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: New chapter! Lets catch up with Amaan and Ishtar as they try and figure out whatever it is they feel. Please VOTE, COMMENT, and SHARE! We are doing well in rankings Alhumdulillah ❤️. Let's try hit 20 votes this chapter!
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After what felt like years of travelling, the caravan came across a string of villages clustered around the open road to Sham. They were all Arabic speaking, and seemed to be quite excited to see a caravan, hurrying to welcome the new comers and offering them food. Amaan translated, seeming at ease with the townsfolk and relieved to be able to practice his own tongue again. For the most part, Zakariyya's wife and her daughters were ecstatic about seeing people again and they thoroughly enjoyed admiring what the villagers had to sell.
Ishtar caused quite a stir herself. Her beauty was undeniable, and her lineage even more so in the way she walked and talked and carried herself. Although her beautiful robes were not built for so much movement and were diminished as a result, she could have been wearing rags for all the villagers cared. She reveled in the attention, not realising how much she missed it ever since they'd taken to the road.
"Isn't this so pretty Amaan?" Ishtar spoke more so to the sparkling light blue cloth than to the Berber man standing behind her.
Amaan glanced at the dress. It was so shiny it hurt his eyes.
"No" he replied truthfully.
"Well" Ishtar replied haughtily, flicking the material away, "you are a man after all. What would you know about fabrics?"
Amaan smirked, but she did not see for she was too busy moving on to the next stall, determined to find something he would like and therefore validate her taste.
"What about this one?"
"I am a man. I do not know"
"But, what is the feeling you get?"
Amaan sighed, amused and exasperated. He observed the new dress. It was pretty, a plain creamish colour with minimal shimmery embroidery. This was somewhat better. It made her more human to him.
"Adequate" He conceded.
Ishtar beamed. There we go! She gazed back at the fabric adoringly. It was truly beautiful wasn't it?
Amaan haggled for the price on her behalf, and all the while she watched him like a child, oblivious to his words but attentive to his beautiful features. He had a deep, wise gaze that was both gentle and strong. His long black lashes cast down on his cheek bones, his lips full and set perfectly. The contours of his face cast the rest of it in golden hue simmering beneath his ebony skin. His dark hair was wound in braids that hung before his strong shoulders and behind his sturdy back.
