Time passed in flickers and glances. The palace moved with its usual grace. Fountains murmured, concubines trained, and silks were traded or stitched, but Aneesa had begun to feel a pulse beneath the beauty. A steady, quiet panic that no one dared to name.
She had spent nearly every afternoon and late evening in the library, deciphering ancient scrolls passed to her in silence by the Malika. Each one layered in code, filled with fragments of correspondence, shifting allegiances, and vague references to trade routes that weren't meant to be disturbed.
But Aneesa had disturbed them. Word by word, and what she uncovered left her cold.
There was mention of a breach along the northern frontier. Of a powerful noble with ties to foreign forces. Of secret payments made in the name of peace. And of a phrase that repeated like a haunting refrain: "Andalusia will fall, not by storm, but by fire."
She hadn't told anyone. Not yet. She had to ensure her translations were accurate.
She saw Tariq sometimes across the library halls, moving through shelves of alchemical texts and journals lined with maddening theory. They exchanged little more than nods now, avoiding opportunities to collide like ships in the night.
That was until the morning she was summoned.
She had just stepped out of her quarters in the harem when a young steward appeared, dressed in the crest of the royal family. He bowed, barely.
"His Highness requests your presence. At once."
A hush fell over the courtyard.
From behind her, a familiar voice sliced the air.
"How convenient," Jahima said, rising from a silk cushion like a serpent uncurling. "Another private audience. Will you be tutoring him now? Or simply offering comfort?"
Aneesa didn't stop walking.
But Jahima followed, her voice low and biting.
"You play the part of scholar well, but don't pretend you're not angling for the same crown like the rest of us."
"I have no interest in crowns," Aneesa said without turning.
"Liar," Jahima hissed, grabbing her by the arm and forcing her to turn around. "You want to be the favorite. You think you already are."
Aneesa removed Jahima's hand from her arm calmly.
"If that were true, you wouldn't be chasing me down the corridor, and I'd already be sitting beside him."
Jahima's nostrils flared. Her smile returned, wider now, more dangerous.
"You may be clever, Aneesa. But you don't know everything, and knowledge burns out."
Aneesa met her gaze. "Then I suggest you acquire some quickly. Because you are holding ashes."
The words surprised even Aneesa as they left her mouth, but she didn't waver. A rush of heat flooded her chest, not anger, but clarity. For the first time, she realized just how much she had seen and how little she feared what came next.
And with that, she stepped past her, leaving the harem behind.
------
The Emir's chambers were darker than she expected.
The walls were lined with scrolls and maps, the scent of old ink and soot lingered in the air. Sunlight barely touched the space. Instead, a fiery glow filled the room from a furnace that roared eternally, making it abnormally hot. Aneesa stood just inside the threshold, a scroll in hand, as sweat began to form on her brow. The Emir ignored her, seemingly lost in his work.
He only turned to face her after he finished scribbling on parchment laid out across a cluttered stone table in the center of the room. His robe was thrown on a nearby chair along with his turban. His chest was bare before her, glistening with a fiery glow like an obsidian statue. His amber eyes were so bright they were almost unreadable.
"You've been avoiding me," he said bluntly, wiping his hands together to remove the ink.
"I've been working," she replied softly. "You summoned me and I am here now."
"I should've summoned you sooner."
She lifted a brow. "Why?"
"Because I'm tired of hearing everything secondhand from my mother, from stewards, from the silence between shelves. You move like a shadow. And I am beginning to question if you are even real," he growled as he paced before her.
Her pulse quickened. "I've never been disloyal to you."
"No?" He stepped closer. "You've been reading of war. Reading of betrayal. And saying nothing to the one person who has the most to lose."
"You think you're the only one with something to lose?" she snapped.
Their breath mingled now. The space between them crackled like lightning in a stormy sky.
He looked down at her mouth, then back to her eyes, biting down on his bottom lip.
"I can't stop thinking about you," he said before quickly closing the gap between them. Embracing her in a passionate kiss.
Fierce. Unforgiving. A collision of hunger and frustration.
She melted into him, hands grasping at his muscular arms. His fingertips slid along her back, pulling her in with the urgency of someone who had denied himself too long. She gasped as he picked her up and spun her around. In no time, her spine met the cold stone table, and scrolls and ink jars were knocked aside.
Their tongues thrashed together as one hand clutched at her breasts and another raised her robe and navigated up her inner thigh. He paused, looking at her with eyes on fire with desire.
"I will make you the most powerful woman in all of Andalusia, and together we can reshape its future, I promise, but right now I need you to bend to my desire." He spoke in a commanding yet gentle voice. Aneesa swallowed hard and nodded cautiously. He smiled devilishly, looking her over slowly before tearing open the silk that concealed her chest.
He moaned as he marveled at her large breasts with nipples erect and waiting to be touched. He buried his face into her bosom, grabbing tightly as he made circles with his tongue around her dark brown nipples.
Aneesa moaned loudly before placing a hand over her own mouth.
"Don't," he said as he sucked at her chest. "I want to hear your ecstasy."
Aneesa removed her hand and then abandoned herself to the pleasure. His other hand made its way to the soft spot between her legs, which was soaking wet as he circled her button with his fingers, rubbing diligently to release her moans.
"Tariq…uh…I…"
Then, a knock.
Tariq froze. Aneesa stiffened.
A beat passed.
"Tariq?" came the voice. "Are you still lazing about in that cave?"
The Sultan.
Tariq stared intensely at Aneesa as his hands went back to work between her legs, picking up the pace as she tried to bottle up her reaction.
"It appears I am occupied at the moment, father," Tariq called, his mouth open as if to conjure a moan from Aneesa's lips. As she climaxed, he pressed a finger inside her wetness and rapidly moved in and out, the sound of flesh and moisture filling the air. Her moans were no longer contained as she called out in ecstasy.
The king stood outside the doorway wearing a knowing smirk.
"Well," he said to himself, smiling before calling to Tariq, "Carry on, my son. But don't forget, pleasure should not be brief." He then walked away, and they could hear the sound of his robe sweeping across the stone floor.
Aneesa was snapped back to reality, panicked by her own shame. Pushing Tariq away, mortified, she wrapped her arms around herself.
"I should go," she murmured.
But Tariq only laughed a low, amused laugh as he leaned against the table.
"What are you so ashamed of?" He said. "There are several concubines in this palace. It's not a secret what they're meant for. How would anyone know it was you?"
Aneesa slid off the table and slowly looked up at him.
His smirk faltered as he saw her face.
Without a word, she slapped him hard across the cheek.
The crack echoed, and his laughter vanished.
He turned his head slowly back toward her, jaw tight, eyes dark.
Aneesa's breath hitched.
His gaze held hers, unmoving.
And, for a moment, he was terrifying.