13th century- The Middle East.
In the heart of the Arabian desert, Princess Laila of Al-Shujae tribe faces an impossible choice to save her people from an ongoing siege. To secure peace, Laila agrees to marry the fearsome commander of Al-Muharibun...
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وردةالصحراء
A Desert Rose
Prologue
They all saw the same sky. Painted with the colours of fire; red and orange. A signification of the falling of the sun from the heavens, causing a darkness to surround the desert. Uniformed warriors covered the mountains, ready to attack on command. Only a word stood between the chaos waiting to come, and only a word could stop it.
Devastation was all that filled her senses, heart thumping from fear. The siege had gone on for too long, her people were suffering.
"Laila." The mumbling of her name forced her eyes away from the open window and into the candle lit room. Her handmaiden, Wafiyyah, had entered. A torn expression worn on her face as she looked to the ground.
"They wait for you," the young girl whispered. Laila stepped away from the balcony, approaching her closest friend.
"How far would you go to save your family?" She asked, watching as the handmaiden struggled under her desperate gaze.
"Would you risk your life?" Laila probed, hopelessly sighing when Wafiyyah reluctantly nodded.
The embrace was sudden. "Then my life is yours." The princess murmured, desperately holding onto her companion.
Their walk towards the meeting room was hauntingly slow. Halls which were once full of life now fell silent and bleak. As though even the walls knew they would lose their light.
On this day, she would face a stranger to her eyes. Her own blood, yet he had left her abandoned for too long.
Abu-Al-Khayr, the most respected sheikh of Al-Shujae. And also, her father.
Laila secured a veil over her face as she neared the room which held all the elders of the tribe.
Their enemy had made an offer which only she had the power to accept, an expected proposition from the most powerful in Arabia.
After years of studying war and peace, Laila knew she could only be used as a pawn. Although, her books did fail to describe the inner devastation of the victim.
It was a first for her to be invited to a meeting. A gathering usually only reserved for the elites of the small tribe. Anxiety shackled her as she nodded to the maid, allowing the door to open.
Fingers clenched, Laila silently stepped inside as the chatter quietened.
Speak when spoken to. Do not look up. Silence.
She blinked, eyes bonded to the ground. Her steps were small, approaching a designated position for her behind a sheer curtain. Only after taking a seat on the plush pillow, did Laila finally glance up to the room which had remained forbidden till today.
