Khalifa

26 War

Between the lips and the voice something goes dying.

— Pablo Neruda

✵

Him

"There has been major riots going on in Basra that need urgent attention," his vizier informs him. "They're only becoming more frequent and serious."

"What is the status of the men I sent there?" he asks one of his guards.

"They're trying to keep them in check, my Ameer, but it's proving to be difficult now."

"What do those people want?"

"I think you know what they want, my prince." She comes to stand behind him, placing her hands over his shoulders. "They want the impossible."

It's no surprise to him how she always addresses him as a prince despite him achieving more than that. He knows to her the title of the caliph will always belong to only one man.

"Prince Sulaiman sent a proposal for negotiation over the matters," his vizier adds. "He hopes you'll opt for peace."

He smirks, knowing the only way to peace is for him to surrender to the prince. But he's not the one to give up without a fight. He never has been.

"Sulaiman wants the throne?" He twirls the ring on his finger, humming darkly. "Send a message back. Tell him I'll give him war."

Her

"Is there any way to escape from the palace?"

"Escape from the palace? Maybe. But escape from its Khalifa?" Maysoon chuckles hopelessly as she looks around the garden. "Darling do you think I'd be here if I knew of a way myself?"

Noura walks beside her, eyes tumbling from person to person and thing to thing as if looking for the said escape. "Well, where would you be?"

"Somewhere less ghastly." She gives her a fleeting glance. "Somewhere I could call my home."

Noura smiles sardonically. "I think I know what you mean."

Maysoon stops by a rose bush, leaning in to breathe in its fragrance. "At least you know the meaning of home better than me. You still have one, something to look forward to." She grazes the flowers with her fingertips. "I'm living an uncertainty in the name of life, not knowing what I'm waiting for to happen. A miracle, maybe?" She sighs and straightens, looking up at the sky. "Or maybe a war."

Noura raises both eyebrows incredulously. "You wish for a war to happen?"

"Is it outrageous?" She turns to her, tilting her head slightly. "I don't wish for bloodshed. I only want things to go back to how they used to be-- how they were when Sulaiman was the governor of Dimashq and we were living at his palace. I was happier; I had my freedom. With Al Shafay as the ruler, everything comes down to his desire." They idly resume their stroll through the garden. Maysoon continues, "I only long to be reunited with my brother-- for him to claim what rightfully is his. This caliphate belongs to Sulaiman, not Al Shafay. But I don't think it's possible with peace; war seems inevitable."