Aneesa woke to the faint rustle of parchment. Morning light spilled across the bed in thin, gold ribbons, illuminating Tariq's indigo robe as he sat at the foot of the mattress, the book she had taken to the Malika resting open across his lap. His long fingers traced the faded ink of its pages as though feeling the weight of each name written there.
"What's so interesting?" she asked, her voice still husky with sleep.
Tariq glanced over his shoulder, a faint smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. "You guard this book as if it were a jewel. I wanted to see what secrets it holds."
She sat up, pulling the sheet loosely around her. "It's more than a book. My mother kept these records, as did her mother before her. The lineage of the entire empire. Births, unions, deaths. Every tie between the noble houses." She paused, studying his expression. "It was her life's work, and now it will be mine."
Tariq's gaze softened. "My mother would approve of such devotion."
"She already knows," Aneesa said. "She knew my mother. They were friends once."
His brows lifted slightly. "Friends?"
"Yes. She said my mother was the first to give her a book when she came to the palace." Aneesa's voice took on a quiet pride. "Perhaps that is why she entrusted me with this now."
Tariq closed the book gently, his thumb resting on its cover. "It suits you."
She hesitated, then tilted her head. "Did you know you have an uncle?"
Tariq stilled, his eyes narrowing just slightly before he nodded. "Of course I did."
"You never mentioned him."
"There's little to mention," he said, standing to place the book on the nearby table. "When I was younger, I studied with him for a time, but my mother put a stop to it."
Aneesa's brows drew together. "Why?"
Tariq turned back to her, the faintest shadow passing through his gaze. "Because she did not trust him." His tone was final, but Aneesa felt the space between them fill with an unspoken truth, something heavier than distrust alone.
She wanted to press further, but the sound of footsteps outside the chamber door reminded her of where they were, and of the Malika's eyes always watching.
Tariq came back to the bed, brushing a curl from her face. "We can speak of old ghosts another time."
But Aneesa knew ghosts rarely waited to be summoned.
"Perhaps we should focus on a duty my mother will approve of."
"Oh?" Aneesa asked, smiling faintly.
"Our duty to produce an heir," he said, half-joking, though his voice carried a spark of something serious. "After all… the empire will need more than alchemists and secrets to survive."
She laughed softly, watching him with delight as he removed his robe; his dark, rich skin was veiled in a thin layer of oil which smelled of fire and incense.
"You know everything cannot be solved in our bed," she said as he crawled onto the bed towards her.
"Not everything," he murmured, grabbing her face and kissing her deeply as he pulled the sheet from her body and rested between her legs.
"But this…" he whispered, guiding his hands between her legs. "This can solve a lot for me today." His hand caressed one of her breasts before taking it into his mouth. Flicking her nipple with his tongue in an effort to conjure a moan, while he worked magic with the other.
Aneesa acknowledged his attention with a low moan, and Tariq continued to harden.
"I love that sound. The melody of your pleasure." He said before opening her legs wide and burying his face between them. Licking and sucking gently at her most sensitive part. His hunger startled her, but the feeling made her quickly melt, and she closed her thighs to slow him down.
"Tariq…" Aneesa moaned as she squirmed beneath him, causing him to force her legs open and intensify his motion. Aneesa shuddered.
"Yes…just like that." He said his breath labored as he licked with determination, stopping only to coach her towards climax. "I want to taste your release," he demanded, sucking gently on her swelling button.
Whatever unspoken worries had filled the room moments ago dissolved in the heat of his touch, her moans growing louder.
"Oh..Tariq…I…I…uh." Anessa's body trembled as she tried to maneuver out of the Emir's grasp, but he wouldn't allow it. Instead, he quickly sheathed himself into her depths, applying pressure to ensure she took all of him. Aneesa arched her hips in return, and he remained still for a moment, allowing himself to feel her tighten around him. He closed his eyes in gratitude and let out a low growl before he began to pull in and out of her slowly until she regained herself.
Then he kissed her passionately as she continued to take every inch of him, his growls turning to moans, their tongues thrashing together.
"Aneesa, I…I want you…uh…I'm," he moaned, trying to keep his composure.
Sensing he was near his release, she pushed him aside, repositioning herself on top of him.
"Not yet…" she whispered, the gentle demand causing him to harden inside her. His eyes seemed to turn into a smoldering blaze, and he bit his lip.
"I am at your mercy," he smiled. Aneesa grabbed his hands and placed them on her hips. Then slowly rode, stopping only when she felt he was too close. She teased him endlessly, pushing him to the point of release before denying him the satisfaction. Each denial caused him to lose himself slowly.
"Kiss me," he begged, and she leaned in and gently kissed his chest, then neck, and finally his lips. He pulsed between her legs and could no longer wait. Grabbing a handful of her hair, he thrusted his tongue into her mouth.
She pressed down firmly onto him, and he grabbed hold of her waist tightly and thrust himself inside her, abandoning his restraint and taking her as if quenching his thirst.
Aneesa felt a mix of pain and pleasure as she collapsed onto his chest, clinging to him tightly. Sunlight traced their bodies as they came together, and in that moment, there was only the rhythm of breath and a promise of a future neither dared to fully imagine.
------
In the late afternoon sun, the Malika stood on her private balcony, the city below humming with life. The people oblivious to the danger on its way.
"The Sultan is here," a servant announced, and the Malika waved her hand in a silent gesture to allow him in. The Sultan entered the room and joined her on the balcony, his presence a wall of steady strength.
"You called for me, Rana. You never beckon me with servants," he said in a playful tone. She didn't look at him at first; her gaze remained fixed on the distant mountains as the silence between them settled him into concern.
"I am worried for Tariq. There are forces gathering, seen and unseen. And one of them shares my blood."
The Sultan's brow furrowed. "Rohan?"
"Yes." Her voice was steady, but the tension in her jaw betrayed her. "My brother's skill in alchemy is unmatched, but so is his ambition. I exiled him years ago for his obsession with the Philosopher's Stone. But now I find that I am in desperate need of his help. If he returns, it will not be to pay respects."
The Sultan stepped beside her, resting one hand on the marble balustrade. "You have always seen danger before others could name it. But you forget, Rana, that you are not alone in this."
"He will not challenge me directly," she said. "He will go through Tariq. He will try to corrupt him, to use him. A situation I can no longer avoid. An army gathers at the foot of the Sierra Nevada, and the threat continues to grow within our walls."
The Sultan turned to her then, his voice low but unyielding. "They will all learn what it means to challenge you. You are the Malika. Fate bends to you, not the other way around."
Finally, she met his eyes as he grabbed her hand and kissed it gently.
"I will have to let the devil in, to save us all, but what if I am wrong?"
"I will forever be your blade," he said, the vow carrying the weight of years. "And if it takes my last breath to protect our son, and the family he has chosen, then so be it."
Something eased in her shoulders. She placed her hand over his. "Then we will let them come."
They stood together in a gentle embrace as the sun dipped lower behind the palace walls, their shadows stretching long over the city. Two lovers bound by power and the shared knowledge that the cost of love is always blood.
-------
Tariq's breathing slowed as sleep claimed him, Aneesa's warmth curled against his side. The early evening moonlight poured through the lattice windows, casting patterns that seemed to shift with each heartbeat. Somewhere in the distance, the sound of the fountain in the courtyard faded… replaced by a slow, steady drip.
He opened his eyes, only to find himself standing ankle-deep in water the color of tarnished silver. The palace walls were gone. In their place stood endless arches, each dripping with beads of red and gold that pulsed like veins. The air smelled of iron and rosemary.
A shadow moved at the far end of the hall.
Rohan stepped forward, his robe a cascade of deep blue stitched with constellations Tariq did not recognize. His face was half-lit, the other half swallowed by shadow.
"You've grown into her image," Rohan's voice echoed loudly like a ringing bell, though his lips barely moved. "But now you must decide whose blood you serve."
"Yā Khāli?"
Behind Rohan, two apparitions appeared. One gold, emitting a blinding light, it was small like a child, and Tariq swore he heard a little girl's laughter. The other was red like blood and pulsed like a heartbeat; the silhouette felt like his mother.
"Old blood," Rohan said, nodding toward the red apparition. "The blood that forged your mother, her reign, her will."
He gestured to the golden one. "New blood. The line that will begin with your child."
"My child?" Tariq's hands shook. "Why are you showing me this?"
Rohan's gaze sharpened, and for a moment his shadow grew taller than the arches themselves. "Because you cannot save both. One will kill the other."
The water rose around Tariq's legs, tugging him down. The arches above groaned, their veins of gold and red splitting, bleeding into the flood.
"Choose," Rohan whispered, his voice suddenly right behind Tariq's ear before he was fully submerged. He felt the air leave his lungs as if he were drowning as the apparitions looked down on him.
Tariq took his last breath in a gasp and woke to Aneesa's hand on his chest, her brow furrowed in concern. "Tariq… you're shaking. You were having a nightmare."
He swallowed hard and grabbed her into a desperate embrace as if trying to anchor himself in reality. Staring at the wall behind her, where the moonlight still painted the same shifting patterns, as if part of the dream had followed him back.