The Sultan's Daughter (Princesses Uncovered #5)

Chapter 18: Fleeing

Fath stood, stretching in the rising desert sun. He shivered, the chill clinging to him.

Behind him, Hashim stirred and sat up, yawning. “Time for breakfast?” He gazed bleary-eyed at the small cooking fire.

Fath nodded. He pulled the pan of food he’d been cooking off the fire. It wasn’t much – just a little oatmeal mixed with drippings from a bird Hashim had caught yesterday.

They had been traveling back to the city for near two days now. Another sandstorm had delayed them yesterday, and they had been forced to stop. Fath sighed. It was taking so long to get back to the city. His mother would be worried by now. They weren’t supposed to be gone so long.

Hashim walked over to sit beside him and gazed into the fire. “What’s bothering you, boy?” He mumbled, still half-asleep.

Fath shrugged. “Just thinking about my mother. She’ll probably be worrying herself sick over me by now…” He trailed off, staring at the flickering shadows the flames were casting in the sand.

Hashim gave him patted his knee. “Don’t you worry, lad. We’ll get back to your home. You’ll see.”

Fath nodded, managing a small smile. “I know we will… I’m not worried.” He mumbled.

Hashim laughed. “That’s my boy! Now, let’s eat.” He rubbed his hands together, looking over the meager breakfast contents.

Fath spooned out the contents of the pan, handing Hashim a bowl and wooden spoon.

As soon as he did, Hashim dug in.

The two of them ate in silence, staring out across the sand dunes.

After a while, Fath spoke. “So… When do we discover if the oil pot actually has a djinn?”

Hashim shrugged. “Well, that’s the thing…”

“What’s wrong?” Fath interrupted, eyeing Hashim with suspicion.

Hashim rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish grin spreading across his lips. “I haven’t the faintest idea how to waken the djinn. I didn’t get that far in my research…”

Fath smirked. “You came out her to get a pot that you thought had a djinn, but you had no idea how to wake the djinn?”

Hashim shrugged again. “Guess not…”

Fath laughed. “Well, we’ll figure it out.” He found it amusing that Hashim had overlooked that important piece of information, but it was bound to cause trouble later.

The two of them returned to their companionable silence as they finished their food.

***

Cemal stood on the plains, his camel stamping its hooves every so often and spitting into the sand. He grimaced. He had no further time. He had to take Hashim now. They were less than a day’s ride from the city; if he waited, Hashim would disappear again. The traitorous wretch had already done so twice. Cemal had sworn he wouldn’t let it happen again.

He spurred the camel on down the dunes, pounding down on the little camp below him.

***

A cloud of dust alerted Hashim to the man’s presence.

He could guess who it was. Cemal.

The king’s nephew had been on his trail for months now. Cemal knew who Hashim was – what he was up to. And if he knew that, then it was possible that Cemal also knew about the oil pot and what it held. If that was the case, he was in serious trouble.

If it had been anyone other than Cemal, it wouldn’t matter, but Cemal was – or rather, had been up until a few months ago – the royal assassin. He was lethal, and it was only by extreme care and luck that Hashim had avoided him up until now.

He waved his arms at Fath, who was still sitting by the fire, oblivious to the approaching danger. “Get up! We’ve got to go, now!”

Fath started, jumping up and looking about. “What? Why?” Then he saw the trail of dust coming. “Who is that?” He asked, pointing.

Hashim shook his head. “Someone you don’t want to meet. Now hurry up. He’s a ways off for now. Get the camels up and saddled up. Throw sand on the fire and take down the tent. Move! Quickly now… We must be on our way as soon as possible if we are to avoid him.” He glanced up at the slow-moving dust trail.

If Cemal catches me, I am going to die… Can’t have that! Panic set in as Hashim realized that he really would die if they were caught, and he began ripping down the tent and helping Fath to rouse and pack the camels.

***

Yaz stood on the palace walls, staring out at the desert, which stretched out on the west side of the palace’s gold-gilded, glimmering walls. She sighed, heart heavy.

Gafar came walking along the wall, his strides long and measured. When he reached her, he put his hands on her waist, drawing her back against him, and burying his face in her hair. “What is the long face for, love?”

She shrugged, leaning against him. “I was just thinking of Fath – the boy Father invited to the palace a week or so ago – and wondering how he was faring.” She turned to face him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

A spark of anger or jealousy lit in his dark eyes. “Why would you wonder happened to him? You have me now.” He murmured, voice thickening.

“Oh, I know… But still… I felt…” She sighed. “I suppose I felt connected to him in a deeper way than I do with you.” She looked down at her feet, biting her lip. “I’m sorry… Don’t be upset.”

He placed his hand under her chin, tilting her face up so he could meet her gaze. “Yaz… I’m not angry with you. I must admit that it stings me that you still do not fully connect with me… But I am not upset with you.” He kissed her for a moment before pulling away. “But I must know… Does he pose a threat to your affections for me?” He murmured.

“I… I don’t know. He’ll probably never come back, so I doubt it. But…” Yaz stammered. “I… There’s this small part of me that hopes he’ll come back. I liked him very much when he came to dinner.” She whispered, looking back out at the desert. “And I have this strange fear within me – a foreboding, perhaps – that something terrible is about to happen to him… I can’t explain it, though.” She murmured, shivering and wrapping her arms around herself.

Gafar sighed, drawing her back into his arms and wrapping her into a warming embrace. “Shh… I’m sure he’s fine.”

Yaz nodded, but she could hear the undertone in his voice. It was vague, and she wondered – hoped too – that she had imagined it, but she knew she hadn’t. Gafar didn’t care what happened to Fath, and he sounded almost delighted by her foreboding.

She rested her head on his shoulder, watching the sun rise from behind the sand dunes and buildings scattered across the horizon. When had her life become so complicated?