Mahmud

Even covered by the conservative clothes of a Kanan woman, Zahra in her human-like form takes my breath away. Zahra's beauty cannot be disguised. She's taken her human form for the first time in two years and I try not to stare at her. Her figured has filled out a bit since the last time I'd gotten a brief glimpse of her.

Her breasts...Gods, her breasts. I find myself imagining what they must look like bared to me.

Snap out of it, Mahmud, lest the gods strike you down for lust and perversion on top of your current offense of wielding magic.

"I'm glad you decided to be human," I say to her, trying to get my mind off my wayward thoughts. We sit in a cantina enjoying a couple drinks together. "You've changed though."

"How so?" Zahra asks, her plump lips quirking at the corner. She raises a mug of Ram's Brew to them and takes a sip. She's told me this is her first time drinking, but it's apparent she's unsure of the taste as her nose wrinkles upon contact. She sets down the mug sticking out her tongue and shaking her head. "That's grosser than I thought it would be."

I know Zahra uses seemingly constant humor to avoid the pain and anger she holds toward those who killed her family.

"You're taller," I say, my voice suddenly hoarse. "Your hair has grown. And you've--uh--filled out."

"I've gotten fat, huh?" Zahra says, scooting the mug an exaggerated distance away from her. "I promise you, I'm thinner than this potato sack makes me look."

I choke on my own drink. Gods, I love her.

"Are you lonely being the last of your kind?" I ask her, taking our conversation to a serious place. I don't normally venture this direction, but for some reason, her in her human form makes me want to press personally into her life.

"Mahmud, I have you," Zahra says, her silky hair cascades away from her soft face, and her hazel eyes flash with mirth, she leans forward and takes my face in her hands, her fingers soft against the sparse grizzle on my face. "You're all the company I need."

That's how I feel! I'm enough for her and she's enough for me.

"I feel lonely sometimes, being the only magi that wasn't offed at their birth," I murmur, my hands ache to pulls her into my embrace, but they remain frozen at my sides. Don't break the ultimate law. The gods may forgive you for the magic, but they most certainly wouldn't forgive you for this.

"Mahmud, can I ask you something?" Zahra asks.

"Yes," I say, not pulling away from her touch.

"How do you put up with it? You're so powerful, but you live in a world where no matter what you achieve, you're an abomination," she says, her brow furrows and she release my face and sits back, reaching for the Ram's brew yet again to take a second sample.

"It's just how things are, since the day I was born," I murmur with a shrug. I don't even want to ponder it either.

"Well, I'm not going to accept that," Zahra says, spitting out her last attempt of Ram's brew. "Yuck, this stuff tastes foul. Why do people seem to enjoy drinking this?"

"It's more the effect from drinking it that they're after," I say dryly. "Hey, we should get you something to wear for the wedding feast. I have some extra money saved."

"You're buying me pretty clothes now?" Zahra raises a dark eyebrow and grins smugly. "Next thing you know you'll be inviting me to sleep in the house with you."

My face heats. "Gods, Zahra, you always say the most improper things." Gods, forgive her, she doesn't know better. She was raised a heathen.

"Do I?" Zahra giggles. "I don't mean to. It's just... does it bother you how they treat females here?"

"What do you mean? They are treated respectfully," I say, taking a long swallow of my own mug.

"Respectfully? They don't have any rights, Mahmud," Zahra objects indifferently. "They are viewed the same as horses. Symbols of status. Why do you think the king has a stable full of horses and women?"

"It's called a harem," I say, rolling my eyes. What happened that caused this chip on her shoulder? "And they are looked after and protected."

"Same as his horses," Zahra growls. "And that includes being used as breeding stock."

"Why do you have such a burr under your saddle about this?" I ask her, cocking my head.

"If you were a female you would too," Zahra mumbles, she takes her fork and plunges it into a steamed juga root. "Besides, you're the only person I talk to. It's not like I have female friends to vent about this sort of thing."

She has a point, about everything. Her quick wit is so unlike what I've been told by my father growing up about women.

"Women are slow and prone to worry. It's best to spend as little time conversing with them as possible else you talk in circles," my father would say with a laugh.

"Do you ever wish you could sleep inside a house instead of in the stable?" I ask Zahra, my hand curling around my mug and eyes fixed on the amber color of my drink. I'm angry my father said things like that, he'd obviously never met Zahra. "It would get a bit conspicuous if my mare didn't stay in the stable, but I believe it might be more comfortable for you, and perhaps we can work things out so that you--"

"Mahmud, I appreciate how considerate you're being, but I too believe it's best to sleep in the stables like the other horses... besides, most of the time we are out working," Zahra says. "Don't feel bad about it. Work has been slow lately, but we can't get careless. Taking me to the wedding is going to be risky."

"But there will be such fine food! They never celebrate a royals consecutive marriages as well as their first!" I object. I really want her there. I don't know why, but I'm determined to have her there with me. How will I introduce her to other people? I don't know, but there is a part of me that wishes I didn't have to leave Zahra in the stables or mares' pasture so much. "You deserve this."

"You win, Mahmud, but I'm not drinking anymore, it's repulsive," Zahra says, gulping down some water. "Can't get the taste off my tongue."