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: Ramadan Kareem to all my Muslim readers! May Allah swt accept your worship and forgive you and bless you. Lets see if this reaches 20 votes, then I'll upload the next chapter :) Unedited
She consumes my mind with her every effort to push me away. Try as hard as I might I cannot pretend she is not my reality, and yet my hate tries ever so hard to wrench me away.
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Dawn broke out across the horizon, casting a scene of ink mixing with water over the heavens. The stars were slowly fading, while the sun yawned from his slumber. The birds began to sing, but one cohort was particularly pleased: the crows. From the moment their beady eyes opened and their senses came alive, the mouthwatering scent of fresh blood greeted them, and they cawed in excitement as they swooped down from their nests to investigate.
The Valley of Blessed Rains ran thick with the blood of those slain during the night. The stench was beginning to gather, rising up in invisible plumes over the land.
The sentry wiped his eyes, a terrible grief overtaking him as he rode in pursuit of the army that had massacred his brothers in combat. The crows flew over his head, and he knew in his heart what they were there to do. Since the beginning of man's advent on the earth, the crow had the task of cleaning up behind him.
Behind him the fort shrank in size, and before him the army grew. He had the task of delivering the warning, and he knew he would die trying to delay them.
A stormy silence had accumulated at the front of the procession. The brothers felt it. Ozer and Yunus felt it. Taimur felt it. It was emanating from the two riding to the future King's right: Hudayfa and Falaq.
Hudayfa was clad in his armour as usual with his cape fastened and his hood drawn. Under that hood his features simmered, the energy cackling between him and his bride putting him on edge.
Falaq's back was as stiff as a board, and so it had remained the entire night. Her skirts were draped on her side, softly clinking with her steed's movements. Her left hand grasped Batal's reins softly, while the other lay harmlessly in her lap. It throbbed painfully, but the effect of that was yet to be seen on her concealed face.
The jewellery she had taken the effort to painfully redress herself in began to shine and shimmer as the sun emerged. It also revealed her bloodshot eyes and the anger in her brow. It was a relief she was riding at the very front, for the only ones who could see the turmoil in her were the two men who did not care: Hudayfa and Taimur.
