The Bodyguard
Shahzadeh Bahir’s voice drifted over to me. “You ride with her. I’m not risking my neck—not yet.”
Four soldiers surrounded me, eyes peeled for movement on my part.
I held still, fury burning within me as I watched the two men speak a few feet away.
Shahzadeh Bahir seemed in command, and yet the soldiers didn’t follow his orders directly.
Strange. Shahzadeh Bahir waved the general off and was approached by soldiers dragging a prisoner.
With a start, I realized he was in our uniform.
Then I took in his familiar features and bit back the hate that accompanied the sight.
The one person I wouldn’t be sad to see ended still lived. Samir Murdar.
The Northern general led a victory prayer in front of the army.
He was the only one garbed in full black.
My gut twisted at the sight, watching as they lowered their heads to the ground and praised the Almighty for gifting them triumph over my people.
Shahzadeh Bahir didn’t join them. He remained off to the side with some of his soldiers, though they chanted under their breaths.
The North followed the same monotheistic religion we did, but from what I’d heard, they had added additional rituals.
The general approached me when the prayer had finished, blocking my view of Shahzadeh Bahir.
“Shahdokht Farani.”
I glared at him as the sunlight highlighted his features. The resemblance between him and Bahir was uncanny. I scoured my mental shelves of information on the Northern royalty. Infamous for their harem. Never took a wife. Consorted with multiple women to produce as many heirs as possible.
The shah had five children: three with the head of his harem and two more with another woman. Firstborn was Shahzadeh Dayyan, followed by Shahzadeh Bahir and Shahdokht Bazmara.
The general’s bronze skin was creased in several areas.
His humorless face seemed incapable of smiling, and yet the lines by his eyes spoke otherwise.
Dark hair escaped his turban, settling over dark brows.
His irises were blue, like Bahir’s, but not as vicious.
They were the blue of an early-morning sky.
I placed him in the line of succession. He couldn’t be the youngest. That left one option.
“Shahzadeh Dayyan,” I addressed him. “I didn’t expect the heir to receive orders from his younger brother.”
His reply was quick. “Your intended is the heir. I simply do as my shah commands.”
“He is nothing more than my jailor. I have no wish to be part of the Northern scum who slayed my family.”
“I think you should be satisfied with retaining your life.”
He stepped closer, erasing the distance between us. He was large and broad shouldered, like most of the Northerners. We were smaller and compact in the South, but that made us quicker.
“What are you doing?” I bit out.
He spared no response and grabbed my hands, pulling me toward him. My attempts at resisting were futile. He wrapped a rope around my wrists. The rough cord rubbed against my skin.
“Do not make this harder than it has to be,” he said. “You don’t seem too devastated to have just lost your father.”
The words stung me into submission. Like salt on an open wound, they burned.
I had been attempting to block out the pain and horror of the past hours, keeping the terrible reality curtained in the back of my mind, where I could dissect it and then crumble to pieces later when I was alone, when I didn’t have to be strong.
I heard an intake of breath and glanced at Shahzadeh Dayyan.
His blue eyes almost seemed regretful before he blinked and they returned to their previous uncaring state.
I had most assuredly imagined any type of remorse.
The Northerners were as cold as their gazes.
They had no feelings other than the thirst to achieve what they believed was their heritage.
Fingers drifted by my face, and the fabric of my chadar was lifted. My eyes met Shahzadeh Dayyan’s as he tucked the material into place, the coins clinking at the movement. His act of kindness befuddled me until he spoke.
“The sand burns,” he said, pulling the end of his turban over his nose.
He grasped my upper arm and tugged me toward his horse.
I resisted purely to annoy him and prove I still had fight in me.
He didn’t seem swayed, proceeding to clasp my waist and fling me up into the saddle.
I gripped the pommel and realized the ropes weren’t tight around my wrists.
He must’ve been more arrogant than I presumed if he believed himself fully capable of keeping me from escaping.
His overwhelming presence loomed over me as he mounted behind me. I grimaced at the forced closeness; my back might as well have been stitched to his chest. This was the closest I had been to a man in years. My chest tightened. The last time . . .
I squeezed my eyes closed. It was too agonizing to remember.
Long muscled arms reached around me for the reins, and my breathing grew labored.
A buzzing sensation rang in my ears, and my skin tingled.
My vision darkened. I recognized the symptoms and fought myself, struggling to find a distraction.
I spotted Samir Murdar in the distance, standing amid the sand covered with dead.
He remained a solitary figure as the Northerners mounted their horses in preparation for travel.
“Incredible,” I said, willing my voice not to tremble. “You left a survivor.”
“A blessing for your people.” Shahzadeh Dayyan leaned closer, tilting his head to speak by my ear. “He is going to bring word to whoever remains in the palace to surrender.”
“But that wasn’t the agreement. Marriage to the shahdokht—” I stopped, started over. “Marriage to me should mean the end of the war. Why did you kill our soldiers?”
“I’m afraid my brother and father won’t settle for that.”
“But you would?”
Silence met my question. I fumed inwardly. Shahzadeh Dayyan clicked his tongue, setting the horse forward. We rode at a bruising pace. Time passed in a blurry of sand and hooves.
“There is a long way until the palace. I suggest you get some sleep.” Shahzadeh Dayyan’s arms curved around me in an invitation to rest my head.
I stiffened further, my shoulders and back aching from sitting upright, but I refused to succumb to my enemy.
The sun bore down on us. As the hours passed, my lashes fluttered in my struggle to remain awake.
Weariness seeped into my bones. Just a few moments, I told myself.
I would give my eyes a few seconds to rest.
My head bounced forward at the change in pace. I blinked, taking in the sight of the sinking sun. When did that happen? I froze, realizing I was leaning against Shahzadeh Dayyan. I pulled myself upright in an instant.
“Awakened just in time,” Shahzadeh Dayyan rumbled.
I glanced over my shoulder as he halted the horse and lifted his arm. The other horses slowed, and Shahzadeh Bahir dismounted at once.
“Set up fires. We will rest for the night,” Shahzadeh Bahir ordered. “Bring the girl here.”
I sat rigid in the saddle as Shahzadeh Dayyan alighted from the mount.
He reached up, waiting for me to accept his assistance.
I pointedly ignored him, swung my legs over, and dropped.
My limbs trembled when my feet connected with the ground, and I reached for the saddle, gripping it to keep from crumpling into the sand.
I made the mistake of glancing at the prince.
I’d been expecting annoyance, but amusement rested in his eyes.
I pulled myself to my full height, willing the numbness in my legs to fade.
“Well? Won’t you deliver me to your little brother?”
“Eager to reunite with your intended, are you?”
I inhaled a steadying breath and bit back my response.
He took my bound arm and propelled me forward to where Shahzadeh Bahir was already sprawled before a fire and drinking from a camel skin.
He glanced up as we approached and waved us beside him.
I attempted to keep as much distance between us as I could. Shahzadeh Dayyan sat across from us.
“Shahdokht Farani,” Shahzadeh Bahir began, wiping excess water from his beard. “What a pleasure it is to meet you at last.”
I remained silent.
“Soon, all the desert will have the leisure of being under the North’s rule, and you will see your family once again.” He smiled as if he’d given me a gift.
“What’s left of them,” I snarled. “You murdered my father just this morning. Do you expect me to thank you?”
“Some sacrifices had to be made. I assume you know what I mean.” He leaned closer, a smile cutting arrogance into his cruel face. “The prophecy. You are the answer to the desert. To our home.”
I focused on the fire roaring between us and Shahzadeh Dayyan. The words to a prophecy only Farani could actualize were a soft whisper in my ear, and I startled when I realized Bahir was reciting it.
“The desert will crumble
to ruin and dust,
to endless sand,
coated rust.
Barren land,
but the roots will bring life.
The purest of pure,
a worthy princess,
will restore the desert.”
I tore my gaze from his icy blue one, but he gripped my chin, dragging my face back to him.
The cold of his fingers seeped through the material of my chadar.
I held in a flinch. His lethal smile remained, and then he jerked the material from my face.
The flames crackled, and my lips parted at his audacity. He brushed fingers over my cheek.
“This will stay open around me. You will not conceal your face. Understand?”
I glared back at him. Shahzadeh Dayyan’s piercing stare lingered on us as Bahir’s grip tightened on my chin, harsh enough to leave marks.
“I said, understand?”
Shahzadeh Dayyan stood. “Shahzadeh Bahir, we must discuss the army’s strategy of moving into the city.”
Bahir’s hand dropped, and he nodded, then dismissed me with a flick of his fingers. As I walked past, Shahzadeh Dayyan peered at me.
The army camped under the open sky. Palm trees filled with dates swayed nearby.
I rested beneath one, wishing I had some form of weapon.
The stares of the soldiers were rooted on me, making my skin prickle, but I forced my lids closed, wishing I were somewhere else, wishing I were someone else.
Maybe my younger innocent self, when I hadn’t yet known the horror of the world.
When my dreams were as vibrant as the stars.
My lashes fluttered open and I stared up at the twinkling things in the sky.
When I watched them, I could almost visualize my father beside me.
The soft tone of his voice rumbling by my ear as he told me mythical stories while brushing my hair back.
I could almost smell the musky scent only he carried.
I could almost believe in the beautiful worlds he’d spun with his tales.
But those worlds didn’t exist—not without him.
I closed my eyes again, shuttering that beautiful view away. A tear slipped down my cheek and sank into the thick braids within my chadar. The tear angered me. Before today, it had been so long since sadness had broken through my exterior. I hadn’t allowed it.
And I couldn’t allow it to happen again.