There is nothing in this story that's not a dagger.

— Mikko Harvey

Eskander

"That boy took my sword."

"Who?"

"That boy with the big head."

He narrows his eyes at her. Her hair is sticking out of her braids, as if someone has pulled it.

"Did you fight again?"

"He fought me!" she defends.

"You can take my sword," he offers.

"No!" she whines, stomping her foot. "Joojoo gave me that sword. I'll only play with his sword."

"Nour--"

"Baba told us to take care of each other. I'll tell baba you're a bad brother!" She sniffs, covering her eyes. "You cannot bring my sword from the big head boy."

He watches her shed a few tears and quibble incoherently over her sword before he grabs her hand and shushes her.

"Fine, don't cry. Let us go get your sword."

She perks up instantly and grins through her tears. "He ran away there." She points in the direction, leading him along. "Call your friend, Esh-kander."

"Who?"

"Magic prince."

"Why?"

"Because he has magic!" She giggles, as if he is stupid for not understanding. "He will vanish the big head boy with magic so he never takes my sword again."

"He will not take your sword again," he assures her.

"Really?"

He nods.

"Will you beat him up?" she suggests hopefully. "You're taller than him. He will be scared of you. And you're going to be a soldier. Soldiers are strong. Are you strong, Esh-kander?" she rambles.

He only nods again in reply.

Her grins widens. "I am happy you are with me. You're a good brother!" she exclaims in joy. "I will take care of you too."

She frees her hand from his and runs towards a group of boys. He rushes after her. She yells at them in warning.

"Give me back my sword or my brother will beat you! He's a soldier!"

He stares out through the window of the infirmary with thoughts somewhere faraway-- absent-minded, lost. He has been standing on the same spot for God knows how long, leaning against the wall, legs becoming numb now. The day is half gone and evening is soon to set in. A few candles light the room faintly where he's waiting. His eyelids flutter close, tired.

A whimper across the room brings him back to the present. He opens his eyes again, dragging his gaze to the source of the voice. Laleh tries to calm his mother.

"Amme (aunt), she will be fine," she tries to console her, rubbing her back, speaking in hushed whispers. "The physician said her injury isn't major."

But his mother continues to sob quietly.

He pushes himself off the wall and walks towards them. Laleh looks up at him, giving him a forlorn look. He sits besides his mother.

"Maman, don't cry." He puts his arm around her and she leans into him. He hugs her to himself and she releases another sob. "Don't cry," he repeats, feeling his heart constricting.

"My daughter is hurting. How do I not hurt?" she asks him.

"She's fine. She'll recover. But she'll hurt only if she learns you cry like this."

But her tears continue to fall. He pulls away from her and frowns, wiping her face with the pads of his thumbs.

"Madar (mother), don't," he forbids more firmly. "I hurt too."

She looks at him through glossy eyes, and he gazes at her with tenderness, voice going soft.

"Go home."

"No--"

"Please," he insists. "I'll bring her home once she wakes up and feels better."

"I'll stay," his mother refuses. "You go find who did this to your sister and make them pay," she utters in half rage, half pain.

He doesn't argue with her anymore and turns to his wife. "Return home, Laleh. We'll be back soon."

"But I want to stay with you all here."

"This is an infirmary, not an inn. We cannot all stay here."

"Your husband is right," his mother agrees with him. "You need to rest, azizem. Go, it's not good to tire yourself."

Laleh turns to him to object, but closes her mouth against his stern look. He has a lot on his mind. Additional worry will only keep him from doing what he can to help the situation.

"Come."

He stands up and offers her his hand. She takes it without any further protest and follows him outside. Azar comes to him when he sees them.

"Take her home safely," he instructs. "I've already asked Hafez to send more guards. Stay alert and send me a messenger if need be. I'll be back soon."

Azar tips his head. "As you say, agha."

He turns his attention back to Laleh and finds her features tense and troubled and her eyes full of concern. He squeezes her hand in assurance and smiles down at her faintly.

"Do not fret. All will be well."

"I'm scared, Eskander," she admits quietly, glancing around nervously. "I want to be with you. I don't want to be alone."

"I'll return to you soon, janem." He cups her face and places a quick kiss on her forehead. "Azar and Roya will be with you. Don't be scared. Nothing will happen to you. I leave you in God's protection."

She swallows and nods, returning his smile weakly. "I leave you in God's protection too."

His hand subtly drops from her face to her belly, briefly glimpsing down before he let go of her.

"Take care, of yourself and my child."

"Take care of yourself for us too," she says back.

He watches her walk away with Azar and get into the carriage. He catches one last sight of her before the carriage rolls away. Waiting until he can no more see of it, he comes back inside the infirmary.

His mother is still sitting on the same spot but at least she is no more crying. He goes to sit beside her again and she puts her head on his shoulder. He circles his arm around her, drifting down the memory lane again.

"What happened to your cheek?" His mother asks him, touching the bruise there. He grimaces in pain. She studies him with worry. "Did you fight someone?"

He doesn't answer, pursing his lips, and Noura tries to hide behind him with her sword. Their mother looks at her knowingly.

"Nour, did you create trouble again?"

"The bad boy pulled my hair, maman!" she exclaims in her defense. "He took my sword!"

"Nour." Their mother sighs in exasperation before looking back at him. "Eskander, tell me what happened."

"Some boys took her sword. I asked back for it but they fought me," he replies, a little abashed but honest. "So I beat them up," he says, lowering his eyes.

"We beat them together, maman," Noura fills her cheerfully, now coming out from behind him. "They hit Esh-kander on the cheek so I hit them with my sword. I hit them until they ran away!"

"Nour," their mother reprimands. "You don't hit anyone with your sword. You can injure them." She pauses as their father enters the room. "Saud, marhaba," she greets.

"Thank you."

Noura runs to him with arms open. "Baba! A boy at the palace pulled my hair and took my sword. Esh-kander brought it back but they fought us. He hit Esh-kander so we hit him too. Maman is scolding us. But you told us to take care of each other. I was only helping Esh-kander beat them up," she chatters breathlessly until her father picks her up in his arms and walks towards them.

"Salam, baba jan," he greets with a smile and Saud smiles back at him, leaning down to pick him up in his other arm.

"Salam, farzand." He kisses both him and Noura on the cheeks, then moves forward to kiss his wife as well on her forehead. "Why do you scold my children, habibti?"

She shakes her head at them. "Did you not hear, hamsar? Your children beat other children at the palace. Someone is going to complain to Ameer Khalid that the children of his vizier are mischief-makers."

"They pulled my hair and hit Esh-kander on the cheek." She points at his bruise to get her father's favor and attention. "We were taking care of each other."

Saud chuckles lightly. "So you remember my advise. Good. But can I tell you something else too?"

"Yes, baba jan," he answers, while Noura simply blinks at him.

"Take care of others as you take care of each other if you want your Lord to be happy with you. And He will take care of you if you cannot take care of each other some day."

He takes in the words quietly, while Noura blinks again in response. Saud smiles and kisses her head. Then turns to him.

"Do you understand, farzand?"

He nods. "I understand, baba jan."

He kisses him on the head too.

"Noura, Eskander, you're the light of my life. May my Lord make your life brighter than the sun."

The darkness has begun to slip in. He inhales slowly before releasing the breath. His mother keeps her head over his shoulder. He calls to her softly.

"Maman?"

She only hums in response.

"I will go see her. Do you want to come with me?"

"I've seen her in blood. And I've seen them searing her. I'll see her only when she opens her eyes so my heart can rest."

Silently, she pulls away from him, allowing him to go. Eskander closes his eyes, gathering himself before he stands up and walks towards the other side of the room where a door leads to an adjacent room. He knocks on it gently, and a female physician opens it for him. He gets inside.

She lies on a bed, still, pale, almost lifeless. He fists his hands and moves closer until he's right beside her. Slowly, he lowers himself to his knees.

"Nour," he whispers, as if afraid of waking her up, but wanting her to wake up. Eskander flicks his tongue to moisten his dry lips. "Nour?" he calls her, a little louder this time. "Noura?"

But there comes no response. He turns to the physician.

"Why isn't she awake yet?"

"She has lost significant amount of blood, sayidi."

"But you said her injury wasn't major."

"It wasn't. But in this condition, even a little blood loss is significant."

He frowns, perplexed. "What do you mean? What condition?"

The woman stare at him blankly, as if unsure whether he's dumb or confused.

"Answer me," he demands, standing back up.

"She's with a child," she informs him, leaving him stunned. "I thought her family might know since her pregnancy is of quite some time."

"I..." He looks back at Noura, lost upon her closed eyes, having nothing to interpret and understand anymore. "She's... I didn't know."

Certainly she is no more a little girl but a woman now. She doesn't run to him for help anymore-- she doesn't need to. For now she handles her affairs herself. And he doesn't know if he is proud of the fact or envy that it's not the same anymore.

But that's the reality of life, he understands. Things ought to change. People too. She has too. As has he.

"I couldn't take care of you, but may my Lord do," he prays in a murmur and then leaves the room.

Once outside, Hafez has returned and waiting for him. He tips his head, his eyes speaking to him the words his tongue cannot in the presence of his mother, and he addresses her.

"Madar, I've to go to the palace for an urgent matter. But I'll return before nightfall."

"But what for, Eskander?" she inquires, growing apprehensive.

"I'll explain once I return." He then directs to Hafez. "Stay here, and stay on guard."

"Yes, sayidi."

He takes his horse and sets off for the palace. All the way his mind aboil. His thoughts consuming him. Spiraling. Becoming entangled. And he's in the labyrinth running and running with no way out.

When he arrives at the stables, he finds Daud there. He dismounts his horse and the stable keeper takes the reins from him. Daud rushes towards him.

"The Amira--"

"She's fine." He's taking long strides towards the dungeon and Daud has to run to keep up with him. "Write to your Ameer and inform him of the matter. It's is important that he knows. And write to him," Eskander glances back at him, "that his wife is expecting."

He doesn't stop to hear his response. As he enters the dungeon, one of his soldiers kicks the man they've captured as the culprit behind his knee, making him fall before him. Eskander unsheaths his sword and brings it to his neck without wasting a second.

"Who did you do it for?" he grits, his charing glare fixing on him.

The prisoner doesn't answer, neither meets his eyes. He pushes up against his chin with his sword so their gazes meet.

"Don't waste my time and your death will be swift."

"I only received gold from a servant. I don't know who he works for. He paid me to do the job."

"If you lie," Eskander warns gravely, "I'm going to cut your tongue and lash you to death in public square."

The man's eyes widen in horror, reconsidering, and he stutters a few times before confessing, "A lady from the royal family. But I don't know who. I only saw the royal family's ring on her finger. Her face was covered."

Eskander removes the sword from his neck. In one swift motion, he thrusts it into his chest. Only a gasp escapes the prisoner's lips as he falls forward. He kicks him back and pulls out his sword, handing it to his soldier who cleans it for him before he sheaths it.

Marching towards his next destination, he arrives at it flying, barely able to contain his rage.

"Inform the Amira I wish to see her."

The guard at the door tips his head and disappears into the chamber, reappearing moments later and holding the door open for him, allowing him to get inside.

The second the doors close and he's left alone with her in the chamber, her standing at her balcony entrance with a surprised expression on her face-- colored with a hidden bliss underneath as if having not expected him, he let the fire within him blaze and ashen every rational thought in his head.

"Eskander?"

"Maysoon," he hisses.

In a few quick strides, he's at her and latches onto her neck. Her previous expression washes out instantly and is replaced by shock and alarm. His grip is firm but not choking, and she doesn't attempt to push him off. Instead, she holds onto his arm and buries her nails into it.

"I warned you many times," he seethes. "I told between me and you if you try to drag an innocent person, I won't be quiet. I told you if you try to hurt Noura, I will kill you."

She continues staring at him wordlessly-- cluelessly.

"But you still did it," he rages at her, blinded by it. "You keep sending your men after her. You try to kill her. But what does it change for you?" He scoffs. "Tell me, does your soul fool you into thinking if you kill every other woman, I will marry you? Do you think someday I might fall in love with you? Because if so, then you are wrong. I've never loved you and I never will. And if you can wipe the earth of every woman besides yourself, then do so. But you will still never have me, Maysoon. This is never happening in this life."

She clenches her jaw, staring dagger at him, but somewhere beneath he sees an ache and desperation in her eyes.

"I didn't send anyone after her," she denies

"Liar!" Eskander snaps, tightening his grip and feeling her gulping. "This is all you've ever done. Lie. You think I'm going to believe you?"

"Don't believe me then." Her hand falls from his arm. "Kill me if it pleases you."

He struggles with himself, his wrath burning him, urging him to burn her too-- to kill. He glowers heatedly at her, clenching his jaw, and she passively stares back. After a seemingly long internal battle he let go of her.

"Just confess it that it was you," he says, voice calm now but his tone bitter. "The culprit confessed he did it for a lady of the royal family. He saw your family's ring on your finger. And I know only you and Amira Arwa wear those rings. It couldn't be her, so it has to be you."

She holds up her hand to him, the ring missing. "I lost my ring. Someone must have stolen it to use it against me."

Eskander laughs, mocking, full of incredulity, and steps forward, towering over her.

"And who must be more wicked than you to do so?"

She gives him a pleading look, shaking her head. "Don't do this. Don't you think if I had to kill, I would rather have send someone after your wife? What good is Noura's life to me now?"

"Don't you even think of my wife," he spits, anger flaring once more.

"Please, trust me."

She places her palm over his cheek and he jerks away from her.

"Don't."

She looks at him dejectedly. "You recoil at my touch, as if I wound you."

Pulling out her dagger from her waistband, she holds it against her chest.

"Kill me so you may be rid of me."

"The guilt of killing Ruwa upon my conscience is enough. I'd rather have you live with the burden of your sins."

"My love is a sin to you?"

"It is a curse to me."

She lowers the dagger, smiling sardonically.

"I always told myself that maybe I didn't understand you, Eskander. I never accepted out loud that it was you who never loved me-- so you never tried to understand me. Even though somewhere deep down I already knew it was true."

"You could've a life but you chose to ruin it," he remarks flatly.

"For you." She lifts her chin. "If I die, can you live with this guilt and be happy? Can you live with the fact that your love killed me-- for it kills me little by little every day. Do I even name it love if I'm dying? If this is death, what is the death when the heart no more feels? I'd rather have that death."

"Don't be crazy," he shushes her grimly.

"Yet I still love you, Eskander." A lone tear slides down her cheek. "I still want you despite this agony."

He doesn't respond, having no words to offer her.

"But what good is this love to me? This love is insanity. Where I burn to keep you warm. Where you watch me burn but stay afar. And what good is my sacrifice if you choose to remain cold? What good is this chase where you never stop-- never turn around? You do not care if I perish. Then I shall perish, but so shall you. For maybe your soul will have a heart that your body never homed. Maybe love will find us in another life."

She doesn't give him another chance to speak. The dagger in her hand buries into his chest-- stabbing him where his heart is supposed to be but where she believes to be a void. And for a flicker of a second his life flashes before his eyes-- a glimpse so brief he feels as if he has never lived it. And he falls to his knees.

Her form begins to blur and it grows smaller and smaller with every step she takes backwards, away from him, towards the balcony handrail. He doesn't know if his eyes are becoming hazy or if his head is, but he knows what is about to befall, their fates suspended by the last remaining threads ready to snap.

"Don't," he begs, not knowing if she can hear him, but knowing even if she can she will not stop.

The