Sahayl shook his head, trying not to laugh at the fury on Wafai's face. "I have missed you, brother of my soul. Let us call for refreshments and then you can tell all that I have missed, and help me to figure out how we are to go about fixing things."
Wafai glared a moment longer at Isra, who pointedly ignored him, then gave a grunt and moved to the door to call for food and wine. "First, you will tell me how you have become a Prince."
"Saa, but that is so boring," Sahayl said as he sat down next to Isra. "I would much rather hear of my home."
"Too bad," Wafai said tartly, sitting down at the remaining side. "Tell me what trouble you caused in Tavamara, and why that dratted Falcon is no longer your enemy." He shifted his attention to the other two. Shihab grinned back. Bahadur sat quietly.
Sahayl laughed. "Saa, brother of my soul, I assure you it is quite boring. But as I prefer not to be strangled, I suppose I must tell you, and then you will tell me all that I have missed here."
"Of course, Sandstorm Prince," Wafai replied with forced patience. "Now tell me."
Nineteen
"You're cheating," Isra accused, throwing a small red tile at Shihab. "Why do I always let you trick me into this?"
Wafai smirked. "Maybe you simply lack skill, Falcon."
Isra ignored him and threw a black tile at Shihab. "We're done. I'm not playing with you ever again."
Shihab began to gather the playing pieces back together, sorting them by color and markings, laying them out again in the starting pattern. "Playing?" he asked, looking first at Wafai and then at Bahadur. The four of them were all gathered around a low table in a large room used for gathering, socializing. It was one of the few rooms in relatively good condition, the few holes patched up years ago by Ghost, the room decorated with tapestries, rugs, the few scattered tables surrounded by cushions and pillows, everything in black, deep red and gold. No one else was currently in the room.
Wafai shook his head. "Sahayl should be out of his meeting soon - at least I hope." He glowered at the absent Prince. "He should have let me go with him."
"He should have let someone," Isra said, "maybe not necessarily you."
"Desert rose," Bahadur murmured. "Who better than his protector?"
Isra said nothing, merely moved his first pieces, a dark yellow tile painted with a black, swirling symbol, forward three spaces on the large white board.
Shihab smirked and moved a black piece painted with white dots. "I'm certain you'll get to beat sense into someone eventually, Isra. Stop playing so poorly."
"Who's playing poorly?" Isra snapped, moving a plain green piece two spaces to the right.
"What is this about beating?" Wafai asked, voice cold, bringing everyone to a halt.
Shihab opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Isra. "A jest," he said, for once speaking seriously to Wafai, looking him in the eyes. "I have a temper, not that kind of temper."
Wafai stared back, not replying.
"You're his protector," Isra said, eyes still locked with Wafai's. "Why didn't you ever protect him from Hashim?" From the corner of his eye, he could see Shihab exchanging a confused glance with Bahadur.
"We tried," Wafai said, face tightening. "He would not let us."
"That's no excuse!" Isra snapped, knowing he was overreacting but not caring. He'd seen the damage Hashim had done. He'd seen the deeper effects of those beatings. Lady bury them all in the Sands, the protector's excuses were nothing more than that - pathetic excuses.
"You should have protected him anyway."
Wafai rose to his knees and leaned over the table, looming over Isra. "I don't need to hear that from a man who tried to kill my Prince every time we met. Now suddenly you're his lover? What game are you playing, Falcon? Hmm? Am I going to find my Prince with a knife in his back and feathers scattered on the bed?"
Isra snapped, and before he could think swung a punch, then launched himself at the man, scattering game pieces, ignoring the shouts from Bahadur and Shihab. "Stay out of it," he snarled, the pause to order his friends back costing him, sending him reeling from the blow to his jaw. "Useless protector!"
"Worthless Falcon!"
"Children," Shihab muttered, and set the game pieces up again as Isra and Wafai continued to fight, wrecking the rest of the room.
Shouting slowed Isra down a moment, and he looked up in time to see two Ghost rushing toward them, reaching out to grab him, haul him up and away."
"Stop," Wafai said, wiping blood from his lip, looking at the men who held Isra back. "Leave him, Noor, Kahlil." He shifted his gaze to Isra. "We're done."
Isra nodded stiffly, and gingerly tested his jaw once the men let him go. He spared them a brief glance, distantly recognizing them as higher ranking members in Ghost.
"What is going on here?" Noor asked, his voice the sort that made younger men snap to attention. "Wafai, such behavior is unlike you."
"My apologies," Wafai said. "The Falcon accused me of failing to protect my Prince."
"None of you did," Isra snapped. "I've seen what Hashim did to him. The deeper effects everyone ignored. Why did none of you protect him? If Hashim were here, I would kill him myself! Why did none of you?" He eyed all three men, wiping blood from a small scrape on his forehead.
Wafai eyed him. "Tell me why it matters to you, Falcon." His eyes strayed to the scar on Isra's cheek. "You hated him. Now you don't? Why should I trust you? I am his protector, and I will be unless someone more fit for the duty comes along. Ghost and Falcon were enemies for a long time. Why should I believe you've so thoroughly changed your mind?"
"The sands are ever shifting," Isra said. "Some shifts hide things, other shifts reveal things."
He stared Wafai down, refusing to look away, hands curling into fists. "A Sandstorm is a hard thing to resist."
"That is true," Wafai said quietly.
"It might interest you to know," Shihab said from the table where he and Bahadur had begun a new game, "that several days ago Isra formally agreed to join Sahayl's harem."
Silence fell as the words were absorbed by the three Ghost. "His what?" Wafai finally demanded.
"His harem," Shihab said, and as though they were discussing nothing more important than the game set in front of him, began to explain the laws surrounding Tavamaran royalty. "So, essentially, Isra is giving up his freedom simply to be with Sahayl. Only the Prince can dismiss him from the position, and that has not happened for hundreds of years. When the fighting is finished, Isra will rarely leave this palace, no one else - not even family - will ever be allowed to touch him." He moved a plain black piece over, taking one of Bahadur's yellow pieces. "I'm sure you understand what I am explaining."
"This is true?" Wafai asked, looking at Isra, sharing a glance with his fellow Ghost.
"Yes," Isra bit out, tensed for some slur, ready to finish what he'd begun with the smug bastard protector.
Wafai held his hand up in a sign of peace. "Enough. The nonheathen has no reason to lie, and I have never seen Sahayl as close to happy as he is when you're around - though I do not care for his choice. If what you say is true, you are giving up much. I will trust you, Falcon."
"Isra," Isra said, unbending slightly. "You all may as well call me Isra."
"Can you keep a secret, Isra?" Kahlil asked. "Even from Sahayl?"
Isra frowned, blue eyes narrowing in suspicion.
Wafai looked to the other two. "What of you? Nonheathen? Former Jackal. Sahayl trusts you, but that does not mean I do."
"We have saved him from two assassins," Shihab answered. "Bahadur the first one, Isra the second. He is all that unites us…though Isra and I are friends of old…we cannot convince you, protector, but I swear we are on his side."
"Wafai…" Noor said.
"Tell them," Wafai said curtly. "But what we say does not leave this room. It is Ghost's secret.
If I learn that others know what we say, I will know not to trust you."
Isra looked between the three men, struck by the expressions on their faces. Serious, weighted.
"Jackal didn't kill Hashim," Kahlil said quietly, looking Isra in the eye.
Isra barely noticed the startled noises from the table. "What?"
Kahlil continued, his voice flat, emotionless. "They attacked, and they were swift and brutal, but Hashim had brutality down to a fine, terrible art. Even trapped in the confined quarters of his tent, he held his own until we could get there. He was injured, but not fatally. With some rest, he would have survived."
He fell silent, and Noor continued, his voice as cold as Kahlil's had been flat. "We took him by surprise, attacked before he could recover from battle. Made his wounds fatal, and told him as he died that we did it for our Sandstorm Sheik…our Sandstorm Prince." His eyes fastened on Isra. "We could not act sooner because to kill Hashim would have hurt Sahayl deeply. He both loved and hated his father. We always did the best we could. Do not accuse us, especially Wafai, of never having protected our Sandstorm Prince from Hashim."
"Jackal's attack cost us many lives," Kahlil said, "but I think - know - that those who died would have done so gladly to provide the chance to rid us of Hashim."
Isra stared at them, too shocked to formulate a reply. He shook his head. "You should have made him suffer," he finally managed.
Kahlil and Noor said nothing, but their expressions said enough.
"I do not think we'll underestimate Ghost again," Shihab said quietly from the table. "We will keep your secret."
It was quite the secret to keep. If what Kahlil and Noor had done was ever discovered by the wrong people, even a Prince could not prevent their being executed. Anyone who knew about it would also have to be punished - harshly. From what they'd said, most if not all of Ghost was aware of what these two men had done. Ghost was keeping a terrible secret from their Sheik, their Prince.
On top of that, Wafai was right - it would hurt Sahayl to know his father had been murdered.
Somehow, though Sahayl had never spoken of Hashim and what he'd done, Isra knew that.
He had, after all, protected his father that day they'd met to talk peace. With his present knowledge, looking back, he could see that's what Sahayl had been doing. Protecting his Tribe…and his father.
Isra started to speak, but a sudden flood of noise from the hallway prevented him. A moment later several men strode by, some speaking angrily, others calmly, hands moving and waving, all of them clearly agitated in some way. The meeting was over. He abandoned the discussion and strode to the hallway - what remained of it - and turned down to make his way to the meeting hall where Sahayl no doubt lingered.
Yes, and engaged with the Cobra Sheik. Isra frowned and hovered just inside, knowing from experience with his honored uncle how unwise it was to interfere in such discussions. But as the conversation reached his ears, his patience began to wither.
"I will not accept your excuses, Ghost Sheik," Zulfiqar said, jabbing a finger into Sahayl's chest. "You have dishonored and humiliated my daughter. How dare you! She is completely humiliated; her sisters in the Sands will not speak to her. And why should they? She is rejected by a man who suddenly declares himself a Prince. Did you not want to share your power? Think to hoard it? Think my daughter not good enough?"
Sahayl spoke levelly, with patience and respect. Isra didn't know how he managed it.
"Please, Cobra Sheik, I love Rafiqa dearly - but she is as a sister to me. A dear friend. She and Wafai are meant to be together. I meant no disrespect, always I have honored her. She will always be treated with honor and respect in Ghost. All of our Tribe loves her."
"You have humiliated my daughter and humiliated me, and of course after doing so you immediately ran off - and came back a Prince! I refuse to acknowledge you so."
"Please-Cobra Sheik-" Sahayl reached out to stop Zulfiqar as he turned away.
Snarling, furious, Zulfiqar whipped around, his arm rising, the back of his hand connecting sharply, painfully loud, with Sahayl's cheek. "Do not presume to touch me."
Even if he wasn't ready to kill, the brief look of devastation, of fear, that flickered across Sahayl's face, would have tipped him from anger to blinding rage. Screaming in fury, barely aware that the others were not far behind him, Isra threw himself across the room and at the Cobra Sheik, tackling him before he could draw his sword, sending them both to the ground, grunting in satisfaction when Zulfiqar's head met the floor with a resounding crack. "Bastard,"
he hissed. "How dare you strike him. In Tavamara you would be dead. You should be dead."
He leaned down until he was right in the struggling Cobra's face - the man was stronger than he, but Isra had years of experience pinning down a wily, clever, far too flexible Shihab - and spoke low, so that no one else would hear. "Are you trying to take Hashim's place, now?
Striking and hurting for no reason? If you touch him again, Cobra, I will kill you myself -
slowly." He was gratified to see the way Cobra's eyes widened in horror at being compared to Hashim. Releasing him roughly, Isra made certain to kick him as he stood up, then forgot Zulfiqar completely as he strode over to Sahayl and yanked his head down, kissing him hard.
"How did the meeting go?"
Sahayl looked at him, stunned, then to Zulfiqar, then back to Isra. He shook his head, bemused. "Better than expected, desert rose. Notice there is no bloodshed."
But there was a dark mark on Sahayl's right cheek, and only Sahayl's arm wrapped around his waist kept Isra from turning around and beating the Cobra Sheik senseless.
"Isra, who did you attack this time?" Shihab asked with a groan, though Isra recognized that he was trying to ease what could rapidly become a tense situation. "Honored Cobra Shei-,"
Shihab began.
"Do not touch me, heathen," Zulfiqar said, standing up. He looked briefly at Sahayl, giving a curt nod, then turned and strode from the room, blatantly ignoring Wafai who still stood in the doorway.
Sahayl sighed softly and let go of Isra. "I fear I have made an enemy of him." He closed his eyes. "Truly, I intended no harm or insult. I wanted Rafiqa to be happy…"