Inscribed In The Stars

Chapter 3

Abbas hated to admit that he was stuck. And yet, here he was, having insisted on bringing himself all the way into enemy lands, just because he thought he could solve the problem. Thinking he could bring back the Princess, let alone convince her to return with him.

How was he going to bring back the Princess with him? How was he to even begin convincing her when he had no idea how to talk to women?

Haifa, his wife, being the exception.

Abbas sighed, the thought of missing his wife made his chest tight. Haifa could have helped him, could have spoken to the Princess.

But, no. He could have never brought her into danger. Their own home had been unsafe at one point, and because of that, he vowed to never let that happen again. To ever put her in a danger again, because of him.

Abbas paused his pacing and shut his eyes.

The expressions of the young Prince and Princess flashed in his mind. He inhaled and exhaled, only to notice how shaky his breath was. No, he couldn't relapse into an anxiety attack now.

But the pure expressions of horror were something he could not forget.

"No," he murmured, refusing to let the whispers of the night tempt him into darkness.

Before they could, a knock pulled them to an abrupt stop.

He cracked open the door slowly and sighed in relief when he spotted his dear friend, General Musa, on the other side.

"Busy?"

Abbas gestured him inside, but not before searching the halls for any unwanted listeners. He couldn't be too sure when on enemy ground.

"Any progress?" Musa asked, taking a seat on the comforter by the foot of the bed.

Abbas sighed, shaking his head.

The General hummed back. Musa was three years older than him, the same age as Harun, which made them the best of friends. It was because of their bond, his brother had entrusted his dearest friend to accompany Abbas to Rughad. And any friend of Harun's was his too.

"And our men?" Abbas enquired.

"Restless, but wary. They highly disapprove of you traveling around the Palace without them,"

Abbas allowed his mouth to curve into a smile. "I appreciate their concern, but must I prove to you all again that I can fend for myself?"

Musa scoffed, remembering the wrestling match they had two nights ago. They had all reconvened in this very room after scouring their own for any suspicious items, for a quick briefing, when Abbas had received the invitation for breakfast with the King.

Every single one had volunteered to accompany him. But Abbas declined them all.

"I will attend alone." Abbas confirmed to the servant who had delivered the invite, and when he turned back to his men, the room was set ablaze by their furious glares. And so he challenged them all to a wrestling match, returning to the days of their youth when everything was decided by good old wrestling.

None but Musa had come close to defeating him. Musa may not have had the height of his, but his smaller, more agile limbs were able to slither past Abbas' iron grip locks.

The general's efforts did not go far when Abbas, knowing his friend all too well, lifted his light friend off the ground only to place his whole weight atop him. Musa could not wriggle free.

And so Abbas had attended alone, and thank god he did. If Musa had been there to witness the young Prince Masood's foolishness, his friend would have thrown the first punch before him.