He stiffened above me, his warm breath against my lips as he closed his eyes. A growl of frustration rumbled from deep within the Prince's throat, the sound strangely animalistic.

Goosebumps pimpled my skin.  Thoughts oddly slow and skin humming, I blinked. Dark hair fell forward onto his forehead. His features were shadowed in the soft, flickering light, but I thought his lips looked as swollen as mine felt.

"My Prince?" A male voice rang out. "Are you in there? It's Hamza." The man called out a name I didn't recognize.

"As if I didn't know that already," Prince Alizayd muttered under his breath, and a small giggle left me. His eyes opened, and a half-grin appeared. "This better be important," then he shifted off me, standing, picking up his qamis from the floor, his long legs carrying him towards his room.

I sat up, my mind in a whirl. The Prince was completely unexpected. The gentleness, the understanding...another contradiction in his character.

White material nearly transparent, my cheeks flushed hotly as I scooted off the bed and stood in front of my reflection, on surprisingly weak knees. My gaze lifted to the wooden screen acting as a door, and I closed my eyes, unsure if I was disappointed or relieved by the interruption. I moved towards the water pitcher, pouring myself a glass, trying to control myself.

"Well? What is it?" the words were an impatient snap. I gulped the water down, trying to find evidence of the gentleman who was wreaking havoc on my senses only minutes ago.

"Apologies my prince. The Turkish rebel group has been causing problems at the border. A missive has arrived with the news," my ears perked up and I shuffled closer to hear better.

"What is it?" his voice sounded clearer, more focused.

"He's waiting for you in your office," Silence followed his words, and I hurriedly seated myself on the bed, trying to act nonchalant. My hand crept up to my lips, remembering the feeling of his lips on mine. His lips on my neck, his hands in my hair... someone cleared their throat and I jumped.

My husband's brows lifted as the haze cleared from my thoughts, a slight smirk on his swollen lips. Heart skipping around in my chest, I clutched the covers tight to my body, needing physical protection from his intense gaze.

"I will have to leave... there's a pressing issue," I nodded, trying to control my emotions. He came closer, kneeling down to my level, his hand cupping my cheek. Sparks zinged through his fingers dancing over my skin. My lips parted and his thumb swiped over my bottom lip, his gaze dark.

"My Prince?" he groaned again, throwing a venomous look at the direction of the voice and I blushed.

"Till tomorrow," He got up, grabbed his turban, pressed his fingers to his eyebrow, and left. A sign of respect. I stared at his back, touched, and confused by the action.

What was this man? Who was this man? Everything about him was inconsistent.

Feeling completely out of my depth, I snuggled into the covers, thoroughly confused. My eyes fluttered to a close as I tried to make sense of his actions, thinking of a game plan to gain my footing in the palace.

Morning came with more problems and no answers.

The Caliph had sent an invitation for a family lunch. It was an unusual request but not unheard of. I chewed on my lip, worried about the reasons for such a decision.

Ayesha and Haleema eased the weighty garment onto my shoulders and I studied the finished product in the mirror before me. My midnight tresses gleamed like polished obsidian, and brown eyes were edged in alternating strokes of black kohl and liquid.

I looked exquisite, prized. Like how my husband had made me feel last night. My cheeks heated up once again as the memory of his touch resurfaced. I'd been prepared for everything but that. His touch had ignited a fire in me that I did not think existed.

I did not miss the smug look shared by two ladies in waiting. Ignoring their knowing looks, I focused on adjusting my dress.

"You have done well,"

"Thank you Shehzadi. Hamza, the Prince's personal guard brought this over in the morning," I gawked at the jewel-encrusted behemoth held out in front of me. Sapphires glinted in the afternoon sun and I swallowed.

"I don't wear necklaces," I said when Ayesha began to fasten it around my throat.

"It is a gift from the Prince, Shehzadi. You must wear it."I stared down at Ayesha in amused disbelief. She took my silence as a yes and continued her work.

"Oh, and he brought this with it," Haleema uttered, handing me a small piece of parchment.

'Please accept this small gift for the luncheon today.

                                  Prince Alizayd'

Brief and to the point. I sighed. Seemed like I did not have a choice.

A contingent of guards escorted me to the open gardens on the other side of the palace. Both Ayesha and Haleema were part of the escort, giggling, and whispering different tidbits of information in my ears. Apparently, only the immediate family was supposed to be at the luncheon. I could expect the Caliph and his wife, his second son and his wife, his daughter, and my husband.

My heart looped in my chest. I had not grown up in court, my father despised royal life. The irony of the situation did not escape me. Royal protocol aside, I had no idea how I would be received. A stranger. A daughter of an Emir who shared the blood of the rebel Turks. Married to a Prince. In less than a day.

Questions were sure to be raised.

Ayesha and Haleema took their leave, muttering good luck and gliding off into the corridor. My heart sank. I needed an iron will to face this. I missed having Sanna by my side, she would have known exactly what to say.

The two guards at the entryway bowed and uncrossed their spears. Taking a deep breath, I stepped out into the gardens, praying to God I wasn't eaten alive.

The entrance of the Caliph's gardens was surrounded by a verdant jungle of exotic trees that were brought from the new countries captured by the expanding kingdom, complete with hooting monkeys and shrieking mynah birds. A covered marble pavilion lined with swings overlooked the rushing canal, that bloomed with pink lotuses floating in the cool waters, shimmering in the sunlight. Shade was provided by trees and grapevines winding and supported between columns.

The air was heavy with the fragrance of the flowers and the trees. I smiled gently, remembering one of Mother's stories. Gardens were one of the most frequent settings of Egyptian romantic tales. I sighed, hoping it didn't become a disaster in my case.

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A shorter chapter, but the next one is going to be so much fun! Let me know what you think!