The Desert Falcon

Chapter 12, The Captive Falcon

"I am filled with joy, your highness, that you have recovered so quickly," Emir Mashir praised. He was situated on the floor, his legs crossed as he took a bite out of a sweet pastry.  A look of glee crossed his features, no doubt relishing his good fortune in being blessed with the Sultan's presence along with Sheikh Malik, despite the tenuous circumstance that had necessitated their unexpected stay here. 

Emir Mashir was eager to use every opportunity he could to advance his own political ambitions.  I could not decide whether his sycophantic behavior was pathetic or sickening with his ostentatious display.  After all, he did not normally employ the entirety of his household staff in ensuring that our guests' desires were met. It was a combination of honored hospitality coupled with the need to show off his wealth that made the entire show so farcical that I could not contain my contempt for it.  However, it did not escape me that any other household would do the same should they be greeted by the Sultan himself and his cousin.  However, my animosity and ill-will towards the Sultan outweighed the rationale to see Emir Mashir's accomodations as anything but too much towards a man who might or might not be hunting me down if only to punish me for escaping.

 "You are truly blessed by Allah!" Emir Mashir commented.

Sheikh Rashid lounged among the colorful array of cushions and pallets, as the servants around him attended to his every whim. His expression remained stoic, almost indifferent, but I carefully observed his sitting posture, as if to ease the soreness and any muscle pain he might have encountered in the desert stranded and unconscious as he was earlier. I had no idea if he was in pain from his ordeal, but he appeared to be in good health. Sheikh Malik was also present, sitting adjacent to him, looking thoughtful.  Unlike the Sultan, he acknowledged Emir Mashir's good tidings. The Sultan looked less than pleased by his ostentatious show of flattery. 

The three of them languished in the sitting room as the afternoon began to wane away into evening. I stood against the wall, beside the other servants, disguised with the cover around me. Emir Mashir had commanded that all household staff be present to serve the three of them tea and pastries, with evening meal to soon follow. No expense was spared as the finest of china and food was brought out. I grew steadily nervous, but the nerves were tempered readily, when none of the occupants in the room seemed to pay any attention to any of the household staff. We were just part of the decorations of the freshly-dusted and organized sitting room.

"Thank you Emir Mashir," Sheikh Rashid answered, his voice low. The rich deep baritone sent a shiver through my body, a reminder of his potent masculinity. "I am most grateful that you have provided your home as a place of refuge."

"It is of no trouble," Emir Mashir said jovially. "It is not every day we are greeted with your presence."

Sheikh Malik's eyes traveled over to me and I held my breath in fear, recognizing that he was aware that I was in the room.  There were others who were equally covered, but with my height, I stood out. Sheikh Malik took a sip of whatever was in his goblet and immersed himself in the conversation.  He could not have recognized me and I prayed he did not.  Perhaps, he pondered at something before quickly dismissing the thought.  Still, his scrutiny was a stark reminder to limit my presence among them.

My most pressing concern remained with the sultan. Did he recognize me? I would hope not. I was scared the sultan would know of my whereabouts here, but he did not seem to acknowledge my presence at all.

"We will be heading back to the palace in two or three days' time. Amar is insistent that I take time to recover," Sheikh Rashid spoke.

"My home is at your disposal. You are more than welcome to stay for as long as you require," Emir Mashir added.