Mina finally opened her eyes again. The darkness was now elevated by small lanterns placed in random corners of the nearly empty room. On the farthest side was a stretcher occupied by someone she could not make out.

"Hello?" Curiously, she whispered, hoping to alert the person of her presence, but they did not budge; she tried to regain her memory of what had transpired, but it was all blank.

Just then, the heavy door opened and a blocky figure thumped in. He first looked at the stretcher, then at her. "Ah! Finally, you awoke. " He walked towards a stool beside the stretcher; its metal was covered in a dark powder that seemed to line the entire room. As he sat, the metal shifted under his weight, digging deep into the dirt, leaving nothing but soot on his clothes. He leaned slightly towards the light, revealing a portion of his stoned face. "Umar?"

"So clever this Munir, don't you think? If I had not known better, I would have fallen for your act. "

"Where is the prince?" What has Munir done now? "

"Don't worry, as soon as you finish here you shall get all the answers. For now, just do as you are told." Mina started to hate being involved blindly again. Umar revealed a small blade and walked towards her, "Please let me go!"

Umar knelt, ignoring her persistent plea, "Always the chatterer! Didn't Munir teach you when to shut up? " He ran the blade through the ropes on her legs. The confused girl started jolting him, “You fool!” He stood up, looming over her, huskily took her arm and stood her up. His face changed with anger. He whipped her around and held her against the dark, rugged stone wall. The knife was pressed down on her calloused hands with such force that it almost drew blood.

“You are lucky, for now, but if he dies, so shall you." For a moment, his bulging eyes and clenched teeth frightened her, and for a moment he was a stranger. When he finally freed her hand, Mina moved further down the wall, regaining her previous position. She knew that he could not dare to go through with it. Munir would not allow it. Or would he? Long after Umar was gone, she still sat there staring at the walls, repeating his words. She was a fool to trust them. Was everything a lie? She was just another piece on the board, after all, in a game that Munir would always win. In one of the few particular moments she dearly treasured, Mina was washed away by her thoughts, remembering the old man.

"A... a... b... e... ey; Ya Munir, I give up! This is so hard! " The young Mina complained, throwing the book on the table. Munir, who was sitting across the room, turns around and looks over his glasses. The young girl was inclined on the table with both hands propped up on her face. Munir smiles at her, taking off his glasses. "You can give up or you can battle it, as Faiza did."

"Who is this Faiza?" as always, Mina questioned.

Munir stood up and uncovered a box amongst his books on one of the shelves. "Well, she was a great female physician.” He opened it, taking out a rounded wooden chip painted in black. Mina was further puzzled by the answer, "But Munir, how can a woman be a physician? It is forbidden! "he assumed the seat next to her. “She was the only one.”

For a moment, he stared at the chip. “Was she ever caught?" Mina whispered, not wanting to distract him. "Of course not, she had a brother who was a soldier." He pours the remaining chips on the table and sets the box aside. "Do you want to hear the story?" The young girl knew it was a lie, but she was not one to deny a good tale. She drew her chair closer as Munir drew squares with chalk.

The man across the room groaned, startling her from her thoughts. She draws close to him and notices his bleeding shoulder, a knife still protruding from the wound, and a swollen bump on his head. Umar barges in again, this time holding a tray. "Here are some things that might be of help." He sets it down next to her. As he was walking out, Mina thought she heard a familiar feminine voice before she could make it out that Umar closed the door.

The palace kitchens were quieter than usual, though it was Zuhur. No smoke emanated from them. A worried Munir filters the room, his eyes darting from one scarf to the other, curious eyes following him throughout his search. “Rawiya, we need to talk.” She gestured to the boy to pour water into a bowl. “Maybe later, Munir, I will have a lot of work.” He leaned forward. “It's urgent.” Rawiya froze, her attention quickly diverted to him. “Does it have to do with the prince?”

“Yes.”

"Follow me," she says as she leads him through the servants' corridors, up the stairs, and into the servants' conference hall. She locks the door with one of her numerous keys that jingle as she turns to Munir. “What happened?”

“Yesterday an old maiden came to my chambers. She was more of a beggar mien.” The woman looked annoyed. “You called me here to tell me about a beggar?”

“Please listen,” Munir insists.

She came to me with a bangle. She was about to leave, but Munir whispers close to her ears.

“The same one.” The old woman’s brows knitted in confusion and wonder.

Suddenly, I understood what he meant. “Where did she get it?”

“It was a gift from the desert raiders long ago.”

“What!” Munir nodded, “Does she know? After all these years, why now? ”

Her constant glances to the floor had ceased to be solely directed at the old man.

“I am not sure, but she is convinced that it came from here.”

“You just let her go with that information?” Rawiya’s tension built on

“I have already dispatched a spy after her, don’t worry,” Munir assured.

“She must want something for sure.” A knock on the door disrupted them: “Sorry Rawiya, the king is asking for you." Lurking in the shadows, a man was listening. His tattered skin was still raw and itched from the fabric that covered him. Quietly, he watched the two walk out of the room.

“Malik,” Khalid approached Suleiman, staggering to his right, blocking a scene of feeding doves. “Oh! "There you are.” Suleiman lit up, eager to hear him out. “Malik, a discovery has come to light.” He shifts a bit, biting his pulpy lower lip.

“Well go on then, what is it?” Suleiman impatiently urges

“I have to know that my sister will be free first.” Khalid nearly swallowed the sentence, but Suleiman’s keen ears picked up every word. "Hassan, go and bring Laila." Suleiman orders his son’s servant “He will take a while. Why don’t you join me here?” Suleiman offers him a seat on the ground beside him.

“Now speak, boy!” Khalid hesitates and then starts narrating what has transpired. Once in a while, Suleiman would nod and toss a handful of wheat to the birds. “This woman, did you see her?” Suleiman’s gruff voice echoed, startling the doves. “Yes, Malik.” Khalid quivered from the sound of, “I want her found immediately.” He got up and as he turned to walk away, his large kaftan slapped Khalid on the head.

"Malik, what about Leila?” Suleiman stopped without looking at him. “Bring the woman first!” he dismissed, resuming his stride.

' '

Mina paced around the small confinement, thinking of a plan. The tray was still on the floor, a pile of white cloth threatening to topple over into the dust beneath. Her once pristine gown, whose vibrant navy frills had no doubt faded from the coal, intricate rose prints washed away. The dim light worsens its complexion further.

“Mama!” The almost whisper turned her attention to him. His clothes were no neater than Umar’s. Drawing closer to inspect his wounds, she noticed his strong cologne, a mixture of wild cloves with a hint of cinnamon. A typical concoction is sold in every perfume shop in Madiyan. which was struggling to outshine the pungent sweet smell of sheep fat that stained his blackened tunic. Where it was reaped by the knife, she tore it out further to get a scope of the wound.

But it was not the smell nor the wounds that intrigued her rather it was his distressed features. Slowly she grasped the hilt of the knife pulling it out quickly, Pressing one of the white cloth from the tray to contain the blood. The tray only contained a bowl of water and the rags proved to be useless and helpful at the same time. Her hand ached from all the pressure she was exhorting to the wound, but the bleeding never stopped. Even the dark coals that kept peeping from his long lashes disappeared.

“Umar help! Please he is dying!” she doubted her futile screams couldn’t go past the heavy metal door, nevertheless she continued wailing. His heartbeat weakened by each passing second, its rhythm waning beneath the rags. Mina closed her eyes listening to her own as if lending it to him. “Run, hurry run!” the words flooded her mind as she remembered the bloodstain on the same shoulder; a small wound, probably from a quarrel.

She barely understood him but could tell, he was quite a troublemaker. Like Munir she guessed a soldier of the weak but what did he have? Unlike Munir, he lacked status and power and so his fate was long decided. Tear streams washed down her sooty face and the blood pooled in her hands, as she floated desperately in her thoughts trying to save the life of this perfect stranger.