you were gone like you didn't know me. Like you thought I would actually do that to you. Like you don't know my mother. You didn't return any of my letters, I'm not even sure they even reached you." His voice was getting louder as he spoke, as his own pain was finally given a voice.

And then she was crying. The sky was crying with her.

He couldn't take it. It couldn't take any of it!

A few large, aggressive steps was all it took to bridge the gap between them and he grabbed her head with his good arm and kissed her.

A loud crash of thunder shook- flashing the pair in wicked, wild light.  But the wildness of the growing storm  paled in comparison to the tempest of emotion that shook through the pair. 

Through the anger- the sadness- the tears and the oppression...
The walls came tumbling down and she found herself unable to stop her kisses.

By now the rain began to come down in sheets, soaking the grounds as the threat of a desert flash flood became real. But she didn't care- the one emotion, her piece of her heart  had returned to her like the thundering rush of the storm. And she did not want to let this go.

Faraji knew what he was doing was wrong. Saanvi was waiting back at his house, at their pre-wedding party, and he was here holding another woman. It didn't matter that it should have been her, what mattered was that it wasn't , and despite everything he didn't want to shame his family, or the family of his betrothed. He needed to make a clean break and then, then he could be here. H shouldn't be here now.

But he was.

Gods, he was here now and he couldn't stop the floodgates. Years of holding back, of suppressing his feelings behind that mask of stone all nobility have to learn to survive - he especially after she'd left.

His good hand wove into her hair and he pulled her close as the rain enveloped them and hid them from view. No one would be out in this. He loved her. He'd never stopped loving her.

His kisses were more intoxicating than all the alcohol she had, combined. And even the warning flashes of the rain- the cracks of thunder and waters already pooling at their feet...
Even that couldn't pull her away from the flood of emotions.

She couldn't help herself as even her body was drawn to his like the natural allure of magnetism. Hands felt up and down the muscles of his back, before wrapping around him in a desperate embrace.

And between unyielding kisses she'd breath.
And she'd say.. "Make love to me."

And she looked into his eyes, pleading with him that they could share that one intimate moment to make him her's again.

Oh Hakeshna, no. No, she wasn't asking him that question. He shuddered as memories of their relationship years ago came flooding back and desire made him drunk and stupid. Still he kissed her, pressing into her as much as his injuries would allow, while rediscovering the feel of her.

But this was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

He pulled his lips away and let his forehead press against hers while taking deep, steadying breaths to chase away the passion that threatened to blind him.

"Ibra...I can't...not like this." She was drunk, he was hurt, and he needed to break things off with Saanvi.

She felt her swelling heart tear apart again at the rejection- a flash of lightning illuminating her form. He'd see her grief, the pain.. even the anger.

But the waters were now tugging at their ankles and threatening to rise further. A storm in the desert could be deadly.

But she didn't care. It hurt too much.

And he was right there.

She felt as if the world was grieving with her. The rain.. the storm...

But she didn't pull away from him. She was past running away now.

"Then I guess this is it, then."

Their final goodbye. 

"Stop it." But this time his words were forceful, demanding, instead of spoken in supplication. He gripped her chin with his hand and leaned in for another passionate, firm kiss like a wanderer in the desert who had just found the first hint of water. He let the rain and the feel of her wash over him as they both tugged him - warred with him.

"This is only the end if you want it to be," he pulled back to say, "But I don't want this to be the end. Don't make the same mistake again. Don't run away."

And he kissed her again, this time letting her completely consume him to the point it was painful to pull away, and he shuddered. Gods he wanted to say yes.

"It's only ever been you, Ibra. It's always been you."

Her eyes still shone, red with tears as she looked into his eyes again.  Then she grabbed a hold of his face, cupped hands catching wild rain waters as they splashed against his cheeks and she kissed him, and kissed him fierce.

"I didn't return this affection to simply burn it up in the trash." She held his eyes, and the fierceness that made her Ibra Koh'lesh shone through.

"But it's been five years, Faraji..."

"Then we have a lot to talk about." He replied flatly, as if the very mention of how many years they'd been estranged was the most insignificant thing in the world.

"But first, we need to get you home." He glanced at the sky and then back at her. Both of them were drenched, which was lucky for him as it had already washed the blood from his clothes, but it also showed every curve of her body as her clothes clung to her.

"Can you...ah..." he pointed to the sky.

Ibra just looked at him and began to feel deflated.  Though as the storm waters swelled, she felt the current pull at them both, dangerously.

She didn't even hear the last statement he said, before she suddenly exclaimed about feeling sick- then  doubled over to vomit into the raging waters. 

Faraji was not one for vulgarity, but as the waters continued to rise and now Ibra's condition deteriorating, he couldn't help the string of curses that flew from his tongue. She wasn't going to be of any help and they needed to move now before the flash flood swept them away.

And it was getting to the point of imminent danger far faster than he would have liked.

Hakeshna help them, what could he even do? He knew his arm wouldn't support her, they weren't close to any places of refuge, not terribly far from his home but also too far to be of any help.

The horse was their only hope, and even that was slim. How long could he withstand the waters as they began to move in earnest?

It didn't really matter at this point. Faraji grabbed Ibra and forcefully put her foot in the stirrup to get her up. "Let's go. Up you get." He encouraged, not wholly certain he'd be able to climb up himself at this point, but he had to get her there at least.

As he did so, she caught his hand and turned to him. Her grip tightened. 

"This time I think you should be joining me for this ride?" She asked, though it was almost a threat. "Get on. Come on." 

She wasn't going anywhere without him.

He nodded. He wasn't about to send her off alone if they could both get on the horse and survive the flood - he wasn't a fool and she wasn't going to be rid of him that easily.

"Of course. Up!" Once he was certain she was securely on his back, he placed his own foot in the stirrup and attempted to hoist himself up. It was a challenge. His dead arm was in the way and he struggled to find his balance without being able to firmly hold onto the reins.

Attempt one and he was back in the water which was now up past his shins. He needed to go faster. The water was rising and the production was wasting time.

Second time, he didn't give enough force to his muscles and fell short.

Last time. It had to work this time.

This time he was able to extend his leg fully and went to swing the other over the geldings back, when the bite from the crocodile twinged and his muscles spasmed. He couldn't catch hold of the reins and he fell back first into the water with a cry and disappeared from view.

"Faraji! No!"

Light exploded from the gemstones lining her wrists and she reached out with raw need into the very air, into the very storm itself to force the storm winds to obey her- ripping them from their vicious cycled track and channeling it through her body, then gemstones so much that the raw power itself made her cry out and cry blood-

And then with the ferocity of the storm she tore the winds clean into and through the raging waters before them and parted the very flood waters that roared and rushed all around them.
And she kept at it, unrelenting as the waters bubbled and parted in a froth of anger before her then rushed away- clearing the lands in her wake as she turned in hopes to see Faraji now free of the water. Or had it been too late?

The water wasn't so high that he'd be swept away, not yet, but it was just high enough that it covered him completely; filled his nose, his ears, his open mouth. And then his back smacked onto the ground and he saw stars. His lungs emptied of air and if Ibra hadn't channeled her stones, he might have taken a big, final breath of debris filled water.

As it stood, the water parted around him and he was able to roll on his side and cough up the water that had managed to enter. Rough, full bodies coughs that sent tears from his eyes to mingle with the rain and the flood.

He pushed himself to his knees, letting the last of it to leave his lungs, and then stumbled to his feet and managed to find the horse again.

To find Ibra.

Adrenaline helped him pull himself exhausted up onto the horse behind Ibra.

Her body was tense as she forced the winds to obey. She felt herself straining, losing her grip.

But then he was on the horse and she collapsed back into him, arms shaking.

"We.. we need to go now.. i.. I can't..can't keep controlling the winds.."

Blood was seeping from her eyes and nose. She almost dropped the reins.

He ignored the pain from his shoulder by as he wrapped his arms around her and took the reins. His head was pounding, but the fear that coursed through when he felt her shaking and spotted the blood on her face was enough to numb everything.

"Hold on." He kissed the top of her head and pressed his heals into the gelding's flanks. The horse obeyed almost immediately and Faraji moved as quickly as he dared towards Ibra's home.

As she felt the horse gallop away, her vision began to fade. She clung onto him, body shaking. 

"Just keep.. keep riding I..."

The lights in the gems went out. Her eyes rolled back as she fell limply into his arms- while the blade of winds were drawn back into the storm clouds and the wild waters they held back suddenly rushed forward. 

For the second time this night, the eldest and heir of the Achebe family, who was usually so poised and composed, found himself letting out a string of curses in multiple languages - he was fluent in six. The knee high waters rushed around them and the horse began to whinny nervously.

Faraji tried to console him, to keep him calm, all the while forcing down complete and utter terror. They were stuck. The storm would continue and the waters would rise. Hakeshna save them...

He continued to maneuver the horse towards her home, but he knew they wouldn't make it. It was too far!

He made a split second decision, deciding their lives were more important than reputations, and turned back towards his estates. They were much closer and he was certain his mother had already sent out the search parties to ensure her precious son's safety.

So they rode. The rains continued almost out of spite, but the walls came into view and they didn't fall.

A shout went up and the gates opened - his home was on top of a hill so the waters weren't nearly as high here, though that wouldn't last for long.

"My Lord!!" He heard the familiar voices of his home calling to him, and then they were inside and being pulled from the horse before half dragged, half carried into the front door. The guests were still there, none daring to venture out during a storm of this caliber, and as such his return, with the unconscious Ibra, was well noted by each and every person present.

"Take care of her, please." Faraji demanded of one of his more trusted guards, "A room, healers, anything she needs."

Then he was climbing the stairs where his mother, his father, and Saanvi waited, clinging to one another with fear.

The guards quickly escorted the woman to a room where servants quickly fussed over her condition. She was unmoving and cold, blood still seeping from her nose.  All the while the storm roared about furiously outside.

Word of the unexpected guest Faraji brought home from the storm quickly spread.  Some saw as a curse.. others as a sign. Storms were not to be ignored. Nor their warnings.. nor gifts. 

While Ibra was whisked away, Faraji found himself surrounded by concerned family and servants who whispered behind his back some ridiculous story about how the Gods themselves called him away to save that poor woman. By the end of the night he was being hailed as some kind of prophet - he had survived the storm on horseback, while injured, and still managed to save her.

It was ridiculous. It was obviously spread by his mother. But people left with the take firmly planted in their heads by the time the floods receded and the rains stopped.

Faraji's shoulder was broken, as he had suspected, and the cut on his leg had needed two stitches but was otherwise nothing terrible. His tea had been laced with so much pain killers he didn't even remembered them setting the bone when he awoke hours later in his own bed.

With Saanvi sitting beside him.

"Are you to have a mistress even before we wed?" She had asked him. Hakeshna it would have been easier if she had just been dumb, but even though she was young she was perceptive, strong.

She would make a fine wife to someone else.

Now it was his turn to sit beside the bed of a wounded lover. Ibra had been changed, cleaned, and attended to and looked to only be sleeping if he hadn't known better. His dominant hand was tied up in a sling, but that didn't stop him from holding her hand with his other while he waited.

He turned away all food and drink and just...waited...hoping that she would wake.

Hoping that this hadn't all been in vain.

As she slept, he had good reasons to be concerned- for it seemed she slept like the dead. The fact she was out for more than a day only added to the uncomfortable tension within the home.

But the in morning she did stir- it was a peaceful day, a stark contrast to the raging storm she had fallen prey to. Yellow light had been creeping into the room, gently blanketing itself all the way across the open room to where it began to reach upon the bed.

Then her fingers moved, lightly gripping a hand that was there before violet eyes opened as she looked up at him.

Confusion made her frown, and weariness from over doing it with her powers weighed her to the bed. Her frown deepened.

"Faraji?"

What.. what had happened!?

Faraji's eyes were closed and his head had laid down on the bed next to her when she spoke his name. He had just given in for a second, just a short moment to rest and then he'd be back to his faithful watch. But one second had turned into...well, we didn't rightly know but the sun had not been up when he'd last looked.

In an instant he jolted awake and blinked the sleep from his eyes. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and leaned forward to brush the hair behind her ear like a doting mother, though really he was using it as an excuse to see that she was actually awake and it wasn't some awful dream.

"Ibra! Oh thank Hakeshna." He stared with an uncontrollable intensity into her eyes, worry melting away to relief.

He turned and pulled a rope on the wall that would call servants to her room to ensure she had everything she needed whether food, bath, or even more medical care.

"How are you feeling?"

She wasn't sure she was ready to wake up to her former lover by her side. But her entire body felt God awful and her memory was still blank over what had occurred. 

Then he was getting up, alerting his entire house.

She sat up best she could but her body ached and weighed like lead.  And when he returned she visibly  leaned away from him. Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. 

The confusion was evident - she hadn't remembered. 

But she hadn't entirely forgotten it either- it was just too much to take in in that moment- for she felt she had awoken from the dead.

"What's.. going on?" She asked, voice on edge as she shot daggers at the approaching servants. 

Faraji didn't notice her reaction until he returned his attention from the bell, and a deep seated dread began forming in the pit of his stomach. This is why he had rejected her last night. This look. This fear.

At least it had only been a kiss. At least he could still make the right choice when it came down to it.

He didn't reach for her again, but kept his hands in his lap as he watched her.

"We ran into each other last night." He replied calmly, evenly, "You were outside the gates and I insisted on walking you home. Then the floods came. You tried to stop them but...it took all of your strength. I'm sorry I brought you here, but it was our only option."

The memories began to bubble up on what he was saying...
She remembered the storm now and her furious pull of its winds...
But what lead to such an intense moment?


She froze, cheeks heating as she began to recall the rest.

"I... see.."
She avoided his gaze, recalling how drunk and ridiculous she had been.

"I suppose I should thank you for caring for me then."
Her voice had returned to its coolness, prim and almost prickly.

The way she spoke to him now felt worse than the vitriol that spilled from her lips towards him the previous night. At least there was a level of care, of feeling then, but this Ibra? This business woman was cool and perfectly composed and it hurt just like that letter she'd sent all those years ago.

"How much do you remember?" He asked softly. Had it all been a lie brought about by wine? Had her petition meant nothing? Their kiss in the rain a falsehood? Did she wish that none of it had ever happened?

She tried not to visibly squirm..
But she was mortified Faraji had ever seen her in such a state.
Never mind his initial rejection to her out right wanting to just throw herself at him and have sex..


And the kisses.. the words....
She frowned, head still lowered, as if ashamed.

But the memories were getting laced and jumbled with her own doubt. Surely he hadn't entertained wanting to be with her again. He was betrothed...

Her mind hazed over that memory- then she stiffened suddenly.

"Enough to know I acted a fool," She admitted, still unable to look him on the eye.  Fingers trailed across her lips as more memories surfaced...

Had his mother been there? She winced- a sudden and violent seering pain lanced through her skull. And despite her trying to compose herself, to be that calm, cool woman she was known for...

She felt her mind sway and her stomach lurch.

"I think..." sge felt light headed.  "I think I'm going to be sick."

And somehow a servant managed to scramble overabundance offer her a brass pot thar she vomitted in.

Faraji might love her deeply to the point of pain, and want nothing more than to ensure her health, but he was also the eldest son of an extremely affluent family and born and raised with extreme privileges. As such, instead of reaching for her to offer help, his instincts sent him sitting further back in his seat while the servants did their job.

After a moment, he even stood to gaze out the window in an attempt to offer her privacy. He knew he wouldn't like her to see him in such a state and, considering her cheeks and averted gaze, he imagined she was already embarrassed enough without him just staring at her.

A servant came over and touched his shoulder to signal she was presentable again. Then, and only then, did he return to the chair beside her.

"Water and some calming tea." He commanded one of the servants who bowed and immediately sped off to complete his given job. Another poured a glass of water from a pitcher on the side table and brought one over for him and offered one for Ibra. Another was asking her quietly if she wanted to sit and was prepared with extra pillows and support to raise her should she so choose.

She felt little better but chose to have the pillows moved to help her sit up. Then at his command, one of the women rushed off to prepare some tea.

By then, she was able to look at him again, uncertainty still held within her eyes.

She wasn't sure what she could say.. or even do..

They were in his house...

Her frown deepened as she tried to read his eyes, as she used to always do in the past. What was she allowed to say or do here? It felt so taboo.. as if she were in the lion's den.

Once it was clear she was doing alright, the servants bowed out of the room with a wave of Faraji's hand and they were alone. It might have seemed risqué, or unpropitious, but at this point he didn't care what people thought. The people of his house already knew the drama with Saanvi and his mother, they were all employed when he and Ibra had been together and their loyalty always fell to his family. In this home, their secrets were safe.

He reached for her hand again and stopped halfway to quickly return it to his lap. He didn't know how she would take this, take any of this, but he was certain she must be feeling a level of power imbalance.

"I'm truly sorry. If there had been any other way to escape the floods I wouldn't have brought you here." The servant with the tea returned and left it on the side table before he, too, was waved from the room.

Faraji reached for the intricately painted pot and poured the steaming water over the metal strainer. The spices and leaves wafted through the room as they steeped and he continued to prepare it the exact way Ibra would have taken it five years ago. He hoped that hadn't changed.

He held it out for her, head bowed in respect.

After a moment, when they were truly alone, she snorted at his statement and have a dramatic roll of her eyes. But she accepted the tea.

"My brain is a little foggy over it all, but I don't think saving our lives warrants an apology nor excuse."

After she took the tea he had offered, he poured a cup for himself and sat back, blowing gently over the top which sent more of the scent wafting through the air. Just the smell of it alone brought him a sense of peace and he hoped Ibra would experience something similar. For now, he let the tea take his attention while trying to figure out what to say to her.

"I'm glad you're ok." He finally decided was a safe thing to say, and truthful.

"I meant everything I said last night." Less safe. He kept his eyes on the cup held in his non-slinged hand.

Her eyes got lost in the steaming tea, and it's smell.  She frowned at that- and thought back to what she could of the jumbled mess of memories from the night of the storm. 

"Well.. that complicates a lot, doesn't it?" She said, gently clearing her throat. 

She finally looked to him.

"A bit." He admitted without lifting his eyes. The cup of tea rested on his crossed knee and he ran his forefinger around the rim. He hadn't actually taken a sip yet and just let the steam tickle his palm and enter his nose.

"They knocked me out when they set my shoulder. Saanvi was there when I woke up...asking about you...perceptive." He didn't continue. He didn't want to continue. The conversation hadn't gone well. He had seen a side of her that he'd never even believed existed, though he had spent so many years avoiding her he really shouldn't have been surprised.

He sighed and finally raised the cup to his lips and took the smallest sips. He still didn't meet her eye.

She frowned at the way he avoided her gaze and looked to her own cup of tea before sighing. 

"I hadn't meant to be there that night. I'm... not even sure how I ended up at your back door."

She cleared her throat and went back to business. 

"I apologize for embarrassing you and ruining your party. Is Saanvi here? I suppose I ought to apologize to her as well. "

At that, Faraji finally jerked his gaze up to finally look at Ibra. The mask was fully on her face, and he was struck with the irony that his inability to talk to her was once again sending the wrong message, making all of this just wrong.

"No. No, you don't understand." He reached for her hand and didn't stop, this time, "I told her the engagement was off. I told her I couldn't do it anymore, that she deserved someone who wanted her."

Ibra tensed at his touch, almost jerking her hand away. But then she froze at his words.

He did what?

He looked at her with such complete sincerity that she would be hard pressed to think he was lying. There wasn't a spec of guile in his eyes and he'd even knocked his tea to the floor by lunging for her hand. It laid there now soaking into the plush rug completely forgotten.

"I meant what I said." He repeated, still holding onto her hand, "I meant every word. But..." he looked down at their hands and frowned while absently tracing the lines on her palm with his finger.

"She didn't take it well. "

She frowned, studying him as they shared a heavy moment of silence.

"You defy your parents?" She asked carefully. It was her turn to take his hand, opening it your look at his palm.

"Even five years later.." she began, thinking back to that day.  "I was hurt deeply and confused... I couldn't deal with it because I.." she cringed , not wanting to relive it. Fresh tears welled within her eyes. 

"I was a fool, Faraji. I had lost myself that day. And it was awful.." she spoke, barely above a whisper as tears threatened to fall.

"I should have known. But I.. I didn't want to believe your parents could hate me so much that they would simply do this behind your back and I.."

Her vision clouded with tears as she blinked and get began to roll like down her cheeks.

"I wasn't in a good head space either to receive the news  ." She sniffled and turned away, trying to compose herself by brushing away tears.

"We were both fools. Young, passionate fools who thought we had everything figured out. I spent the last five years living the life of a fool, thinking it was all I had, thinking you no longer wanted me."

He took a breath and moved his hand from her grip so he could rest it across her cheek, "It's taken me five years and a chance run in to realize this life isn't worth it without you in it. I saw you and felt the fires light anew...they were never gone, Ibra Koh'lesh. Buried, but not gone."

Her eyes returned to his. She couldn't help the smile she wore as she laughed, brushing back more tears as she said , "And there I was at my worst yet you go on about your heart's fire.."

She shook her head.
"By the history of fools, why did I drink so much?"

"Have I not made myself clear?" He asked with a frown and a slight cock of his head. His thumb traced just outside of her lips, "I didn't fall in love with your best. I fell in love with your worst, your average, you. I haven't stopped loving you."

And then he smiled, "The stars don't always tell us their plans, Ibra. Perhaps wine was the only way we'd end up here."

She shot him a look then groaned. 
"I think I still have a hang over.  How long was I out?"

She was never much a fan of getting drunk, and one could have even classified it repulsed her. Yet here they were. Mistakes continuing to be made. But even still, her eyes sought his.

She rested a hand over top of hid and smiled. 

He let his thumb brush against her lower lip, feeling heat rise in him the more he touch her skin, and then dropped it to retrieve the discarded cup and place it back on the tray.

"The tea should help with that," he nodded towards her cup, "you should drink it, then I'll pour you some more. You were out for at least a whole day, maybe a little longer. I wasn't awake for all of it so I'm not the best person to ask.

Would you like something stronger? We have plenty that can help with headaches."

Her own cheeks heated at the touch, but then he moved away, and she had to readjust herself on the bed.

She studied him.

"Here I am, wallowing over my own pain- but how are you feeling?" She gently touched his shoulder.  "That can't feel all that great. "

Her touch was gentle, but his shoulder was still so tender and even the slightest pressure was enough to make him wince. Which he did, and reflexively pull back.  Now that the adrenaline was gone, it ached fiercely and he was amazed at the things he had been able to do with it.

"Ah...no. It doesn't feel nice. But I'll live and I'm sure my mother is already looking for someone with more...immediate skills."

His hand reached back onto the bed and he ran his thumb across her knuckles, enjoying the pleasure a touch this simple brought him.

"You need to eat, drink. You really over did it and you'll need your strength."

She cocked an eyebrow. 
But then she sighed.  "I suppose you're right ."

He was always the more romantic one of the pair.  He was always so sweet with his touches.. where as she...?

She suppose it made sense she wanted to make love to him while high on emotions and drunk.  She was blunt, but truthful, and took this moment to lift his hand to her lips as she kissed it then pressed it to her cheek.

"Your family is probably right. I don't deserve you." She closed her eyes, sighing. 

His eyes flashed with an anger that was new to him over the past five years. Before he had been sweet almost to a fault. His head had always been in the clouds and he'd always been quick to see the good in almost every situation. But after losing her, after being forced to become, fully, the dutiful son, he had begun nurturing a growing seed of resentment and grief.

"My family is wrong. They had no right to do what they did to you and what they did to me. I don't give a damn what they think anymore and if they don't like it they can give my inheritance to my brother." Which he knew they'd never do. Hakene was young and foolish and never had the mind for business. Vihaan and Arav were too busy frequenting the priestesses in the name of religious enlightenment that they rarely had time for anything else. They'd never give the estate to his sisters either - it just wasn't done.

But...

"Ibra..." he moved to sit beside her on the bed, to move himself closer to her while once again pressing his hand against her cheek, "I know thinking you might still want me, want this, could just be me playing the fool again, especially after what I'll about to tell you..."

He took a deep breath but kept his gaze firmly, steadily upon her.

"Saanvi is taking our contract to the Consul. She is claiming I am breaking it in bad faith and seeking to have it enforced. I don't have any proof I didn't accept the betrothal and she has five years of our engagement to back her claim. She could win."

A cold chill curdled inside her belly and crept up her veins.

The Consul...
She felt a hot surge of anger at the idea of anyone, even the law, to force Faraji into such a union.

Then she thought back to what he said and she grabbed his face roughly and kissed him rough and deep. The moment was on pure instinct. The heat, the fire, the passion... she just let it drive her. When she finally pulled away, she growled, "I've only ever wanted you, Faraji. Only you. And if you'll have me again, I will be yours and only yours- the Consel be damned."

Faraji didn't expect to kiss her again so soon and he certainly didn't think she would be the one initiating it. Her aggression and passion caught him off guard, but only for a moment before he was gripping her neck with his hand and pulling her close. And Hakeshna she felt good. He could have continued to kiss her like this and more if she hadn't pulled back. She left him winded, hot as if on fire, and taught like a drawn bow.

He didn't let go of her neck and let his fingers circle through her hair, "I could lose. I could be forced to marry her. I'm allowed to marry more than one and that could be why I lose more than any other reason. I'll be forced to be with her, you know that...I...that's not fair to you, Ibra."

His finger dragged against the back of her neck, it was hard to breathe with her so close, with the taste of her still on his lips.

He had a point- and she wasn't exactly a woman that liked to share- not like this. Not with love.

But the fire in her eyes began to turn, recalling what she had been through in her absence. 

"Faraji.. I.. have something to tell you. About.. some of the reasons why I went away.."

She had been cupping his face, unable to look away from the intensity of his eyes.

He shook his head, "I don't need a reason, all that matters is you're back. You're here. Hakeshna, you're here."

And he leaned in again to cover his lips with his own, pulling her close and letting passion drive him. He had wanted to say yes last night, he had wanted her in his arms again and now that he had done everything he could do he felt no regret or remorse for how he kissed her now.

"I've missed you, Ibra..." he sighed against her before diving back in for more, his hand wandering down her back and onto her waist.

By the books, his kisses lit a fire within her that had, for so long, been denied. She moaned breathily as their kisses intensified, shivering the moment his hands stroked her , stoked her- she had to have him.

Too long it had been since she'd shared her body with a man- and she ached for that touch. She needed that whole confirmation and she leaned  and bowed into his touch.

Her tongue sought out his within the hollows of his mouth as she moaned and moved with haste to unlace the damn lacings of her robes.

They eventually fell away, exposing heavy breasts and pert ripples as she shivered and wriggled until she was completely topless, her robes in a pool about her in the bed.
And she never stopped kissing him- fingers expertly flicking open each button of his shirt.. lower and lower until she peeled it open and let cool hands smooth down the warm, rich muscles of his chest.

He wouldn't be able to remove his shirt completely, what with his arm in a sling, but he didn't stop her from opening his shirt and running her hands across his chest. Her touch sent shivers from the top of his head to the tips of his toes and all of him rose to meet her.

He pulled her against him, sighing heavily as her breasts pressed against him. If he had use of both hands he would have already laid her down, but now he was forced to be slower, more calculated with his movements.

He kept his hand around her waist while breaking the kiss and trailing his way down her throat and onto the tops of her breast, teasing both himself and her. But not for long, he couldn't stand it. She was right there, she was open and presenting herself to him.

His lips found her nipple and he devoured her, pinching and sucking and moaning.

Then he let go of her and reached down to adjust himself before tracing up her inner thighs and dancing around what he really wanted...what he hoped she really wanted.

She lay there with legs opened eagerly for him. And she couldn't help but assist him in loosening the front of his pants. His dick was already hard and the moment those pants were unlaced she saw his length slide out and she squirmed and tensed at the pleasure of seeing his sex. Gods, she had forgotten he was so well endowed. 
And her hands moved to touch him, caress him before gripping his shaft with a moan.

"Gods...Faraji.."

She continued to move her hand down his length- enjoying that warmth and hardness in her hands. Her hips were already rocking without entry- the very idea stirring up pleasurable anticipation, her sex pulsating as if already tasting his sex within her.

She moaned.
Then moved to coax him between her legs.

He stopped her, lifting his head up from her breasts and planting another passionate kiss on her lips. His hand traced the outline of her lower lips, teasing it open to feel her wetness on the tips of his fingers.

"Let me worship you." He whispered, kissing against her ear before slipping to kneel beside the bed while pulling her legs towards him, kissing her ankles, her knees, her inner thighs.

At first she was confused why he stopped her. Her body was stoked, burning.. needing him like a moth to a flame. And then he was before her and each kiss up her leg had her gasping, tensing and gripping at the bed sheets.

His fingers would have easily told the tale at how soaking wet she was.. She trembled at that, whimpering as her hand moved to run through his hair, gripping onto it as another coaxed him to her church. 

It was all the permission he needed and he let her guide him in between her legs and ran his tongue up through the center. She was so wet he was forced to pull his tongue through again, and again, each time reveling in the taste of her.

He called her name between pleasuring her with his tongue to remind her just how badly he also needed her. To remind himself that she was actually here and they were together.

His hand slid up her side to find her breast as he pushed himself deeper and explored all of her with his mouth. He entered her, then flicked his tongue up to find that spot that would make her scream. And repeated it, listening and responding to her every need.

If she called for him, told him not to stop, he would increase his speed until she exploded.

He would know exactly when he hit her sweet spot- for her fingers tensed and nearly ripped at his hair. The way his tongue lapped and went deep... exploring her and tasting her with need.

Her eyes rolled back into her brains.  She was too spun up not to cry out, words and all other thoughts had left her as he devoured her into screaming sin. She was rocking along with his minstrations before she dug fingernails into his skull and screamed out her pleasure as her sex spasmed and exploded all over his mouth.

Sweet merciful heavens did she come. And as she rode his tongue to her peak, she eventually collapsed into a rattled brain and contentment upon the bed.


"G-Gods.. Faraji..." hands raked through his hair as she squirmed in appreciation. "I'd almost forgotten about that wicked tongue of yours..." 

She felt the tenderness of desire stoke again. She moaned at the memories and in the after glow.

"Gods a man like you can make me believe in God. "

He rejoined her on the bed and laid down next to her while letting his hand trail up her side and begin tracing the lines of her breast. He was so hard from making her coming and seeing her writhe in pleasure that it was almost painful. He wanted to be inside her. He needed it.

But he wasn't going to take her. He needed to know she wanted him. So he felt her, let his hands cup her breasts and feel the weight of them. He flicked her nipple playfully and rolled it between his fingers.

"I'm just glad I can still make you make those noises," he said with a grin, "And I do love them..."

She moaned softly as he touched her, eyes fluttering closed. Then she beckoned him closer with a moving, crooked finger and once he obeyed she kissed his long and hotly upon the lips.

"Mmmm.. you taste like me," She chuckled, opening her eyes to look at him. Then she beckoned him further.


By then she had moved her position, eyes now intent on the snake between his legs.  And without warning, she moved her face down between his hips and began to kiss softly and lick him along his length. 

The feel of her against him, her kiss, made him moan against her lips and he was overcome to the point he thought he would explode. And then the kiss stopped and...

"Hakeshna!" He cried out as her lips touched him. He shuddered, his cock pulsed and got even harder if that was even possible. Her tongue, her breath, made him shudder and unconsciously thrust upwards in the hopes she would encompass him completely.

And she did. Her entire mouth opened and welcomed him inside, sucking and rolling her tongue along his length mercilessly. And she shoved him in deeper, deep as she could as she swallowed all around him and gripped onto his hips- urging him to fuck her in the mouth with need.

And he did. He couldn't help himself. She guided him, goaded him, and he thrust as she dipped. He cried out as she took him and he took her right back.

Until he found himself on the brink and he pulled himself away and reached for her to bring her back and kiss her again. He wasn't ready to release until he had her completely and she was so close to finishing him with her mouth.

"I need you. I need you." he growled.

And she looked at him, panting, face and body flush as she licked her lips.

"Then what are you waiting for? "And she moved to spread her legs easily. "Come take me. I'm yours."

His arm made moving cumbersome, but he managed to pull himself up far faster than he expected and slipped between her legs. He guided himself against her, letting her wetness prime him with a few surface thrusts before slipping inside with a cry.

"Ibra!"

And then he moved, first slowly and then with quickening need. He took her. Hakeshna he took her. Each thrust more uncontrolled than the last and he moaned as his climax grew.

He reached down with his thumb and rubbed her, coaxing her to come with him, and he continued to pound into her while holding back on his release until they could go together.

By the heavens should they be doing this? It's what got her into knocked up before.  And he didn't know. But by the books, did she need him.

Her mind and body were too hot and steamed. There wasn't time to think.. only to be. And heavens help her if she didn't scream and buck and encourage him as she felt his hands join in as her eyes rolled back into her head.

"Hakeshna's name... Faraji," She panted. "Fuck me! Claim me!  GOD'S ABOVE!" She bucked wildly at his minstrations, and reached  down to grab his hand before shoving his few fingers, as well as her own, inside her as he thrust. 

"Let me cum off your seed."

It was too much. He couldn't contain it anymore as she thrust her hips up against him in uncontrollable movements. He let out a throaty groan and then pushed into her as he released, filling her completely as he moaned and shuddered with a climax so large his vision swam.

Her fingers against him squeezed him tight and he found he couldn't stop the convulsions. It had been so long. Too long. And he poured every bit of him inside her.

They shouldn't. Really shouldn't have coupled this time of her phase. But as it were, she was flooded on the inside and she threw back her head and sang. She could feel the gush of his hot release fill her up and dribble out between their fingers, down her thighs and onto the bed as she rode him for all she was worth.

And the high made her spasm and shake as she moaned, utterly and completely satisfied. 

Gods how she revealed in this feel, his body so deep and fueled inside her that as she was coming off her tender high thsf it was stoked again- her sex pulsing as she began to move frantically to reach that second rush of bliss- moaning as they moved and spilled out seed.

"Gods.. Faraji..."

As she continued to move beneath him he couldn't help the moans that escaped his lips. He was still tender from his own climax and every trust was almost too much. But he guided her, urged her to that next release and pulled his fingers up to circle around her.

"Come for me," he commanded and applied more pressure and more speed.

It was actually a chore, the climax kept eluding her as she moved more and more with frantic need.

But then his words came and she gasped, melting into them as she kissed him fierce to muffle her scream into ecstasy.

He felt her squeeze and pulse around him and he was forced to pull himself away while still keeping his thumb in place and his lips encompassing her own as she screamed. His entire being was on fire. His entire existence became one with ecstasy. She was still his everything despite the years of estrangement. Every night since then he'd dreamed about her and let the bitterness grow and this...what they had just finished doing...was only part of the reason.

He kissed her forcefully and long after she had finished. He didn't want to stop. He wanted to taste her forever. He wanted...

"Marry me." He held her face in his hand and gazed intently into her eyes.

She was panting, body slick with sex and sweat. But as his words, something melted within her as she whimpered.

"Faraji.."

Her mind was clouded in heat and she was at a loss for a reply. She knew the answer, perhaps even expected this but now? Now that it finally came from his lips...


She laughed.

"Was that a command, Faraji?" She purred playfully, teasingly as she leaned forward to steal a sweet kiss. She hummed thoughtfully once she pulled away, eyes alight- eyes in love. "Although I suppose you don't have to ask as you've already predicted my answer. "

Her eyes sparkled.

"Because I can only say Yes."

"Not predicted, no," he said with a deep bass laugh that echoed from his core, "For you are anything but predictable. But I hoped." He pulled her close again and kissed her deeply.

"I love you, Ibra. I always have. You are my first and last love and no matter what happens with the Consul you will be my first wife and our children will inherit if it comes to that." He kissed her again. He didn't want to marry Saanvi, but he very well might not have a choice in the matter.

"I want to give you everything." He pulled the gold and emerald band from his slinged finger and pulled her hand forward to place it on her finger.

She couldn't help herself but smile, heart fluttering as the ring was slipped on. She admired it, then admired him and kissed him deeply. 

"You might have children sooner than you think.. with that much mess you put inside me, I'd be surprised you hadn't just cursed me with twins!"

He just smiled at that and pulled her into another kiss, hardly believing how the stars had aligned to bring them here. He knew Ibrahim, sometimes better than she knew herself, and without that wine and that flood none of this would have come to pass. It was as if Hakeshna had planned it all and brought them together.

The pre-wedding celebration hadn't been for Saanvi, it had been for her.

"Then let there be twins." He grinned and kissed down her chin and onto her neck, "And triplets, and summers filled with you round with child over and over again until the house is filled to bursting." He kissed her collarbone, "Because I'll never have enough of you, Ibra."

He brought his head down and ducked her breast again with a heavy sigh.

"You are the most beautiful woman in the world."

Her stomach did somersaults, her mind still coming down from the highs of passion for her to know any better. Did she really want that?

The pain of child birth sobered her as she lamented leaving their child behind in Serendipity.  A child he didn't even know existed.

How would he take the news? Sure, she knew he'd be happy.. likely insanely happy, but...
She had hidden away and stolen years he could have spent with his child. For that guilt she knew shame. She had been so hurt by everything and the pregnancy did a number on her psyche...

But maybe this time....


Did she want that? She supposed she'd find out, because as scholarly as she was- she knew well the cycles of a woman and...

Well, these past few days had been her peak.

"Do you aim to exhaust me?" She asked, lips twitching into a playful smile.

He hummed softly as he continued to play with her breasts, letting his tongue circle the most sensitive parts while using his hand to caress the other.

"Tell me to stop." He breathed her in, waiting for her command while kissing her a little harder. He would stop if she asked, but until then...

She released a soft noise of contentment.

"No.. I suppose I won't...."
She leaned into his touch, his tasting making her shiver. "It's been far too long, Faraji."

And she'd have him the whole day if they could.

He didn't respond to her comment. He didn't need to as his own wandering fingers and wicked tongue, as she had called it, answered for him. He continued to sample her but his need was becoming stronger and his hands slid down her stomach until he was able to feel her - still wet from before and getting wetter as he continued. His fingers combed through her and slipped inside.

His own desire grew as he felt her surround one, then two, then three...Hakeshna she made him rise. The feel of her...he kept his fingers in place while encasing her lips with his own in rekindled heat.

And then there was a soft knock on the door.

"My Lord." His manservant's voice broke through his desire like a hammer through glass. "I'm so sorry my Lord but...your mother is coming."

Oh...


Oh....

....oh.

Ibra squirmed beneath his attentions, her body growing hotter with each touch and finger added within. The sensations stoked her anew and she moaned and curled and shivered at his exploration.

And then a knock on the door had her growl.

"Is the door locked?" She asked him, coaxing him to continue. 

He let out a groan half from pleasure and half from knowing what he was about to do. He withdrew from her despite her coaxing and began the arduous process of one-handedly buttoning his shirt.

"It wouldn't matter." He explained with a shuddering breath to help calm down the excitement that had just started rising within him, "She'll find a way in and use this is as a reason to ruin you."

He hated that this was the life that Ibra was walking into - that his mother couldn't just accept that not all women liked to sit around and manage a household or raise children. He loved that Ibra spoke her mind, that by she was fully and unapologetically herself.

"Once we're married nothing on this Earth could stop me." Then he chuckled, "I will need some help with these..." he gestured to the singular button he had been able to only half do himself.

She sighed and tutted as she moved forward to help him with his buttons.

"I feel like we're just children trying to sneak around being naughty. Yet here we are.." she went on with a long sigh, studiously buttoning up his clothing as if she'd practice such things all her life. She looked up into his eyes as she finished the last one.

"Be strong, Faraji," She told him, cupping his face. "I know your mother can be terrible but.." she sighed. "She is your mother..."

Although, should blood truly matter so much when one was so consumed with playing chess with her family? She supposed it was the noble game... always looking for more and not caring who you let fall. 

"However did you turn out to become such a wonderful man?" She smiled at him, eyes shining with warmth over her usual cool demeanor. 

Faraji shuddered as her fingers brushed his skin as she worked on the buttons, but he was disciplined enough for it to not go any further. Once she was finished he worked to pull his pants back into place and wiped his hands on a hand towel before offering one to Ibra.

Then he proceeded to refill their cups in the hopes the spices would help disguise the smell of sweat and sex that covered them both. He adjusted his curls, running his fingers through them loosely with a quick shake to let them fall naturally around his face.

"I met a pretty incredibly woman years ago." He sat back in his chair, his newly brewed tea once again on his knee while the other waited for Ibra on the tray on the bedside table.

He took a sip, "My father also likes you," he winked.

Another sharp knock came on the door.

"Faraji?" The knob turned.

Ibra shot him a look.

"I always did like your father better," She told him before moving to smooth down her clothing best she could. She wasn't sure the tea's smell would be fragrant enough to hide what they'd done but.. they had little else in means of hiding their little bit of fun.

Even still, she was smiling despite herself and moved to fetch up her own cup of tea.

"It's open, mother." He invited her in as if she wasn't just going to barge in anyways. This was her house, as she saw it, and as such she was free to come and go as she saw fit. Ibra Koh'lesh clearly didn't need privacy or even the decency of a knock that then was followed by waiting for an actual invitation.

Faraji rolled his eyes at Ibra in response and then proceeded to lounge back in the chair nonchalantly as if he'd been doing nothing else since arriving.

"I heard you'd woken, dear." She nodded towards Ibra and immediately began pulling the curtains away from the window to allow bright golden beams to shine brightly into the room from the porch beyond. The bedrooms were typically on the second floor, but this guest suite happened to be on the first and was really more like a tiny apartment than merely a room. The door to the right of the bed lead to a sitting room and the door to the left it's own designated bathroom.

Faraji's family practically ran the city. People trusted their products and many insisted on the Achebe seal before distribution.

"Sunlight will help you grow stronger. I'm sure you'll be itching to return home once you've recovered. What a shock it all was! And Hakeshna truly blessed me when granting me Faraji - to brave such a storm to save you...!" She turned and brushed a stray hair out of Faraji's face and he gently batted her hand away.

Gods, everything she did was a display of power under the guise of hospitality. The true language of the upper class.

"Mother."

"Oh hush now Faraji. You should let the woman rest! I'll take it from here. You needn't have her interrupt your business - I know how much you favor it above all else." She turned towards Ibra with a sickeningly sweet smile, "You know, he spent half of his wedding party locked up in his office! He is so dedicated he needs to be reminded of his family and his wife."

"Mother." He tried again, more firmly. "Saanvi will not be my wife. Surely she spoke with you yesterday after we...discussed the situation."

She waved her hand and straightened the covers, "A small  quarrel is common—"

"No. Mother. It wasn't a quarrel. I will be marrying Ibra."

Hakalia froze, her perfectly placed mask faltering. He had caught her off guard. To say this in front of Ibra meant he had already spoken with her - she already knew and agreed. Her plans were failing.

"You..." she turned to Ibra, "You hate him."

Ibra remained poisd, cool and collected- as only she was capable. She seemed indifferent to the woman's attempt to steer the conversation, then the floundering soon after. Then when she turned her attention to her, she sighed and lifted her gaze from her tea.

"Hate is a rather crude word. After all I hadn't realized I had initially been deceived, it turns out you were to blame for ruining our relationship by setting up a union with your son and Saanvi while we were already so openly courting... although I must admit I'm ashamed I didn't sniff out the truth any sooner."

She stared away in thought. 

"Though I had been distracted.." came a softer reply, not really meant for any of them to hear. She waved her hand of it though. 

"But there's no use in hiding where the hate truly lies," She went on, lifting her tea for another sip.

"I have made no attempts to hide my disappointment that my son insists on choosing a woman below his station. No matter what you've seemingly done with your life does not change the fact that you have fallen from grace. You shouldn't even be able to show your face at social functions after the choices you've made with your life."

She looked at Faraji but still addressed Ibra, "Tell me. Does he know? Did you tell him?"

Faraji looked between the two women, flummoxed, "Mother, you are out of line. No matter what your feelings for her-"

"Quiet." She hissed in a manner so unlike the mother he knew that it caused his mouth to snap shut like a scolded child.

"She betrayed you, Faraji. I selected Saanvi for you the moment I found out. I picked someone worthy of this family."

"Ibra...what is she talking about?" He pleaded, feeling a wash of dread down his spine. His mother had never spoken like this before. She hated Ibra, yes, but this was a whole new level of abhorrence.

"Yes, Ibra. Tell him about the child. Please. About how you disgraced yourself but still planned to take advantage of him."

No words came. Faraji just stared, open mouthed, between the two of them. It had to be a lie didn't it?

Ibra visibly tensed- a statue could not poise any stiffer than she. There was such a violent storm that surged within her eyes the moment his mother spoke about her child.


Or rather their child that Faraji had no idea about. How had this wretch of a woman known!? She had been fully ready to accept the responsibility with Faraji- to let him know he'd be a father.. they'd start a family...

So she was in no right state of mind when the engagement was pubically announced. Infact, she had been sick all week, refusing to see even Faraji as she waited to have her suspicions confirmed...


And then her world spiraled, out of her control. 


Her hands clenched into fists. Slowly, she rose from where she sat upon the bed, her head held high but her gaze boiling down upon that wretch of a woman. And something snapped- and before Ibra coudl think better of it- she struck the woman hard, across the face in one, cold slap.

"You will never speak about me, my child nor Faraji's position in this so reprehensibly ever again. The truth was never yours to know but since you cowed it out of me, yes I left. Yes, I was with child and no.. it was not to take advantage of your son. " with a heated gaze she turned to Faraji.

"I wasn't in a good place when I received the news.. I had been sick for weeks.. almost a month.. the priestesses confirmed and exactly 7 months after I fled here I gave birth to your son."

Faraji felt like a giant bucket of ice water had fallen over his head and left him frozen to his seat; frozen in his gaping stare. He felt like a fish caught between a fisher's net or a fisher's hook and he didn't know which one would ultimately eat him.

Ibra had struck his mother. He had been half on his feet to intervene when this...and now he stood. He was unable to make a decision. Unable form a coherent thought.

And so he laughed.

"This is...this is a joke." But he knew it wasn't. It couldn't be. He had barely seen her those weeks before her disappearance. She had been ill...so ill...ill enough that he had gone to his mother to beseech the temple on his behalf because he had been swamped with work.

The temple where the priestesses would have know that she...that...

"Oh Hakeshna..."

"Faraji." His mother took his cold hand and attempted to soothe him. He shook it off.

"Leave." His voice was so quiet it was almost inaudible.

"Faraji, surely you know I acted in your best interest."

He finally looked into her eyes and she must have seen something in that that stopped her in her tracks. She opened and closed her mouth a few times before bowing towards her son and fleeing from the room.

Ibra had a child. Ibra had a son.

He walked over to the balcony door and opened it to let the fresh morning air wash over him. And he just stood there.

I gave birth to your son.

Dred coiled in her belly like an ice cold snake, it's venom rotting through her veins as she watched Faraji move towards the balcony. She knew she had been in the wrong, part of her knew it was selfish to remain so angry and to keep something so precious- a true treasure that was the wonder od their son, a secret from his father. 

She had tried so many times to pen him..to write to him.. explain her pain to atleast let him know...

But each time the pen got heavier to lift, and she would have rather not bared such a weight.

So she did not feel it was her place to console him. For wasn't she as wicked as his mother? Shame kept her beside the table, but love kept her from simply fleeing. And that stoney pride of hers. 

So she gave him his space- while hoping he wouldn't look back at her too swiftly because tears wet her eyes and it stung her numbly to even be there in his presence. 

The words were left, choked before her tongue 

No..

I'm sorry would never be enough.

Faraji didn't know how long he stood there. It was as if time had looped around him as he cycled through every range of emotion twice...three times...

Shock. Surprise. Anger. Joy. But it always came back to anger. But it was more than anger. But it wasn't rage either. It was the feeling that comes after betrayal, that consumes every part of yourself but is also laced with an unquenchable sorrow.

"What is his name?" He asked after a time, not turning to face her, keeping his eyes firmly on the horizon where the sun continued to rise. He couldn't look at her. He couldn't...

Ibra just let him be. He needed time more than anything and she wasn't sure she felt she deserved to be the comfort he likely needed. 

"Faisal..." she replied. She thought back to her son and felt her own pride twist with the guilt she'd been burdened with for years.

"Faisal." He repeated, voice cracking while tears filled his eyes. He didn't know what to do. No one had prepared him for a moment like this. No one had told him that one day his entire life would be ripped from him and scattered like ashes over the Niafi.

How did he come back from this? How did he move on from this?

He cleared his throat and controlled himself.

"Where is he now? Does he...does he even know I exist?" That damn emotion crept back into his voice and he tried desperately to blink away the tears that welled - unsuccessfully as a few escaped and slid down his cheek.

Ibra remained where she stood, poised, statuesque- and blinked away the damned tears that burned her eyes.

"In Serendipity," she replied, keeping her voice as even as she could. 

She paused to consider his next question but nodded- even though he could not see.

"He knows his father lives in Essryn."

What could he do? What could he say? Hers wasn't the answer he was hoping for. Knowing where Faraji lived didn't mean he knew who his father was. Had she kept that from him, too? Was her whole life a dark hole of secrets.

Anger welled in his heart, but it was unseemly to show it. She had wronged him. She had wronged their son. She had wronged them. Aggressive displays of emotion wouldn't solve any of those problems. But, perhaps, logic and reason would. Logic and reason were the names of business and...for now...that was all he could handle.

He ran a hand down his face to dash away the water that remained and then straightened his clothes before turning around, stoic, still, a businessman in the midst of a deal.

"I would like to meet him. If you agree."

She stiffened at that- but should have expected it. He deserved to meet his child.

"He will be in Essryn within the month-" She went on, swallowing back down any emotion. It was hard, and it hurt- but with the bandaid ripped off in such a way...

She had wanted to do this when they were in a better place. Things had not progressed as she had expected and with Faraji confessing so much...

Well.. she'd put herself under his judgement now. This was her mistake and she would accept those consequences , even as they broke her heart. 

Faraji saw her stiffen at his request and felt his mask breaking around him. His chest felt tight and it took all of his self control to keep from completely lashing out. But the businessman was gone as quickly as he was summoned.

"Why?" His voice was quiet, pleading, "Do you want to keep him for me still? Are you that worried I'll be a terrible father? Or be like my mother? Or do you just hate me so much that even this morning, the words we exchanged, the promises made, mean nothing? Would you hide this forever?"

He found that as he spoke he couldn't stop. He wasn't in control of his own tongue.

Ibra flinched. 

"No.. of course not.. Faraji.. I.." she sighed, trying to find the right words.  "Keeping him from you at all was a mistake. At first I was pregnant.. angry.. over emotional and irrational but I can't fix what my past self did. Then after I had him.... I wanted to yell you.. i tried to write the words but...well, I wasn't in much of a better place either. I.. feared I was turning into my father in his wasting years..."

She frowned.

"I know it's not the response you want to hear but you do deserve the truth. Today... what had happened... I hadn't expected any of this. And now... now I only regret everything I had done." She kept herself collected best she could but her eyes still reflected the threat of more tears. 

"I don't deserve to ask for forgiveness but please believe me when I was meaning to tell you. Even had we not gotten together.. I came back because of this. I couldn't keep living with the guilt and knew I had to tell you.. whether you had become married or not."


She paused, looking at him with her unwavering grace and only the look a defeated lover could show.

"But I am sorry, Faraji. For being so week and keeping him from you for years."

"I don't...I don't know if I can forgive you." He said quietly, moving back to sit in the chair by the bed and running a hand through his dark curls. His words felt clunky, even to him. He had never been one for anything other than eloquence and now?

But what more could he do but be honest?

And then he chuckled and his eyes dropped to where his hands now rested in his lap. He couldn't meet her eyes. It would be his undoing.

"I love you, Ibra. But I...how do I trust you after this. Which is odd because, at the same time, I trust that what you're telling me is true. That he...that Faisal...is indeed mine. I know it. Whatever my mother claims."

She just remained where she was. She gave him his time, his space and let him speak his words. She digested all of that with as much grace as she could muster and gave a bitter smile as she thought about the past years- wasted and in vain.

"Personally, if I were you and you were me, I'd string me up and throw me off a cliff side," she said approaching the window yet giving him his space, not daring to step into his full line of sight.

But she was always less forgiving than he.

"But I won't keep him from you. I wasn't intending to any longer." She paused a moment, considering her next words. 

"You don't have to believe me. But when you see him... he is the sweetest child that ever was- and has every feature about you that I adore."

There was no denying it- from his mop of curly hair and bright eyes, even to the way he smiled and laughed.

Faraji took a long, deep breath and rested his head in his hands, letting his fingers entangle themselves with his hair as he closed his eyes and just existed. He had always wanted a family. He had wanted children, wanted to be a father, to hold their hands as they learned to walk, to read books as they grew, to teach them how to get into trouble while being safe.

But Faisal didn't know him. He had missed all of those moments that he had dreamed. He was going to meet his son as a stranger and have to explain why he wasn't in his life.

Could he throw Ibra to the wolves with that? Was it fair to him to make him think less of his mother - the only parent he'd known up until this point? But what could he say if not the truth?

"Ibra...what if he is scared of me. I'm a stranger...how...how is this going to work...how is any of this going to work..."

She blinked.

That.. was not what she had expected. She was waiting for hate, to be tossed outside of his home and from his life forever..

But this?

Truly? He feared his own son rejecting him.  And how her heart poured out to him. Despite herself, she moved closer, wanting to hold him but not daring. He still needed his space.

"Faraji.... I... your son... he wants to meet you." Shr lifted her hand, moving to unwind a colorful series of twisting, braided strings. She held it up, offering it out to him.

"Faisal made this for you. He.. knew when he'd come to Essryn you would meet. He even made you a doll. I have it in my chest back home. I.. will bring that to you tomorrow."

She paused, drawing in a deep breath.

"He's.. so smart and mature for his age. He... he's so warm and kind.. just like you. So friendly to all... " she choked up, unable to continue the words.

"The beads mean peace..." she said softly, pointing them out within the twisting threads. "And love... he chose them.. for you. And the colors.. the colors of the desert of Essryn."

Faraji stared at the piece in Ibra's hand and felt a fist close around his throat that made anything other than passively sitting a dangerous task for keeping the tears back inside of himself. His son was coming. His son whom Ibra had named after his father. His son who had to be four now at least, possibly turning five soon – though his brain wasn't doing proper thinking to know for sure.

He was angry with Ibra. A part of him was sympathetic to how she must have been feeling, but she had fled without so much as giving him the chance to explain. When it had just been her, he was more likely to believe he had needed to try harder, but she took his son with her. What was worse was she had hidden him for years.

Could he forgive her?

She had accepted his proposal without telling him. Did that change how he felt about wanting to marry her? Did he want to be with her solely so he didn't lose his son again? Or did he want to marry her because he wanted her.

Hakeshna, he didn't know. It was too much. Too soon. He needed time to think, time to breathe, time to process...

But Faisal was on his way. He would be here in far less time than it would take if he hadn't already been on the road. Ibra had already started bringing him home before any of this had happened, before his mother had stolen the ability for her to tell him on her own.

He reached out and took the gift and held it carefully in his hands, letting one finger trace the twists, spin the beads, and then, carefully, wrapped it around his own wrist. He would wear it until it became too threadbare to exist any longer. Just like the ring that now encircled Ibra's finger, this would encircle him.

"Thank you." He still didn't meet her eyes.

That's when she placed the ring upon the table.

It felt too much like lead, the guilt wearing raw and sitting sickly inside of her.

"This.. isn't a rejection from me," she told him, hesitating over the words. "I don't find it fair it was accepted before.. revealing Faisal to you. Our reunion was... not expected and I realize I am in no better a position mentally than I was before." She sighed, the weight of it all was too heavy but she understood that raw pain too well.

And she wasn't going to be proud about it. It was her lowest point and she had no idea how to get over it. But pulling Faraji down wasn't it.

"Offer it to me again only it it's still sincere. If it's still because you could love a woman like me that truly and not because you feel compelled because of our child. Faisal.. will love you regardless."

This she knew.  Their son was far too pure for anything but.

A part inside of him broke when the ring touched the table and he found himself, for the first time, looking over at her. If he didn't say anything she would be gone. She would walk out of this room and, quite possibly, out of his life.

In that moment he realized this wasn't what he wanted. Despite the shock and hurt that was tearing through him, he didn't want her to leave. He didn't want...

"Ibra." He stood and crossed the distance between them with sorrow still etched on his forehead and by the sides of his mouth, "I don't want this." He picked up the ring and put it back in her hand, "I don't want to go our separate ways and hope that maybe in another five years one of us will stumble across the other because of a little too much wine." He rested his hand across her cheek.

"I want to make this work. I...as angry as I am, I...losing you will make it worse. So stay. Stay and fight with me."

Ibra stiffened upon his return, eyes meeting his but not letting that connection go. If he wanted to look into her eyes and truly see....

By the words...

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she accepted the ring and rested a hand over his upon her cheek. She didn't turn away, but stared into those pained, impassioned depths. 

"I only spoke truth in all my confessions," she told him. "I would never reject your love. If you truly want this.. than yes.. I will always fight with you for this love."

He felt hot tears burning in his eyes as she spoke and as he saw her own fall down her cheeks. He was still angry. So angry. He would be angry for a long time and his trust in her was completely shattered but...he wanted to work through it.

"You stupid, stupid woman." He said with an odd mix of fondness and annoyance. His thumb swiped a tear away and he leaned forward to touch his head against hers.

"Why didn't you see me? Why did you leave? I would have dropped everything for you...for our...for our family."

Ibra felt her strength betray her as her vision blurred with hot tears and her lips trembled.

"I couldn't stop myself," she Whispered. "I was so blindingly angered, so heart broken I... I didn't even feel like myself. I was so wretchedly emotional..." she blinked back her tears, but they fell anyway. "Something inside me broke. And our son was rhe only thing that kept me from becoming a greater fool."

"Just...don't leave again." He said quietly. "I...can't promise I won't be angry...I won't promise that. I can't. But...but I choose you. I want you."

And he was honestly surprised that he meant it. Truly meant it. It didn't change the hurt or the betrayal. But that was love, wasn't it? Love was a choice when things were hard. Love was wanting to work through difficulties.

And he did love her.

And she responded on the only means she could.  She wrapped her arms around him and held him fierce and tight. She buried her face into his shoulder and just held him, smelled his scents and felt his warmth.

"I will never break this oath to you," she Whispered softly, and just let the tears fall. 

He held her tightly, not realizing until this moment that in all the turmoil, in all the pain that she had caused, he had just wanted to feel her. Her presence was comforting despite the fact it was also the cause. He believed she was sorry just as he believed Faisal was his son.

Relationships weren't perfect. He would make mistakes, too - maybe not of this caliber - but mistakes she would need to forgive just the same. Hell, he had already made the mistake of not chasing after her. He hadn't even really tried because he was afraid of facing the rejection that spilled from that congratulatory letter...their last correspondence.

So for now he just held her. He let himself exist with her. He let himself begin to at least imagine their future where all was forgiven.

And that's what he wanted. As long as she was patient, as long as she would wait for that trust to rebuild, he would have her.

Ibra held onto him and would continue to for all eternity. Thank the heavens they'd have this moment alone. Had things progressed differently.. she feared she'd have lost it- and likely him. 

"I do love you, Faraji. " she nestled in, allowing herself this vulnerability. "And I will make up my mistakes to you.. in time."

He kissed the top of her head and then held her for a few more moments before pulling away. His good hand brushed away a stray strand of hair and he smiled - a sad smile because the hurt was still raw, but a smile nonetheless.

"I'll hold you to it." He promised, "but first, breakfast and being presentable takes precedence. I'll have a bath drawn for you - that door over there - and have a meal prepared. We can share it on the veranda if you are up for it?"

He also needed to bathe. It had been a long wait by her bedside, not to mention the fun they'd had.

She smiled at him tiredly.
"A bath and something to eat sounds lovely. " Although she wasn't sure how much she could keep down... she could feel her body's need for sustenance. She had done a number herself to combat the flood and was still reeling on those after effects- after all, such power came at a cost. Making sands dance in intricate patterns by the winds was one thing, it took a lot of a specific kind of concentration. But to harness the full power of the winds enough to part waters?

She felt like whe could sleep for another week.

"And if it's.. not too much trouble, I might need more medicines when we eat."

Any bit of help would be welcomed. By the books... to think of all she'd awaken unto....
Faraji and her were reunited and now he knew about Faisal...
For that, she felt some of the weight she had been carried lifted.  

A little at a time, maybe she'd begin to feel like her true self again.

"Of course." He replied into her hair, holding her tightly one last time before breaking the embrace and turning towards the door where he knew more servants would be waiting for the bell, or for him in person.

"A bath, please. And a hearty breakfast - focus on items for healing and strength." They bowed and bobbed appropriately before bustling off. Faraji caught one of the women's arms, "And new linens. No one likes to rest in a bed smelling of sick."

She nodded and things were set in motion. The bath was drawn and scented with healing herbs and oils, a host of women waited upon Ibra to bring her whatever she needed and were ready to massage her feet and wash her hair - she didn't need to lift a finger if she didn't need to.

And so Faraji left her to go and take care of his own needs, in his own rooms, and allowed his men to help wash away the trials and tribulations of the last few days.

He passed his mother. And said nothing.

Ibra could have stayed forever in the bath.  The waters couldn't be hot enough as she stretched out and  closed her eyes. She wasn't sure how long she had fallen asleep, but something caused her to awaken- and her eyes snapped open- and she narrowly dodged the glint of a knife as it struck towards her throat.

The figure moved quickly, swiping again- and the woman was barely able to guard herself, the blade connecting with her arm as she all but stumbled from the bath.

The damn figure moved quickly- dressed plainly but robed and covered- head to toe. She could see the blood scattering the floor from the large gash on her arm and cursed as she considered her options and backed away from the damn assassin.

Clearly they knew who their target was, and they must have been following her for quite sometime. She cursed and reached for the bottle of oils nearest her and hurled them at the damn assassins head before scrambling towards the other end of the room.

The servants heard the commotion as they were stationed just outside of the washroom door. They allowed Ibra her privacy as she soaked but were ready for the moment she called for them with fluffy towels draped across their arms - many towels as they had noted the length of her hair and were prepared for it.

At first they thought she might have slipped - they knew it was within Ibra's personality to get out of the tub without calling for assistance - so they were there, in the room, only moments after the bottles began to fly. And they were confused. What were they seeing?

Oh Hakeshna!

One was out of the room and down the hall sounding the alarm while another threw a towel around Ibra to encompass her in a desperate attempt to provide some sort of cover from the hooded figure.

The robed figure realized their stealth was compromised and fetched something from their pocket, then smashed it into the ground. A puff of smoke flared up, obscuring their view. 

Ibra coughed, not expecting that and realized that- if she couldn't see- neither could the assassin- and presuming- correctly- that the damn assassin would have one final move to try and off her, Ibra threw herself to the ground just as she heard something sink into the wall above her.


As the smoke cleared, Ibra noted the figure was gone- and the wall behind her was bubbling with some kind of unseen liquid that ran in lines from a dart that sunk into the wall. She paled- realizing how close she had come to being killed and continued to press her hand upon her arm wound.  Thankfully, the servants had not been targeted and aside from the terror in their eyes, they were okay.

Faraji had been ready for awhile, just waiting for the servants to inform him Ibra was finished. He didn't fault her for taking her time, in fact he was glad for the elongated time to be alone and think.

He was freshly cleansed, his shoulder re-wrapped and re-slinged to match the day-attire he had chosen. The heat of the day would be upon them, as it always was, so he had opted for the shirtless style with a plethora of cuffs and other pieces of jewelry adorning his arms, wrists, and neck. The oils used in his hair was making it fall in perfect ringlets around his face with just a few well placed braids to sweep the less obedient strands out of his face. The servants had even woven intricate beads and cuffs of gold into his hair and he looked like a prince.

Which he basically was in Essryn. Merchant Prince and all that. And the amount of money his little empire brought in daily was justification enough for his status in the world.

At first he tried to work, but his brain wasn't in the right place for that to be feasible. As much as his mother thought he was married to his ledgers, but it had been an escape more than anything else. Now he didn't want the escape.

No...he did but the little bracelet made by his son kept catching his attention and drawing him away.

Hakeshna he had a son...he had a son.

He ran a hand across his face as he tried to imagine what this first meeting would be like. How should he act? What should he expect? He wasn't green when it came to children, his sisters already had a brood of their own and he saw them often. He doted on his nieces and nephews but that was so different than having one of your own. A firstborn son. A son who, maybe one day, would inherit everything.

A sharp knock brought him out of his thoughts, and he was forced to lift his head from where it rested on his arm against the railing of his veranda.

He sighed, expecting it to once again be his mother begging an audience.

"My Lord!" His manservant hadn't even waited to be invited in before opening the door himself, eyes wide and panicked.

"What is it, Kasim?" Faraji asked, not even halfway across the room. He could see the fear in his eyes.

"It's Ibra. She's been attacked."

Faraji's blood ran cold and then he was running, Kasim close behind quickly relaying information as they moved.

By the time he'd arrive, Ibra had everything under control. Her arm that'd be slashed was tightly wound in a make shift bandage with one of the towels. Her body was prudently (and somehow even a little ornately) wrapped with towels, she wearing it as if it were just another outfit in her wardrobe.

The guards that had arrived before Faraji were inspecting all areas the assassin may have used to enter the place and paying careful attention to any shreds of evidence. 

A servant turned scribe waking taking down short hand notes as Ibra recounted the event, sighing as the only decent information she could reveal was that the would be assassin had pale colored eyes and had to have been barely a few inches over five feet tall. Other than that, nothing really stood out as rather remarkable- and the servant was scribbling down those thoughts. 

"Ibra!" Faraji would have burst through the door if it had been closed, but it wasn't. There were so many people going in and out, mostly panicked servants and stoic guards with grim expressions. Most of the latter were in the washroom speaking in hushed voices while examining the wall and the window.

It was easy to get into her room seeing as it was on the first floor, but the attacker still needed to get into the estate first. And without being caught.

"Thank Hakeshna you're ok." He fell to his knees before her, and took her hands in his own.

Ibra nodded at Faraji, squeezing his hand in reassurance.

"Yes," she sighed, feeling the weight of the event pulling at her fatigue.  "It seems I was the target " she frowned , observing him to ensure he hasn't a scratch upon him. "You are safe as well?" 

It was in that moment that Hakalia burst in, face pale but expression set and determined. Faisal, Faraji's father, was close behind. To her credit, his mother treated the situation with the seriousness it deserved despite her personal feelings. She began instructing the servants to retrieve proper clothing for their guest and began barking orders for her to be moved to another room.

Faraji squeezed her hand and, without breaking eye contact, instructed his mother, "No. The adjacent room in my living quarters."

Even then, Hakalia did nothing more than pause, exchange a glance with her husband who nodded curtly, and then began the preparations.

"I hope that is ok." He reached up and pushed her hair behind her ear, "It's easier to protect and harder to get to." And it was right by his side. He was trained well enough to be able to protect her should it come to that. You didn't just travel the world for trade and not become good at that kind of thing. There were a lot of people who wanted him and his family dead. You couldn't always trust that others would always succeed in ensuring your own protection.

She smiled at him, admirably. 
"If you believe it suitable... I am your guest, after all."

She was thankful the entire place was under alarm... however... it was unnerving someone would try and assassinate her here of all places. She tried not to show it had rattled her as she observed Faraji.

"Was no one else attacked?"
She needed to make sure she had been the target and it wasn't just as assault against his family and she was the next best target.

Faraji shook his head and looked around to see others doing the same. No one else had been attacked...just her...but why?

"Come with me, please." He took both of her hands and stood up, urging her to follow with a gentle pull on her arms, "I'll show you the way. It's different than the last time you were here. I have the entire east wing now. For my family. You'll be safe there. It's fully guarded."

She followed along, guided at his side but raised a hand to her lips. "The entire wing?"
His entire palace was enviable, her own home, though well off, no where near as grand.

She nodded at the remark on the guards and wondered if, when Faisal arrived, it might not be wiser to keep him here. She had initially intended him to stay with her parents who.. also, would only be meeting their grandson for the first time.

He nodded, keeping his arm around her as they walked. It wasn't exactly close to the guest room, but it also wasn't across the entire estate.

"Yes. It was built for the heir and, well, that's me I guess. I've been slowly taking over for my father these past few years. Sometimes traveling, often delegating trade to others. Lots of meetings."

A handful of servants bustled past them with linens and food as they hurried to prepare a place for Ibra. They approached large, ornately carved doors that were opened by two guards which marked the entrance to Faraji's corner of the palace.

"You should know." He stopped in the main foyer just before a grand staircase, "The rooms you're being given are intended for my wife. My staff is loyal, but I can't expect you living there to remain a secret for long..." he held her hand in his own, running his fingers along her knuckles while gazing at her fingers, her wrist. Even dressed in towels she was stunning.

"I don't know what I would have done if you weren't ok." He admitted softly.

At rhe last comment, her legs all but stopped. She, infact, almost stumbled into him.

"Faraji.. surely you're not asking me to stay permanently?" Yes.. she wore the ring now.. yes she had already given him an heir...
But the pair were hardly married.

She had assumed this little escort was temporary- her mind had not fully grasped the full idea and nature of being married. And part of her faltered under that...

It was one reason she was never so presumptuous with Faraji before- because marrying entailed a loss of the power and freedom she enjoyed over the years..

But in their society...
A wife was just that. A wife. And Ibra, for the life of her, knew that it might very well destroy all that she was if she were forced to actually play the role. She loved Faraji, would die for the man.. however..
It didn't mean she still didn't have those fears that had been brewing within her for most of her life.

He frowned at her for a moment, weighing the words unspoken that were clear behind her tone, behind her expression.

"If they were able to get past our guards," he answered slowly, "You won't be safe in your home. This is the best place for you to be if there are assassins out with your name." Surely she understood that? Surely she wasn't so stubborn that she would put herself in danger because of propriety.

He added quietly, "But...that's not what you're concerned about, is it?"

"Let's... talk once we're settled," she told him, her frown deepening. "Its.. been too long of a day already and I'm still not fully recovered from the flood."

"Ok." He agreed, frowning back and breaking contact with her. His skin felt cold as he felt the rejection that was coming inch its way up into his chest.

He stepped away from her as if in a trance and gestured towards the staircase, "It's this way. You can rest for as long as you want, as long as you need." He began walking, expecting that she would follow and listening for any signs of distress.

He paused halfway up the stairs, "You're not trapped here, you know. I've never wanted to cage or restrain you."

She moved to take his arm suddenly, then surprised herself when she wrapped her arms around him tightly. 

"Faraji.." she spoke his name softly. "I know you.. I know you're heart." She smiled into his eyes. "It's why I always knew it had to be you. Above all else, I knew you were my fated love."

He sighed, hesitating a moment before pulling her close, smelling her newly cleansed skin and oiled hair. Then he broke it off, still unable to shake the feeling that, after everything, this would be the only time he would find her here in his family home. Despite everything he knew he would always want her, but it was she that he felt would leave, would itch at the title "wife."

Was this why his mother was so set against her? That she was her own woman and would never be the full definition of wife to him?

Was he truly ok with that? Because it was who she was, it was who he loved, but...sometimes love just wasn't enough. Was this one of those times?

"Come." He pressed his hand on her lower back to continue the pilgrimage through his home and towards the vast bedroom that she would be able to call her own. At least for a time. "There are guards at every door. There are no pieces of architecture that can assist climbing of any kind. We will place additional guards around you to ensure your safety."

She nodded at that.

"I apologize for all this. But I suppose I was fooling myself into hoping our reunion would remain blissful. But I suppose nothing in life comes without  a cost."

She squeezed his hand as he guided her.

Not to mention the layers of mistakes she had made.

He raised an eyebrow at that.

"You showed up, drunk, to my pre-wedding celebration and then we were caught in a flash flood that nearly killed you to keep calm enough for us to get away. You think that makes for a calm reunion?"

At that, she actually smiled.
"I.. was more or less referring to the reunion of out hearts. But I suppose our entire road is bumpy."

She leaned in closer to him as she walked, sighing happily.

"I don't know if I deserve you.. but I'm glad to love you. "

He chuckled at that and just shook his head. Hearts reunion indeed. If she had had her way, there wouldn't have been a reunion until she decided to bring Faisal to him in however many weeks that would have ended up being. Assuming she wouldn't have lost her nerve.

He pushed down the rising dread and cold grip of anger that rose when he thought about it. What ifs wouldn't help anyone and it certainly wouldn't help them. Whether she would have or wouldn't have didn't matter as much as the fact that she did and now he knew.

"Come." He murmured again, "Right through here."

The door he opened was elaborately carved and inlaid with precious stones in a rainbow of colors. It depicted family, sunsets, and even a myriad of dessert flowers all intricately designed in a flowing river of color and perfectly cured woods. Then, beyond, was a large room.

No, not just a room, but an entire house for most people. There was a receiving area where guests could lounge during visits, immaculate stations of crystal clear water for cleansing hands and feet all scented with flowers and oils to moisturize and lift spirits. Lush rugs adorned the floor, and two doors to the left would lead to the bedroom and washroom while the singular door lead directly into Faraji's suite.

She was used to such extravagance... but Faraji's family always seemed a step above the rest. Granted, a lot of her family's wealth was shared between houses in both Essryn and Serendipity.

She stared around the place, scrutinizing before looking towards Faraji.

"I suppose it looks acceptable enough for my safety." But though her tone seemed critical, there was a playfully small smile upon her lips.

"Your family has always done well, Faraji," she then added with a sigh. She was so tired and the attempt at her life hardly helped. 

Faraji didn't even flinch at her supposed critical eye at her current lodgings. He was from this world, it made sense to him that she would be critical especially considering the life and death nature of their current situation.

He could also sense her exhaustion and leaned over to plant a gentle kiss on her forehead, "Rest. The rope by your bed will call the servants. Guards are at the door. That one," he pointed to their right, "will bring you directly to my quarters. You are welcome, when you want."

Sighing, she turned to him, giving him a curt nod before he'd find himself in an embrace.  She held him tightly, saying nothing as she gave him a tight squeeze , then pulled away.

Would they ever have a moment of peace?

"I should rest," she went on. "But to be honest I'm not sure I'll be able to."

There was far too much on her mind, on her plate- and now- with this attempt at her life- only added another layer.

"Are there like.. taxes or documents of yours I could check through? Something to distract me?"

Faraji's insides squirmed as she requested to look at his estates documents, but his face remained passive with a small smile hinting at the corners of his lips. Sharing that kind of information just wasn't done. It didn't matter how trusted a friend or a lover, they weren't married, and she wasn't exactly in a position of trust with him anyways.

No. Hakeshna, no he would not share those kinds of information with anyone unless there was a binding contract in place and years of working up the ranks to earn that spot. That kind of information would be enough to ruin you in the wrong hands.

Was Ibra a spy? Would she take that information and run with it to better the lives of herself and her son? It would certainly be easier for her than marriage.

"Oh, no, do not trouble yourself with such trivial matters. I handle all of that myself. I will send the servants with books that you can select from - a wide variety so you have something to choose."

He smiled warmly, hiding his ever-growing unease and kissed her on her forehead, "Try to rest."

And then he left her through the door to his own living area of his palace.

Ibra was so stuck inside her own mind she hadn't even considered the taboo of her request. Honestly, those types of paper work kept her engaged enough she typically dissociated as she worked.  And she desperately wanted to dissociate from life. 

So much had happened that it was a lot to swallow down. She could understand why others drank- her own results, however, reminding her of it's vice so she had steered away from asking.

So when she was left to her own devices, she told the servants she needed paper- ink and a quill- and to be sure to bring her lots of it. And soon the writing desk began to fill with countless notes the woman began to furiously scribble down- not even a lick concerned her hands were stained in ink.

Faraji closed the door behind him, a picture of decorum, until the moment the latch clicked and he leaned back with an exhausted sigh and closed his eyes while taking purposeful breaths in through his nose and out his mouth. So much had happened in the last few days it was hard to keep track of it anymore. He had found Ibra. He was being sued by Saanvi. He had a son. Someone had broken into his home and tried to murder Ibra.

Oddly enough, and maybe it was because he was still angry with her for this secret she had kept from him, he was less concerned for her safety and more concerned that someone had managed to get past all of the guards and into the central areas of the home. What was more concerning was the fact that they had known where she was. Her staying hadn't been pre-planned, it wasn't something that had gone through numerous ears so it could escape random mouths....no....this assassin had known exactly where she would be on limited information...

Someone in the house was to blame. Someone had told someone where she was. Someone had made sure the guards would be busy or knew of some blind spot that was seemingly built into their system.

He just wanted to rest.

Since Ibra had fallen ill, he had only gotten a few fitful bits of sleep here and there. Even his stomach was rumbling loudly in protest to how he'd treated his body.

But he couldn't sleep.

Instead, he sat at his desk, put his ledgers aside, and began calling servants in one at a time to question them. After the first interview his father had joined him and together they asked the same questions over and over. They shared glances, wrote notes, and began putting together the intricate puzzle to determine where their house had failed so terribly.

She wouldn't be able to sleep after the events of the day. To think.. she'd be reunited with Faraji, only for their reunion to be curdled by his mother.

No..

No that wasn't fair. She was as much to blame for this. By with holding the knowledge about his son....
She raked a hand through her hair, completely exasperated before she gave up completely over her notes and thoughts and moved to leave her room. 

She felt suffocated, and impotent- wishing she could go back in time to fix her mistakes - to warn her past self not to fall prey to her emotions. But it was too little too late- and as she strolled down the hall- servants and guards immediately began to form in lines around her. 

That only serves to further grate on her irritation as she tried to shoo them off, but was ignored. They atleast offered her some distance when she almost struck a servant with her over animated flailing arms. But even that small victory left her utterly exhausted and she wasn't even sure she made the right choice in this matter-


What had she been thinking? Why was she making so many damned mistakes? She felt like she was breaking all over again and eventually turned tail and stalked back towards her room- by now- there being quite there large, and now noisy, entourage in tow.

Faraji was exhausted. He had barely slept the night before and despite having time earlier that morning to wash, he didn't feel rested. His mind was moving quickly while his limbs felt like rocks had been tied to them and were dragging him down to the floor; holding him in place. More than once his father urged him to postpone the interrogations and rest, but Faraji refused. The people who had infiltrated their house wouldn't rest.

And it wasn't like this was entirely about Ibra, though it certainly played a large part, this was about his home. This was about his own sense of safety and the safety of those who lived and worked here. If one member of the household was compromised to this degree that meant no one was safe.

He ran his hand across his face and stared at the pages and pages of names and testimony.

"We need to see her again." His father pointed to the name of one of the housemaids. She was young, maybe Saanvi's age, and her husband had been killed not long ago leaving her with a toddler and another child on the way. She had been working for them for just over a year and was one of the newer hires on the premises. Most of the time people saw her red-eyed and crying, but she was a good worker.

Yet...today she had been almost stony. And her hands had been shaking. Not to mention others had noticed her hovering around passages that were outside the scope of her position. Faraji did not think she was evil but....her situation made her a perfect candidate for blackmail.

Faraji nodded and was about to speak when his manservant entered, bowed, and whispered in his ear.

Ibra was out.

"Father, excuse me." Her tipped his head respectfully towards his father and then stood from the table.

"Rest, Faraji." His father urged again, but his son just waived him off absently as he crossed the room towards the hallway. Even from inside he could hear the bustle of servants and guards outside, along with the rich tones of Ibra's voice.

He opened the door and slipped into the hall, just as Ibra was passing.

He bowed.

"Ibra." He tried to hide the exhaustion in his voice, "Were you able to rest? Can I have anything brought for you?"

Ibra haulted the moment Faraji appeared.  She couldn't help but bristle at his sudden appearance. She wasn't exactly in a good mood to interact with him- or well... anybody.

So inspite of herself, she sighed loudly and shook her head.

"I've been too anxious for rest- and it seems the entire serving staff feels the same."

It was almost ridiculous. But she couldn't blame them- not for reacting this way after the attempt at her life. But she was too exhausted to feel anything but irritation.

She studied Faraji and frowned.

"Did the servants fetch you?" This was not what she was hoping for- and knew he had better things to occupy his time than chasing her throughout his hallways.

Faraji was already standing by the time Ibra rolled her eyes and he caught the entire display with only a small sense of defeat. He knew she didn't like any of this. He knew that having her protected was bound to send her into flight like a young sparrow, but he couldn't let her just exist like she wanted to. Not now. Not when her very life hung in the balance.

Maybe she would never marry him. Maybe she would simply introduce him to his son and then walk out of his life. Maybe he would end up marrying Saanvi by choice just to ignore the fact that everything in his life was one giant crumbling wall that was losing its foundation against a raging flood.

"I asked them to." He said quietly, ever the epitome of high bred grace, "Your safety is of utmost importance and I will not see you placed in harms way again under my roof."

He was tired. His eyes were hooded and he could feel his words clipping more than usual, though he had no control over it now.

Now it was his turn to sigh and the mask broke if only for a moment to reveal the deep seated exhaustion that threatened to consume him, "They melted a wall, Ibra."

She digested those words.

"I suppose I'd do the same," came her barbed reply. 

She was trying to deal with the situation by trying to ignore it. But that was foolish.. she knew it.. but part of her knew she had to find a means not to panic. She was too clever not to have the fear or her son's safety be at the forefront or her mind.

She was kicking herself for not immediately returning with him. But she could never have expected someone would target her...

And of they did and knew what they were doing... they'd know she had a son and..

Inspite of herself, tears prickled within her eyes. She rigidly shifted away from Faraji, not wanting him to see her be so weak. And if they realized what Faraji was to her....

"Can we have a moment alone?" She asked quietly, hoping the servants didn't witness her moment of weakness. She needed to inform him of her fears without alarming the entire house hold. But.. what could they even do about her son now? He was already enroute...
Kia's name.. what was she going to do? And who would possibly be after her life .. and so aggressively?

Faraji was tired, but decorum dictated that he not show that weakness. Even if they were married he wouldn't want to appear weak before her as it was his place to maintain order and calm lest he be labeled weak. And being weak in this cutthroat world would only invite trouble.

So, instead of backing away and refusing to speak to her about the concerns listed on her face, instead of telling her to go rest so he, in turn, could also rest – he nodded curtly at her request. At a quick tilt of his head, the servants dispersed.

"Come." His words were soft, but it was a demand nonetheless, and he turned to lead her back into his own chambers. Upon seeing them, his father stood and bowed deeply before exiting the room without so much as a word. He understood when words were needed and recognized that this was not the moment for pleasantries.

And then, they were alone.

Faraji motioned for Ibra to take a seat, but did not move to sit himself. Instead, he stood by his desk with its overflowing papers and bits of spilled ink – an unusual sight for someone who prided himself on cleanliness and order.

"I'm listening." He stood tall with his hands clasped behind his back as he waited for whatever bombshell she was about to drop – fully expecting her to reject him again and leave forever.