I stepped back as he advanced, fear making me irrational.

Your husband is not a forgiving man.
Your husband is not an easy man.
He'll skin us alive.

"We have to go now!" Ali barked out, his eyes hard, his fingers around my wrist. I nodded, panic robbing my ability to speak. My heart thrashed like crazy when I felt the strength and anger in his grip.

Misreading the situation, a young man leapt from behind a stall to wrap me in a cloth of bright orange silk. "So beautiful!" he sighed. "You must buy this. It suits you so," I flinched back just as Ali whipped out his sword, its silver edge glistening with menace, the promise of death lurking in his eyes.

"Get away from my wife," my eyes widened at the extreme reaction and I instinctively placed my hand on his arm. His head whipped to the side, and I gave him a calming albeit questioning glance.

The young man's face turned white and he stepped back, mumbling apologies.

Fear licked at my throat, and warmth tickled the skin on my arms. Gone was the compassionate man who'd entertained my requests. I was facing a General, a war veteran, a hard man.

He didn't spare the boy a glance. He put the sword back in its Niyam, and tugged me along, dragging me to the back alleys, below the cool shade. He was making sure to stay near the walls, his body alert, and his eyes scanning his surroundings.

I decided to open my mouth. "What's wrong? Where are Ayesha and Haleema? Hamza?"

"Waiting," came a curt reply.

Cold fear skittered down my back. This wasn't good. For the first time, I started to regret my actions. I was ready to face the consequences but what about Sanaa? Ayesha? Haleema? Even poor Hamza. They didn't have to suffer. Shame spread through my body.

I'd been thoughtless, reckless, and selfish. I should've told him the truth. The worst he could have done is said no. I could have found a way around that.

Ali paused. His eyes, which were usually vigilant, appeared even more watchful than before. He moved us to the wall, making sure to keep me covered behind him.

My eyebrows shot up. We were hiding from someone.

An arrow zipped past my shoulder and I screamed. Ali cursed and tugged me along, trying to find a shelter. A sharp burn sang its way through my body and I stumbled from the unexpected pain.

"Get out of the way!" I cried as we dodged past a vendor's cart, my sandaled feet flying above the dirt.

The sound of our pursuers only spurring me faster, especially with Ali's broader strides propelling us along the narrow thoroughfare of the Bazaar.

Suddenly, he yanked me down a small side alleyway, making sure to cover my body with his. He wrapped his right arm around me and pressed our bodies together in between a shadowed alcove.

I was caged in with his body.

"What is..." he shoved his index finger onto my lips, glaring at me. I glared back, seeing my reflection in a mirror behind him.

The hood of my scarf had fallen away, and my hair was in disarray, tumbling around my shoulders, gleaming in the sunlight. My chin was thrust forward in a universal sign of defiance, my shoulders stiff and straight, and my chest rising and falling with fear swelling beneath my cloak.

My left shoulder sported a small cut, blood seeping through the fabric. Ali's eyes narrowed and he untied his turban, using it to cover the wound, binding it to stop the flow of blood.

I looked at his handy work with a physician's eye. Very efficient and tidy. Not bad.

He shifted, his body pressing into mine, his finger still on my lips. I was all too aware of his touch to fully process what I felt. As he placed his palm against the side of my face, I realized something.

I wanted to kiss him.

I mentally smacked myself. We were in a marketplace. Running from someone. I had an arrow wound.

Maybe that was why my traitor heart thudded against his. In these moments, I needed to feel alive. To be needed and wanted.

I peered up at him through my eyelashes. His eyes darkened, the sunlight catching on the gold specks in their depths. Every muscle in my body seemed to tense with a heady mix of panic and anticipation. There was intent in the way his lashes lowered, and how he leaned in. My lips parted and my eyes widened.

He was going to kiss me.

My breath caught and my heart thumped. Slowly, his fingers tunneled into my hair and he dragged my mouth to his. He dipped his head and touched his lips firmly to mine. Pressing my hands against his chest, I rose up to meet him.

I yielded to the moment and to the man. He deepened the kiss, one hand stroking down the curve of my waist, the other tangled in my hair. I melted into him, welcoming the hardness of his body pressed to mine. The feel of him moving against me, of him holding me close.

There was a possessiveness to his kiss, to his hand on my back, molding me closer. I felt like he'd set me ablaze. I was wanted, needed. His mouth craving mine, moving desperately, claiming me.

A moan sounded and I didn't realize it had been mine until he rumbled his approval, his chest vibrating against my fingers.

Remotely, I registered voices sounding somewhere nearby, and some tiny part of my mind started to sound alarm bells. Ali snapped up, his lips leaving mine, his eyes alert, hand on the hilt of his sword.

Five men, dressed in black, their faces covered, swords in hand advanced towards us. I stepped back, dazed, searching for a weapon.

"Stay back," Ali warned. I didn't know who the warning was for. I didn't step back, neither did the five men.

We were surrounded.

"Who are you?" Ali demanded. They didn't answer, moving closer. Dear God, what had we stepped into?  "Answer me," a shiver ran through me at his tone. Hard, demanding. Unyielding.

My hands closed around a broken vendor stall and I picked at one of the sturdier pieces of wood, brandishing it in front of me.

Not that I had a chance, I thought bitterly. All of the men here were expert swordsmen. I was just a privileged, overprotected girl.

Ali circled the men, moving us away from the wall and in the middle of the alleyway. With a flash, I realized what he wanted me to do.

"This is it then," he muttered and bounded forward with Allah's name on his lips.

I turned around and ran.

I zig-zagged my way out into the streets, panting from the effort. People moved out of the way, the midday rush making it hard to navigate properly. I yelped in pain when someone grabbed my left arm and pulled me into one of the houses on the side.

Cursing, I collapsed on the dusty floor.

"We don't want to hurt you, Princess," a smooth, cold voice, snaked over my ears. I sat back, moving my hair out of my face."We're the same, you and I."

I looked up to see a tall well-built woman, with a fearsome posture, standing right in front of the doorway, blocking the single source of light. "The wound in my arm would disagree"

"Sorry about that"

I sighed. "I could've died"

"The arrow wasn't meant for you," I glared at the silhouette.

"You wanted to injure my husband. What a way to start a friendship."

"More than that, we want an alliance. We mean no harm to you, Princess Laila." I raised a quizzical brow. She continued. "We want you to join our cause/"

"To betray my husband?"

"Who murdered our people," my stomach clenched.

"It was a war."

"How long have you been married to him? You've barely known him for a week, we've known him for years. He's a monster."

"People are rarely angels."

Shouts echoed and I heard someone approach.

"Think about it, Your Highness. You are Mehmet's queen and our leader. The Seljuk's will come after you. Will you stand against your people? Your mother's tribe?"

"Who are you?"

"Your mother was working for us. If you want to know about her death, how she truly died, tell your handmaiden to send us a message, we'll find you"

"My handmaiden?" She nodded and walked right out into the street. I got up and limped after her, trying to catch a glimpse of anything memorable, such as a facial feature or clothing.

She had disappeared into the Friday crowds.

I stood near the entryway, leaning against the limestone walls, my mind running in a million directions. How my mother died? But that was ten years ago! And what did she mean that I was their leader? And which handmaiden?

"Princess!" I jerked up to see Ali and Hamza jogging towards me, their faces filled with worry. Ali grabbed my arms and pulled me close, his breath in my hair, his arms wrapped around me.

I stood still. "Are you alright?" He was so close, his words were more breath than sound in my ear.

He's a murderer. He's a monster. The words bounced around and I stepped away, trying to get some space.

"I'm fine Ali," I snapped, agitated. His eyes widened and I bit my tongue. Why oh why...

"And what should I call you?" His voice came out soft and rough at the same time, sandpaper with a silk caress I felt from head to toe.

I swallowed. I could still feel his lips on mine, his hands in my hair. What had my father pushed me into? "Laila. Just Laila,"

The rest of the time passed in a blur. Ali forced us to take a longer, safer route to the Palace, so when we got back, the sun had already started to settle. Ayesha and Haleema, who had been sent to the Palace the moment Ali had thought something was amiss, met us at the entrance, their eyes downcast.

I stared at them, not wanting to believe that one of them was a spy. One of them could have been the reason for Ali's death.

Making sure to keep my expression blank, Ali and I walked through the Palace, to meet the Caliph. I was surprised to note that Ali now walked firmly in my shadow, his hand grazing my lower back, his action protective.

Guards bowed their heads along the way and we were immediately led to the Caliph's private study. I sat back after the initial conversation, letting my husband do the storytelling.

His words were clipped and brief.

"How many men?" Khalid asked, his face hard.

Ali's eyes glittered with something akin to hunger. "Five at the same time. Two in the way," he killed seven of those men? By himself? In less than ten minutes? Khalid grunted. "We also captured one. He's in the dungeons"

My head shot up. "What does he say? Why did he do this?" The Caliph asked, stretching his legs, his eyes sharp.

"He's part of the movement to get the Seljuk heirs back on the throne"

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