۴

                                    

                                          
He stiffened above me, his warm breath against my lips as he closed his eyes. A growl of frustration rumbled from deep within the Prince's throat, the sound strangely animalistic. 
                          
Goosebumps pimpled my skin.  Thoughts oddly slow and skin humming, I blinked. Dark hair fell forward onto his forehead. His features were shadowed in the soft, flickering light, but I thought his lips looked as swollen as mine felt.
                          
"My Prince?" A male voice rang out. "Are you in there? It's Hamza." The man called out a name I didn't recognize.
                          
"As if I didn't know that already," Prince Alizayd muttered under his breath, and a small giggle left me. His eyes opened, and a half-grin appeared. "This better be important," then he shifted off me, standing, picking up his qamis from the floor, his long legs carrying him towards his room.
                          
I sat up, my mind in a whirl. The Prince was completely unexpected. The gentleness, the understanding...another contradiction in his character. 
                          
White material nearly transparent, my cheeks flushed hotly as I scooted off the bed and stood in front of my reflection, on surprisingly weak knees. My gaze lifted to the wooden screen acting as a door, and I closed my eyes, unsure if I was disappointed or relieved by the interruption. I moved towards the water pitcher, pouring myself a glass, trying to control myself.
                          
"Well? What is it?" the words were an impatient snap. I gulped the water down, trying to find evidence of the gentleman who was wreaking havoc on my senses only minutes ago.
                          
"Apologies my prince. The Turkish rebel group has been causing problems at the border. A missive has arrived with the news," my ears perked up and I shuffled closer to hear better. 
                          
"What is it?" his voice sounded clearer, more focused. 
                          
"He's waiting for you in your office," Silence followed his words, and I hurriedly seated myself on the bed, trying to act nonchalant. My hand crept up to my lips, remembering the feeling of his lips on mine. His lips on my neck, his hands in my hair... someone cleared their throat and I jumped.
                          
My husband's brows lifted as the haze cleared from my thoughts, a slight smirk on his swollen lips. Heart skipping around in my chest, I clutched the covers tight to my body, needing physical protection from his intense gaze. 
                          
"I will have to leave... there's a pressing issue," I nodded, trying to control my emotions. He came closer, kneeling down to my level, his hand cupping my cheek. Sparks zinged through his fingers dancing over my skin. My lips parted and his thumb swiped over my bottom lip, his gaze dark.
                          
"My Prince?" he groaned again, throwing a venomous look at the direction of the voice and I blushed. 
                          
"Till tomorrow," He got up, grabbed his turban, pressed his fingers to his eyebrow, and left. A sign of respect. I stared at his back, touched, and confused by the action. 
                          
What was this man? Who was this man? Everything about him was inconsistent. 
                          
Feeling completely out of my depth, I snuggled into the covers, thoroughly confused. My eyes fluttered to a close as I tried to make sense of his actions, thinking of a game plan to gain my footing in the palace.
                          
Morning came with more problems and no answers. 
                          
The Caliph had sent an invitation for a family lunch. It was an unusual request but not unheard of. I chewed on my lip, worried about the reasons for such a decision. 
                          
Ayesha and Haleema eased the weighty garment onto my shoulders and I studied the finished product in the mirror before me. My midnight tresses gleamed like polished obsidian, and brown eyes were edged in alternating strokes of black kohl and liquid.