Chapter 3 #2
He was about to answer, but then his head turned sharply. He appeared to be listening for something. Aisha followed his gaze across the shimmering dunes, wondering what he had heard that she didn’t.
‘Shit,’ said the head guard.
Aisha heard it then—the pounding of hooves in the distance.
Tariq wheeled his mare around with a clipped signal to his men. ‘Let’s get off the road.’
‘How do you know who it is?’ Aisha asked.
‘We don’t,’ his guard replied. ‘Which is why we’re getting off the road.’
Tariq sent her gelding forwards with a sharp slap to its flank. The horse lurched after the others. ‘Ready for a gallop?’
‘What? No—’
‘Lean forwards and hold on.’
Then they were off, the guards thundering into formation around them.
Aisha lowered herself against the horse’s neck, grabbing handfuls of mane as sand and sunlight blurred together.
Risking a glance over her shoulder, her stomach dropped as horses crested the horizon.
She reminded herself that she had seen herself and Tariq on the ship. That meant they would make it.
She just needed to stay on the horse.
Tariq remained close to Aisha, bracing for her to tumble off her horse. But to his surprise, she stayed on.
‘We’ll head west for a bit,’ Kaidon called over his shoulder, signalling to the other men.
Tariq snuck another glance at Aisha, who was holding on for dear life while the horse’s mane whipped her face. Then he looked over his shoulder to see if they were being followed.
Damn it.
The group had trailed them off the road and into the desert. They had to be warriors.
‘Are we being followed?’ Aisha yelled into the wind.
‘Don’t worry about what’s behind you. Focus on what’s ahead.’
She looked at him then. ‘But this isn’t the way to the port.’
It certainly wasn’t the most direct way. ‘We’ll get there. Eyes ahead.’
Kaidon dropped back to ride behind Tariq and Aisha. As the prince’s bodyguard, he would ensure any arrows aimed at the prince went through him first.
Sand lashed Tariq’s face as he pushed his horse faster. ‘Nasir must have alerted them,’ he shouted over his shoulder at Kaidon.
That had Aisha looking at him again. ‘He wouldn’t do that.’
He would have rolled his eyes if it weren’t for the sand pelting him. He gestured for her to face forwards.
They continued at that speed for a number of minutes, slowing only when they reached the stony ground that separated desert and coast. Their horses heaved with exhaustion, their necks covered in foamy sweat.
‘I think we’ve lost them,’ Kaidon announced.
Tariq looked back. ‘Thank the gods. The sooner we board, the better.’
They continued at a slow trot, pushing the horses through their fatigue. The smell of seaweed and brine signalled they were close.
‘I can smell the sea,’ Aisha said, sitting taller in the saddle.
Tariq noted her eager expression. ‘When was the last time you visited the coast?’
Her eyes met his. ‘Never.’
His eavesdropping guards exchanged glances.
‘Not even when you were younger?’ Tariq asked, unable to comprehend the idea of never laying eyes on the sea.
Aisha thought for a moment. ‘I travelled inland a handful of times. To Montia and Cesea.’ She swallowed. ‘And Slevaborg.’
And since then, she had spent her entire life inside the palace walls, a small utopia designed to block out the harsh reality of the world on the other side.
Tariq might have felt guilty about removing her from that world if it weren’t for the growing occupation of their land.
Zara seemed happy to hand any one of her sisters over in order to secure the alliance.
He suspected that the king would have preferred to keep his daughters safely inside the walls. There was no fight left in that man.
‘I heard you can see the ocean from Azura’s walls,’ Aisha said. ‘Is that true?’
‘Yes’ was all he said.
When they reached the top of the next hill, they slowed to a walk. He heard Aisha suck in a soft breath. Stretching out before them was the Silver Sea.
‘Wow,’ she said. ‘The world feels much bigger suddenly.’
It was the kind of view Tariq took for granted, having grown up in Gruisea with its endless coastline. But he tried to see it through her eyes. The silhouettes of ships in the harbour. The endless, glittering surface.
‘There will be plenty of water to stare at from the ship,’ Kaidon said, nudging his horse into a trot.
They began their descent towards the dock below, leaving a cloud of dust behind them.
A scatter of whitewashed buildings huddled along the curve of the bay, their flat roofs faded by the salt and sun. Narrow lanes wound between them, nets hanging from doorways like tattered curtains.
When they reached flat ground, Tariq spotted holy warriors patrolling the area on foot, their faces stony as they watched their surroundings. Their ship was on the other side of them.
Kaidon rode up beside Tariq. ‘Got a plan for getting past our new friends over there?’
‘I’m thinking.’ Tariq looked around. ‘First, we need to get the princess safely aboard that ship. I’ll draw them away.’
Aisha whipped her head in his direction. ‘What about you?’
‘I’ll follow once you’re aboard.’
She looked far from convinced. ‘If they catch you—’
‘Your sister will have no difficulty finding you another prospect,’ he finished.
Her face fell at his words, and Kaidon looked away.
‘Get her on the ship and set sail immediately,’ Tariq told him. ‘Don’t delay.’
Aisha shook her head. ‘Your Highness—’
He dismounted and handed Kaidon the reins of his horse. ‘Go.’
Kaidon hesitated before joining the other guards in ushering Aisha into the shadows to wait. Meanwhile, Tariq lowered his headscarf and walked straight towards the ship, confident he would be spotted before reaching it.
And he was right.
The two warriors stilled to watch him for a moment, then conversed.
‘Halt!’ shouted one of the men.
It was time for a little game of cat and mouse. He glanced their way, then pivoted in the opposite direction.
‘I said halt!’
I heard you, arsehole.
Tariq broke into a run, and the chase began.
He darted into the busiest alleyway he could find, hoping to blend in with the crowd.
But that plan fell flat when all the shop owners stopped their conversations to watch him.
He definitely stood out in his foreign clothes.
Behind him, he heard the shouts of the warriors in pursuit, prompting him to turn down the next alleyway and dash into one of the shops.
A woman seated at a small table looked up at him in surprise.
‘Which way did he go?’ he heard one of the warriors shout—too close for comfort.
The woman looked past him, in the direction of the voice. ‘I don’t want any trouble.’
‘Me neither.’ He stepped up to the table. ‘I just need a place to hide until they pass.’
Her eyes narrowed on him. ‘Where’s your accent from?’
He didn’t have time for questions. ‘Please.’
The woman looked him up and down, then let out a resigned breath. ‘Get under the table over there. Quickly now.’
He dove beneath a cloth-covered table half a second before the warriors stepped into the shop, looking around.
‘Good afternoon,’ the woman said. ‘Looking for something for your wives?’ She picked up a brass trinket tree and held it up for them to see. ‘To hold her rings.’
Tariq watched through a gap in the fabric as the warriors stared at the item in her hand before looking around the shop. He held his breath as their gazes brushed over the table where he was hiding. After a few painfully long seconds, they left the shop without saying a word.
Releasing the breath he’d been holding, Tariq waited a few seconds before poking his head out.
‘It’s all right,’ the woman said. ‘They’ve gone.’
Now he had to get back to the port and on that ship before it sailed away.
He crawled out from under the table and stood, brushing dust off his thobe. ‘Thank you for that.’
‘Now are you going to tell me where you’re from?’
He looked around before replying. ‘Gruisea.’
She gave a knowing nod. ‘That explains why they were searching the ship.’ Waddling over to the table he had emerged from, she picked up a garment made of rough wool and handed it to him. ‘Put this on.’
He opened it up and looked at it.
‘Fisherman’s robe,’ she explained, looking him up and down. ‘Help you blend in.’
He gave her a tight smile. ‘Thank you.’ Then he slipped it on.
She stepped back to see him properly. ‘Much better.’
Tariq reached into a pocket to retrieve some coins to pay her, but she waved him off. ‘Any enemy of the holy warriors is a friend of mine.’ She winked. ‘Don’t you have a boat to catch?’
With a quick nod of gratitude, Tariq left the shop, stepping into the bustling laneway and heading back the way he’d come. He needed to get aboard that ship.