WINNER OF READERS CHOICE AWARDS 2020 (Historical Fiction)
Stone hearts.
Silver to gold.
And the fierce need to prove oneself.
Highest ranks: #1 in Arabia || #3 in History || #51 in Assassin || #90 in Spiritual
A/N: Hope you all enjoy this chapter! Just getting to know some of the characters a little better. Please do comment your thoughts and vote if you enjoyed reading!
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"waqt ki qaid mein zindagi hai magar chand ghadiyaan yehi hain jo aazaad hain inko kho kar mere jaan-e-jaan umr bhar na taraste raho aaj jaane ki zid na karo
life is trapped in the prison of time but these are the few moments that are free by losing them, my beloved let's not have a life of regret tonight, don't insist on leaving"
- Farida Khanum, Aaj Jaane Kee Zid Na Karo.
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"You do not think with a cool mind, ya Falaq"
Falaq ignored Ustadh's words as she ferociously sparred with Ibrahim. Couldn't be wait to give her criticism after? Her focus had to be on Ibrahim's every meticulous move- losing to him or to anyone else always humiliated her greatly. She hated losing. She hated being nervous or scared about anything. Falaq always had to be in control of herself and her surroundings. An impossible task, but she was as stubborn as a mule when it came to it.
One of Ibrahim's sword's snaked through her defence and struck her armour with a clang. Her eyes shot up to meet his in fury, as ablaze as the roaring fire of their forgery. She struck back with renewed vigour, both swords ferociously pacing forward to meet his. The sound of metal against metal rang throughout the forgery. Her next blow was met with his defence but it caused him to step back on his left foot for support. Relentless, Falaq forced him back again. Even though Ibrahim was bigger and stronger than her, the force of her attack had taken him by surprise.
"Falaq-calm-down-" Ibrahim grunted, pushing her back.
She barely heard him. She was too busy trying to get an opening.
She found one a few minutes later as he struck at her. She lodged his attacking hand under her arm and slid her own around his neck, metal on the precious skin of his throat.
They both held the position for a few moments as Falaq made sure Ustadh was aware she had won the fight. Her eyes locked with his calm blue ones. If not for the crease in his forehead no one would have guessed he was concerned.
