We'd traveled separately back to the palace, him on his horse and me in my litter with the other royal women. It had been a long time since we'd been back. He should be in his room now. I stared at the screens dividing our chambers—

As if he'd read my mind, they slid open.

"You're dismissed," Ayesha and Haleema bowed their heads and walked out. A chill ran from the nape of my neck to the soles of my feet.

'Your husband is your only ally in this situation Laila. Talk to him. Trust him'

Sanaa's words came back to me and I took a deep breath.

I'd told him. Told him what I'd done to protect him—to protect us—but I'd left him with so many questions. With so many doubts. Would he be angry? He'd listened to me without comment, without any judgment. Would it be the same now?

"Laila," his voice was low and unassuming. Unmistakable.

I met his gaze and everything around me melted away. There was no fear, no worry. No judgment. Only him.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Thank you for trusting me."

"You should have told me about his intentions, Laila. Had I been better informed I would have never left you alone," He pulled me into his chest, a hand tangling through my hair. The beat of his heart rang loud and true against my cheek.

"You didn't. He's had this idea in his head. I've been trying to dissuade him, Baba's talked to him but he just doesn't understand," I exhaled fast only to inhale deep. To breathe in his scent.

"You're helping us. He'll realize that he can't have you. That you're mine," His face solemn, Ali bent toward me, tipping my nose upward with his. "Your information and understanding helped the negotiations. You're very wise, my beautiful wife. Perhaps you should be the General. And leave me to languish in your chamber, until you have need of me."

"Perhaps I should," I said and kissed his jaw."Why is the Caliph sending us to Morroco Ali?" He sighed, long and low, pulling away. "Is he sending us there because of the Byzantine influence or is there something more?"

"I don't know. Baba hasn't clarified," I sighed, Ali would not run from his obligations. That much had been quite evident to me, as I'd seen time and time again. "It's an imperial order."

"How long would it take us?"

"Forty to fifty days in total."

"What?"

"We'll have to stop at different places along the way," Ali sank into the ivory silk cushion, pulling me along with him. I nodded as he untied the string holding my hair together. Sweeping it away, he placed a gentle kiss on the nape of my neck. "Baba's sending Khalid back to Damascus. He wants Amina to have her child there."

"Is this your life? Not knowing where you'll be sent at a moment's notice?" Even in the weak light from the lamps, I saw Ali's face soften.

He kissed the top of my head.

"Every part of us is tied to the Caliphate. We exist for the betterment of the Caliphate," I placed my palm against his cheek, watching his eyes close.

"It sounds so... "

"Constraining?" I nodded. "It is."

Picking up the discarded brush from the vanity, he moved it down the length of my hair. I sighed, relaxing against his chest.

"I am glad of one thing."

"What's that?" His lips were at my ear, nibbling.

"This time, I won't have to wait for you," His chest moved with quiet laughter.

"That's the only thing I'm glad of. Having you with me. Otherwise, I would have gone insane."

I turned around to look at him, placing my hands on his shoulders. We shared a look that felt deeply intimate in the deep shadows of the evening and the glancing moonlight. A look of understanding. Of mutual trust and respect. Of budding hope.

Nothing really mattered when I was with him.

His lips fluttered over mine, and it was exactly what I wanted. My whole body was immediately awash with a rush of excitement and pleasure that ran down my spine and dispersed to so many other parts.

I was never going to get tired of this. Of him.

I started to wrap one of my legs around him, trying to get in a better position, when he suddenly stood up, holding me in his arms, not breaking the kiss and taking me to our bed.

The following morning was spent preparing for the trip. Ali had busied himself with his meetings, promising to have lunch with me, while I organized the things needed for our journey.

Zaynab and my handmaidens moved around putting every scandalous piece of clothing I owned into the trunk. I rolled my eyes at their efforts.

Ali hardly needed any more encouragement.

Seeing my bored expression Zaynab decided to take me out for a walk. We moved around in the gardens until she was called away. Looking at the sun I decided I had some time and so I started to head towards the library, thinking of asking Jamshed for books about the Morrocans and their history.

A thin stream of grey clouds drifted above the empty courtyard, moving too fast for comfort, yet too slow to convey anything of significance. Maybe there was another storm on the horizon.  I was never good at reading the weather.

"It was you wasn't it?" I whirled around in shock not expecting to hear his voice.

Though his words were clipped and precise, Mehmet's features were haggard. I stared at him, unperturbed.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Weariness pooled in the shadows beneath his eyes. Weariness tinged by fury.

"He could not have had that information Laila. You turned the tide. They were ready to let go. To save their disintegrating Empire. To clutch at whatever we gave them. But you, oh I knew you were smart, but to go against me? Us? Your family?"

"Mehmet, are you okay? Have you slept?" Concern zinged through me. He looked, unhinged.

"Don't pretend to worry about me, Laila. You never did, it was all a game to you."

"It was never a game Mehmet. I'm trying to avoid a war and protect you."

"Liar," I flinched back, tears gathering in my eyes. He'd never talked to me this way, with such venom in his voice. Such hatred.

I started to walk away when Mehmet bounded towards me and took hold of my forearm. I braced herself for the coming fight, my toes curled and my knuckles clenched.

"Let go of me!"

"Tell me why Laila!"

"I would advise you to listen to her," a quietly thunderous voice called out.

Ali.

He strode closer, aiming a quelling stare in Mehmet's direction. "I will not repeat myself Mehmet. Let go of my wife."

He released me with reluctance and I shoved off his grasp. Steeling, I squared my shoulders, and faced him.

"This doesn't concern you," Mehmet growled out.

"Anything that concerns my wife, concerns me." Ali was at my side now, his face hard as if it had been carved out of stone. Not a single muscle twitched in his face. He looked hard and unforgiving. But his eyes. His eyes were ablaze and furious.

"Why don't we settle this? Man to man?"

"What? No!" I cried out stepping between them.

"Don't be a fool," Ali said, stepping in front of me. "She doesn't want you to see you get hurt."

"Are you jealous?" Mehmet called out, loud enough to echo across the courtyard.

People were now starting to stop and stare.

Ali gathered Zulfiqar in his left hand in a single, fluid motion and placed it on the ground. "I don't feel jealous. I feel rage."

Mehmet's brows shot into his forehead. "And here I was on the cusp of believing you might not be a monster."

"I'm my father's son—a monster by blood and by right." Ali's voice remained cool, despite the heat of his words. "I do not make empty threats. You would do well to remember that."

"You've just made my task easier," Mehmet said viciously and took out his sword.

"I will not fight you Mehmet. I don't fight men who're incapable of rational thought."

At that, Mehmet reared back and punched Ali in the face.

I shrieked out loud when he struck him.

A second later, Ali pushed himself up to his knees . . .

And launched into Mehmet's torso.

They landed in the dirt like two angry schoolboys, in a jumble of arms and legs. Ali lobbed a fist in Mehmet's direction, even while struggling to right himself.

It glanced off Mehmet's jaw.

In a second, Ali had shoved the side of my cousin's face into the dirt and pressed a knee to Mehmet's stomach. He managed to land several unforgiving blows to Mehmet's head and chest before Mehmet kicked him off, spitting a mouthful of blood.

Still pumped by Mehmet's attack, Ali rolled over to stand and reached for his sword.

Mehmet's eyes went wide. Then, without a second thought, he scrambled to his feet and unsheathed his scimitar.

"Draw!" A line of crimson dripped down his chin.

"Mehmet," I cried out. "No."

Ali's fingers tightened around the hilt. Yet he refused to unsheathe.

"Draw," Mehmet taunted.

"Listen to her Mehmet. She doesn't want to see you get hurt," Ali's response was immediate, his posture unyielding.

"Mehmet you're being unreasonable," I said placing a hand on Ali's back. He leaned into the touch, his body rigid and poised to attack.

"This ends today," Mehmet snarled, his hand clenched around his sword.

"Do you know how many times I could have killed you, Mehmet? My father would have killed you simply for looking at Laila the way you do. For myself, I would have killed you. But for her, I won't." Ali countered, his eyes hard.

Mehmet's eyes merely constricted at the edges. Undoubtedly weighing his options. Or forming his strategy.

His eyes flicked to me, to my hand placed on Ali's waist and he cursed, turning his back on us and stomping his way towards the guest wing.

Ali looked at me and I took in a deep breath, his fingers floating over my bruised wrist.

"Our room," he muttered, clasping my hand in his and leading me towards our chambers.

The trip back was thankfully uneventful. The brisk walk seemed to be the hardest thing I'd ever had to do. The guards outside the room gaped, openmouthed but Ali waved their concern away.

Ali turned to me, his gentle hands circling my slim wrist. "Does it hurt?"

"No," He moved to get an ointment but I pushed him back onto the bed. I got some water and a clean cloth. He watched me, not interrupting the process, understanding why I needed to do this.

I came back and sat between his knees, placing the bowl on the ground, wringing the excess water out of the cloth. Grabbing his hands, I started to wipe off the blood on his knuckles. I concentrated on the task at hand, feeling his eyes on me. "Are you okay?" Shifting my fingers to the newest cuts on his hands, I kissed his palm, worry gnawing in my stomach.

He turned his palm away, his fists clenching, steadying his rage. "I'm fine. Have your handmaidens packed your things?"

I stood up, placing the bowl on the low table and moving towards him. "All ready," he nodded, his hands moving to my waist, drawing me towards him, placing his head on my stomach, breathing in my scent. My fingers moved in his hair, loving the feel of the soft strands.

"He'll pay for that," I opened my mouth to argue. "Don't defend him, Laila."

"I agree, but he needs to be dealt with in a tactful manner," he raised his gaze to meet mine. "Think of the bigger picture."

"Now you sound like my father," he muttered. I swallowed a giggle, I didn't think he was trying to be funny. "He better hope he doesn't see me for the rest of the day."

For his sake, I desperately hope not.

I wrapped the cloth around my finger, placing it gently on his split lip and then his jaw. Ali stayed still, his eyes drinking me in, his body still coiled for a fight. I reached up to trace the mark on his collarbone, placing a light kiss on his temple.

My fingers moved to his collar, pulling him closer, trying to lighten his mood. "I've never been outside of Cairo," he nodded, his mind still intent on murderous thoughts. I bit my lip. "I may have packed a few surprises for the trip."

He turned his head towards me, his eyes brightening with a mischievous glint and a flush rose in my cheeks. This man had a one-track mind. "I can't wait."

Cheeks still heated, I pushed him onto his back. He let me fuss over him, his body relaxing at my touch. Gathering the covers, his hand wrapped around my waist, holding me close. I snuggled in closer, lightly grazing my fingers against his arm to get him to sleep.

This was going to be a wild forty days.

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Any guesses on what's going to happen? How do you like the progression of Ali and Laila's relationship? Was she right to trust him? Should you trust your husbands?  (This is turning into an academic discussion 🙈)