Empire of Dreams

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Dawn had arrived behind the Mehmet, in all its horrifying glory.

A single perfect arc performed the execution. First Haleema and then Seif, chopped off with the sun's rays setting fire to the desert sand. The red dawn sky screamed with pain and loss, a fitting end to our journey.

The trip back home was short, crisp and fast. Almost as if we were running away from the truth of what had been discovered that night in the desert.

I sat in my tent, watching Ayesha, who'd joined our party from Tunis, shuffle around with my things. It seemed surreal, just the two of us. She hadn't asked much, but the pain in her eyes was enough to crack open my heart. Haleema had been an important part of routine and an integral part of my life, before I had even consciously recognized it. She'd been there when my own mother had not.

Even with her betrayal, her loss rippled throughout my days.

Afet had become another silent spectator, her pain shining through her eyes. Seif had been one of hers. Her confidant. Her brother. They'd fought together, planned Mehmet's campaign together. The wound he'd given her was going to take some time to heal. 

Mehmet however seemed to have woken up from whatever trance he had been in. He came over every night to hammer out the details of our negotiation, outlining the main points and highlighting the ones he felt the Caliph was going to disagree on. I sat with him, trying my best to guide him, trying to be the moral compass, trying to secure the best deal for both parties.

On the tenth day, Mehmet finally broke. "Maybe we should invite Ali to our meetings. We'll be in Cairo in two days. It'll be better to have an ally on our side."

I didn't look at him, my hands focused on crushing the set of herbs Ayesha had brought over. "You should focus on your case."

He rolled over, his fist placed under his chin and gave me a stern look. "You are my case."

"Mehmet we've been over this. You can not be a good leader if you keep getting distracted with personal issues."

"Says the woman who hasn't spoken to her husband for the past ten days," Eleven, but who was counting?

"Mehmet?"

"Hmm?" He looked at me his feet propped up on the richly appointed cushion of darkest blue near the center.

"Mehmet, Zaynab is..."

"Far more smart and capable then you realize. She's the Caliph's daughter Laila, she was born in a pit of snakes," his lip twisted bitterly. "She knows how to survive. People like you and I are the ones who struggle to find our footing. The ones born on the outside."

I laughed lightly. "You underestimate yourself and me."

"I wish. What your mother did. You and I could never have done that. She rebelled against the very land that had given her protection. Who's going to trust any refugee family now? Who's going to trust you and I?" I blinked back tears. "She didn't stop to consider that she had a family, a young daughter, a loving husband and she faked her death? For what? Power?"

Breathing hard, I fought for control of my churning emotions. "Mehmet... "

"No, let me say this Laila. She faked her death, abandoned you, abandoned us, for her personal gain. Would she have won anything? No. Did she have any plan aside from causing skirmishes? No," he still sounded heated, but there was a new hesitation in his voice.