It was clear Tariq had wanted Aisha to remain at the castle, but she would be easy prey for his mother with him away. He claimed he wanted a partner for this life, so a partner was what he got.
As the sun disappeared behind them, the temperature fell. Aisha retrieved her cloak from her bag and wrapped it around herself.
‘Regretting coming yet?’ Tariq asked, watching her.
‘No.’ She looked over at Kaidon, who was wise enough not to look back. Two additional guards also accompanied them.
A few more hours passed in silence before the trees thinned and gave way to barren slopes. Aisha sat a little taller in the saddle as the village came into view. It was even smaller than she was expecting.
Ashwaq was more like a settlement forgotten by time. Buildings leaned into one another, smoke curling from their chimneys. The streets were empty, and all was silent.
Aisha snuck a glance at Tariq, who wore a hardened expression. ‘Is it usually this quiet?’
‘Never this quiet,’ he replied.
As they entered the heart of the village, Aisha felt eyes upon her. She spotted people looking out at them from behind wooden shutters. They came to a stop in what appeared to be the main square, though it was nothing more than a widening of the dirt road.
Kaidon dismounted first, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he surveyed their surroundings. Tariq walked straight over to Aisha to help her down.
‘Stay close,’ he said.
A door creaked, prompting the guards to reposition themselves. A man stepped out from the shadow of a low-built structure, his expression cautious rather than welcoming. He looked middle-aged, though it was difficult to judge with miners, as hard labour ages a person. A thick beard covered his jaw. His eyes narrowed on Tariq.
‘Your Highness?’
Tariq’s hand fell away from Aisha’s back, and he went to greet the man. ‘Jibran.’
The man laid his hand across his heart and gave a small bow. He looked past Tariq to Aisha as he straightened. ‘Who is this?’
A door crashed open before Tariq could answer. Aisha sucked in a breath as a man stumbled out into the square, his face gaunt and eyes wild. A knife gleamed in his hand, the blade catching the last scraps of light as he came towards them.
‘Murderers!’ the man shouted, his voice hoarse but carrying. His eyes were fixed on Tariq. ‘You send our boys to the mines. My son’s dead in the ground because of you!’
Kaidon drew an inch of steel and moved forwards.
‘Stand down,’ Tariq instructed, stopping all three guards in their tracks. He stood calmly as the knife glinted closer.
‘You sit in your fucking castle with your feasts and your finery while my boy rots beneath the stone!’ The man’s grief poured out in broken words. ‘He was twelve. Twelve!’
‘All right,’ Jibran said, his face tight. ‘You’ve said your piece. Now put the blade away.’
‘Shut your mouth!’ the grieving father replied, rounding on him for an instant before focusing again on Tariq. ‘Prince, king, emperor—it doesn’t matter. You’re all part of the same disease.’
Aisha stood frozen. She was both afraid and captive to the man’s anguish.
Tariq approached him, slowly. He didn’t reach for his weapon or call for his guards, instead meeting the man’s gaze with a steadiness that seemed to quiet him. ‘Give me the knife.’
‘You don’t deserve to live,’ the man rasped, his hand trembling as his grief overtook his rage. ‘Should be you in the ground.’
Tariq continued closing the remaining space between them, dropping his voice lower. ‘Don’t make your wife mourn her son and her husband.’
The man’s shoulders collapsed. His grip faltered. In a single, controlled motion, Tariq seized the man’s wrist, turned it, and eased the knife free. It landed with a soft thud in the dirt. The man began to sink to the ground, and Tariq grabbed hold of him. The father sagged against him, sobs tearing from his chest as Tariq kicked the knife towards Kaidon, who snatched it up.
The sound rang through her. Raw, unbearable, and so painfully human.
‘Get her out of here,’ Tariq said to Kaidon.
The guard was at her side a moment later, an arm locking around her as he led her away from the scene at an almost run.
