Dilras was exhausted, but could not manage to find slumber, even though Mahir's breathing had deepened. Her head rested on his chest, and she stared up at the black sky blanketed with thunderclouds. Her head ached from crying so hard, but at least the sobbing had ceased.
Distractedly, she fidgeted with the pearl at her neck. As she reflected on the last seven years of her life, she tried not to succumb to the overwhelming sense of loss she was feeling. She had no idea where her family was. In her youth, she had never had any reason to know the location of her small village beyond the fact that it was by the ocean. She wondered if, as they traveled north along the coast, if she would see her village. She wondered if she would even recognize it, or if her family would even recognize her. Gone was the carefree young girl who thought if she crept up on them quietly enough, she could befriend small, wild animals. Gone was the girl who made up songs and jokes to entertain her family, just to see them smile, who looked lovingly up at her father as he taught her his trade and embellished folktales. She no longer had long, skinny arms and legs or a curious twinkle as she gazed about her world. Now, here in this small boat was a woman who had become strong and agile. Her laugh did not bubble over as easily and was tinged with cynicism. Her dark eyes no longer saw a world to love, but rather a world of which to be wary. Here was a woman once filled with love who was now sustained by hate.
Yet, as Mahir sighed and pulled her closer to him, she allowed the affection. The king had not completely destroyed her; somewhere buried within her remained a fragment of the woman who was quick to feel empathy, and whose curiosity was nearly insatiable. She both craved and was repelled by Mahir's touch, but he had always been patient and kind, and as they plotted their escape, she had begun to consider him a dear friend. She could feel that her entire body remained tense, however, and occasionally she would will her muscles to relax, only to realize minutes later that she was once again on edge. She tried focusing on the sound of the water as it lapped against the boat in an effort to clear her mind, hoping it would lull her to sleep like it had when she was a child.
We must get her to safety! Fleeing from an evil man!
Dilras's eyes flew open.
Nobody is following her. But we will stay alert!
She bolted up.
Wide-eyed, Dilras strained to look around her to see if there was anyone nearby. The ocean was like restless onyx, and the stars were still hidden behind the clouds. She held her breath to silence her panicked gasping, so she could listen for intruders. She fumbled for Mahir's sword without stopping her fruitless effort to see into the void of the night. She felt a drop of sweat trickle down her chest, and she could not be sure if it was from the hot, muggy air or the fear that was now constricting her throat. But all she heard was the water.
Mahir shifted and blinked. At the tension in Dilras's posture, he jumped up. "What is it?"
"Do you hear anything?"
He held still, and after several moments, said, "Only the water."
"I- I heard voices, or the impression of voices."
He held still again, his head cocked. "I only hear water. Are you sure you heard voices?"
Slowly releasing the hilt of his sword, Dilras began to sit back down, but she still felt like a taut coil, ready to spring. "I thought I was. But I don't hear anything now."
Mahir settled back on the pallet. "You've had a traumatic day. That kind of thing will mess with your mind. Try to get some sleep." His tone was gentle and when he opened his arms to beckon her, she exhaled slowly in an attempt to slow down her still-agitated heart.
"I'll try. I'm going to lie down here, though; it's too hot next to you."
After a brief silence, he responded. "I understand."
Even through the darkness, Dilras could sense his disappointment. She knew he found her attractive, and this wasn't the first time she suspected he desired more than friendship from the man. Throughout their friendship, he had never suggested they be anything more, yet there had been times she had caught his gaze travelling across her body, sometimes lingering on the roundness of her breasts or the curve of her hip. More than once, when he had been working with her on her fighting form, she could feel the evidence of his excitement to be so near her, his hands moving across her arms or placing her hips in the correct position. In fact, there had definitely been times she was sure she hadn't actually needed correction, but he used that as an excuse to share than contact. Yet, even in those moments, he had never let his hands "slip" and had never actually touched her in any way that was inappropriate.
Often, when he had been guarding, and she had been summoned to dance or otherwise entertain the king, the two would exchange knowing looks, sharing their loathing of the man, anxious for the day they would end him. Mahir was a patient teacher as she learned martial skills in secret, and commiserated heartily when she complained about the depraved way the king would subjugate her. When Dilras would rant about her Bhakti ideas and how she interpreted the poems she had learned, Mahir never challenged or disagreed, but would instead share information he had obtained. She trusted him.
Tonight, however, the memory of one evening when she felt someone watching her as she brushed her long, inky hair was preventing her from placing her head back on Mahir's shoulder. He never knew that she had seen him quickly move behind a wall when she turned to the source of the sensation.She had brushed aside the incident, but tonight, she needed to be free from the primal needs of men, especially when the desire was not reciprocated. Thankfully, Dilras knew that he understood, and that he valued their friendship the way she did.
After one more look around, and a few more calming breaths, she laid down. The newly freed woman felt tears welling up once again, and this time, she cried herself to sleep.
We must get her to safety! Fleeing from an evil man!
Dilras's eyes flew open.
Nobody is following her. But we will stay alert!
She bolted up.
Wide-eyed, Dilras strained to look around her to see if there was anyone nearby. The ocean was like restless onyx, and the stars were still hidden behind the clouds. She held her breath to silence her panicked gasping, so she could listen for intruders. She fumbled for Mahir's sword without stopping her fruitless effort to see into the void of the night. She felt a drop of sweat trickle down her chest, and she could not be sure if it was from the hot, muggy air or the fear that was now constricting her throat. But all she heard was the water.
Mahir shifted and blinked. At the tension in Dilras's posture, he jumped up. "What is it?"
"Do you hear anything?"
He held still, and after several moments, said, "Only the water."
"I- I heard voices, or the impression of voices."
He held still again, his head cocked. "I only hear water. Are you sure you heard voices?"
Slowly releasing the hilt of his sword, Dilras began to sit back down, but she still felt like a taut coil, ready to spring. "I thought I was. But I don't hear anything now."
Mahir settled back on the pallet. "You've had a traumatic day. That kind of thing will mess with your mind. Try to get some sleep." His tone was gentle and when he opened his arms to beckon her, she exhaled slowly in an attempt to slow down her still-agitated heart.
"I'll try. I'm going to lie down here, though; it's too hot next to you."
After a brief silence, he responded. "I understand."
Even through the darkness, Dilras could sense his disappointment. She knew he found her attractive, and this wasn't the first time she suspected he desired more than friendship from the man. Throughout their friendship, he had never suggested they be anything more, yet there had been times she had caught his gaze travelling across her body, sometimes lingering on the roundness of her breasts or the curve of her hip. More than once, when he had been working with her on her fighting form, she could feel the evidence of his excitement to be so near her, his hands moving across her arms or placing her hips in the correct position. In fact, there had definitely been times she was sure she hadn't actually needed correction, but he used that as an excuse to share than contact. Yet, even in those moments, he had never let his hands "slip" and had never actually touched her in any way that was inappropriate.
Often, when he had been guarding, and she had been summoned to dance or otherwise entertain the king, the two would exchange knowing looks, sharing their loathing of the man, anxious for the day they would end him. Mahir was a patient teacher as she learned martial skills in secret, and commiserated heartily when she complained about the depraved way the king would subjugate her. When Dilras would rant about her Bhakti ideas and how she interpreted the poems she had learned, Mahir never challenged or disagreed, but would instead share information he had obtained. She trusted him.
Tonight, however, the memory of one evening when she felt someone watching her as she brushed her long, inky hair was preventing her from placing her head back on Mahir's shoulder. He never knew that she had seen him quickly move behind a wall when she turned to the source of the sensation.She had brushed aside the incident, but tonight, she needed to be free from the primal needs of men, especially when the desire was not reciprocated. Thankfully, Dilras knew that he understood, and that he valued their friendship the way she did.
After one more look around, and a few more calming breaths, she laid down. The newly freed woman felt tears welling up once again, and this time, she cried herself to sleep.
No comments:
Post a Comment