A Desert Rose (editing)

~ S E V E N T E E N | C R O S S R O A D S ~

It would be easy for him to abandon love for duty, but when duty became love, then what could he expect to do, expect to gain? Trapped between the approval of his sultan, or the love of his wife.

Laila snuggled against her husband, admiring the damaged sculpture before them. It was broken from some places, surrounded by dust and uncared for. Although abandoned, the falcon of the desert stood proud amongst the isolated part of the city.

It was the tribute to the sultan. But not the sultan who bore the throne now. No, this was for a preceding leader. One who was unheard of.

They say he was just and brave. His people loved him so that they made this statue in his honour. He ruled only for a short period, his death unexplained as he left behind his pregnant wife and sorrowful people.

"Sultan Amir had no choice but to take his place as the next in line. Since then, no one speaks of the previous ruler." Laila bit her lip, "And his wife?" she asked.

Usman shrugged, "Some say she ran away a few days later. Some say she and her unborn child were killed. Either way, she was never seen again." Laila sat up, displeased at his reaction.

"You speak so casually, as though a woman and child were not harmed. Do you not feel sadness for them?" Usman rolled his eyes, caressing her hair.

"Of course my love, it saddens me. But there is nothing that can be done. Sultan Amir tried hard to search for them but they had truly disappeared." Usman bought her head down to his chest again. Seated on the carriage, darkness almost fell upon them.

"Tell me Laila, what do you search for in a husband?" he asked after a while.

Laila giggled at his question.

"I-hmm." She placed her finger on her chin, thinking hard before her eyes lit up.

"I wanted for someone who thought like a writer, gifted like an artist and spoke like a poet." Usman scrunched his brows in confusion.

"I mean who could love better than a writer, or create something more beautiful than an artist. Or speak words as graceful as a poet?" Her quiet laughter filled the coming night.

Usman joined in her joy, facing her.

"I have one lord, and he gave me a love better than any writer could have written." His fingers reached down to caress Laila's cheeks.

"He created something more beautiful than anything I have seen and gifted it to me." Her dark eyes stared deep into his.
"Something so perfect, no poet could find words for."

They stayed still, frozen in time.

Until eventually time forced them back to the palace.

"You will come to me soon?" Laila asked innocently as her husband took hold of her hand.
He leant down, placing a gentle kiss on it.

"I will always return to you." She shied away, her cheeking colouring red.

He would come back.

-

Usman held his expression, unwilling to falter beneath the cold stare of his adopted father. A thousand words ran under his tongue, begging for release.

Perhaps the sultan would understand?
He thought, naively.

Blinded by his loyalty still, even when knowing that the man before him was not good nor just.
Sultan Amir was evil to his very bone.
It was a hard fact to admit, especially when the man before him had saved Usman from a life of torture and dismay.
Yet, he could not be foolish. There was a motive.