❝My love will drown you to the depths of the sea.❞
Furat bin Kiyan, the fleet admiral of Al Andalus, is a spy and a rebel on a mission to kill the caliph of Cordoba and claim the throne for himself. But finds himself in trouble at the hands of Rahaf...
I have buried you in every place I've been. You keep ending up in my shaking hands.
— Bon Iver
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Qurtuba, Al Andalus (Cordoba, Andalusia)
THIS IS LIFE. Sometimes fair. Sometimes unfair. Such is the fate of mankind. To be both happy and unhappy. To know both bitter and sweet. For any wise man will accept this reality— the reality of this world is that it's no heaven. And that a man no matter how wise will never fully understand the wisdom of God— that that which brings us pain perhaps have some goodness in it for us.
Such is life after all. Things. People. Time changes them all. Only to slowly bury them all. The world around us and within us too. Some dreams we dream are fulfilled. Some dreams, we learn, are only meant to be dreamt but never to come true. The story of life is unfolded bit by bit, thus never understood until time reveals what the future conceals.
Marrar looks down the balcony at the archway underneath which Rahaf stands. She's smiling. She's happy. He can tell it by the way her smile is wide and her eyes are alive. Sometimes her teeth show as her smile turns into a grin. Sometimes she covers her mouth with her hand as she laughs. He cannot hear it. But he knows it's soft. Gentle like her. Everything about Rahaf has always been so lovely. So loveable. Perhaps why he feels what he feels towards her. He feels his heart contract agonizingly. But he cannot look away from her.
If Tahman bin Motassem was alive, she would be his bride. Not ibn Kiyan's. Not anyone else's. But then if he was alive, would she ever be happy?
And who is he to envy anyone? She has known him longer than she knows Furat. Yet it's Furat she chose. It's Furat she loves. And God, how he hates Furat. Marrar cannot help this unjustified resentment he feels towards him. As if he has taken away something which belonged to him. As if she was ever his to begin with.
"Aswad didn't allow you to leave?"
He blinks out of his thoughts and turns around to find Adara bint Nurahan standing behind him.
"Malika?"
She smiles, stepping near the handrail of the balcony as her own eyes find Rahaf.
"You don't want to attend her wedding, do you?"
Marrar presses his lips together and lowers his gaze. He doesn't need to answer her. He doesn't have one for her.
"Aswad should've allowed you to leave Qurtuba when you asked for his permission. My husband can be cruel sometimes. But then again," she tilts her head, contemplative, "I don't know of his reasons. He's a complicated man. If he knows of your feelings towards his sister, he's very lenient in his punishment towards you, if this is a punishment at all. If not, if he's unaware, which I highly doubt, then you're very fortunate."
