Prince of Knights (An Arabic Love Story)✓

Prince of Knights Chp37

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"No night is long enough for us to dream twice." Mahmoud Darwish.

Faris ran a hand down his face as he stepped out of the tent he was with Raghad. For a man of his rank, a man who was known to be a barbarian, it was arduous for him to regulate his anger. When Khalid had attempted to kill him Faris saw red. He could not think straight, all that mattered back then was to annihilate. Faris was recognized for a man who is impartial, and it is only just if he kills Khalid for the fatal endeavor he performed on his sister's spouse. He looked over his shoulder towards the tent then sighed. If only the naïve woman inside knew how difficult it was for him, how hard it was to not kill every individual in this tribe. The groom attempted to remain tranquil with her, but knowing Raghad and her temperament she had the guts to raise her hand on a man, warriors feared to duel or confront.

That loss of control now flared in his heart, he was not a man who would injure a woman, however, he did and because of that Faris did not know how to breathe or how to dwindle the ache in his chest. Why on earth did that woman with doe-like eyes urge a different human within him to surface and take over his form? He flexed his injured arm and hissed as pain shot up like a thunderbolt. Suddenly, his eyes landed on a group of men making their way towards a tent, in front of them was Badr who had a strong grasp on his brother, Khalid's forearm. Faris straightened his spine and observed as the men entered the tent aside from Badr who stood outside clearly waiting and searching for the knight of Knights.

Faris clenched his jaw and moved forward. This was the moment where he would reverse the fates of their tribes. If he convicts Khalid then another bloodbath will result, all his efforts will perish and his father, Sheikh Mubarak will attain what he desired for, a war so vicious, untamed that it will terminate the Rashideen tribe or perhaps both of the tribes. He ran his tongue over his chapped lips in utter contemplation. If he does not condemn Khalid tribesmen around the wilderness will no longer recognize Faris as a peril. In fact, they will defy him, they will jest over his name the name he created with downright exertion and gore.

Badr turned around to glance towards Faris almost as if knowing that the man stood there. As he made his way to Badr the groom passed by an old man who sat on a broken tree trunk with a thin cane in hand and recited a verse from the Quran. Once done the children who sat in front of the old man with crossed feet recited the same verse loudly. Listening to that his wrath pacified and a throbbing vein in his neck subdued. Faris slowed his steps yearning to listen to the next verse the old man had to teach his students. He wanted to tame his rage and not make any mistakes that would produce further misfortune than what has already transpired.

As Faris was a good few feet away from Badr the man pivoted around to enter the tent. The knight mirrored Badr's action and strolled into the tent to be welcomed by a congregation of almost thirty men. Badr sat in a position that separated the crowd into two sections making him the center of attention. Faris's eyes took in the empty space alongside his brother-in-law and knew it was his place beside Badr. The knight tilted his head and glared at Khalid who sat on his knees in the middle of the gathering, the man he desired to butcher. "As Salamu Alaykum," Faris greeted and made his way to Badr as the men around him replied.