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Prologue

Heatwaves glistened on the fine sand as steam hissed from their massive heels. Trails of vapor rose and twisted in the wind before vanishing, swept away by the harsh gusts. Their hooves slowed, dragging through the burning heat. Each breath Umaymah took felt like fire searing her lungs, the humid air clinging to her throat. In the distance, a child’s cries pierced the air, growing louder with every step.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving as she fought against the heaviness in her limbs. She stumbled, the hot sand shifting beneath her feet, and her fingers clawed at empty air before she fell, her body collapsing into the searing ground.

Tariq, sensing her fall, spun around just in time to catch the sight of her crumpled form. With hurried steps, he rushed to her side, gently pulling the bundle from her arms, the baby’s wails growing frantic.

The cream-colored fabric parted slightly, revealing a tiny face, flushed and tear-streaked, the child’s olive skin barely visible beneath the layers. Balancing the infant against his side, Tariq grabbed the water bag hanging loosely from his belt. His hands moved quickly, dousing a small cloth before pressing it gently to the child’s face. The cool touch quieted the baby’s cries, turning them into soft, hiccuping gasps.

He turned to Umaymah, her face partially hidden beneath her veil, only her tightly shut eyes visible. "Umaymah! Umaymah!" His voice was urgent, shaking her lightly but firmly. "We can’t stop. Please, wake up." He splashed water over her swollen eyelids, watching as they fluttered and slowly opened, her gaze unfocused.

"Umaymah?" he called again. Her eyes opened just enough to catch the sight of his concerned face, her voice a mere whisper. "Tariq… what did you do to her?" Her words were faint, the effort of speaking nearly too much.

"We need to keep moving," Tariq urged, his hand outstretched toward her, but she waved it away weakly.

Tariq untangled the cloth from around the child, loosening it to cool the infant down, his hands quick and practiced. "Tariq, what are you doing?" Umaymah’s voice sharpened as her vision cleared. "Don’t hold her like that!"

Tariq shrugged, his fingers deftly wrapping the child back up before handing her over. "I’m only trying to help," he muttered.

Umaymah adjusted the fabric around the baby, her hands trembling as she held her close. "Look at what you’ve done. She’s crying again." Her voice was strained as the child let out another whimper.

Tariq stood, brushing sand from his hands before tying his veil back on. "It’s not my fault," he grumbled, checking the saddles as the baby’s cries finally quieted. Sweat dripped from his brow as he tipped his water bag over his face, letting the last drops cool his skin.

"You should drink some," he said, handing the empty water bag to Umaymah. "It’ll help with the fainting."

"I don’t need your pity," she snapped, her voice defiant as she reached for her own water. "If I want water, I’ll get it myself."

"Fine. Die of thirst then," Tariq shot back, adjusting the saddle straps with force. "But hurry up. We need to move."

Umaymah glared at him, the dusty cloth around her face slipping as she untied it. The once soft pink of her cheeks had deepened to a fierce red, spreading across her skin, but she ignored it. Her gulps of water brought some color back to her face, reviving her enough to push herself up.

Tariq watched, amusement flickering in his eyes as she struggled to mount her horse with the baby in her arms. "Here, let me help," he finally said, stepping toward her.

"So arrogant," Umaymah huffed, accepting his assistance begrudgingly.

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"How far, Ya Tariq?" she asked, leaning over to glimpse the small map in his hands. His compass spun lightly in his palm, its needle pointing toward the horizon.

"Close," he replied, his voice clipped.

Before he could mount his own horse, a group of men appeared, their shadows stretching long across the sand.

"Well, well, well," one of them sneered, his eyes narrowing as he studied the pair. "Look who’s crawled out from their little castle today." The man’s gaze landed on Tariq’s gleaming pendant, the gold catching the sunlight. He chuckled darkly, his fingers twitching near the hilt of his sword. "A guard of rank, traveling with such… delicate company. Foolish."

Tariq’s hand tightened around his sword as he shot a deadly glare at the man, his posture rigid. "If you were just a traveler, we might have let you go. But today isn’t your lucky day."

Steel flashed in the sunlight as the men drew their swords, eyes glinting with menace from beneath their white cloth coverings. Two of them grabbed Umaymah’s horse, their hands rough and unforgiving.

Umaymah’s eyes dropped to the bundle in her arms, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. The child cooed softly, oblivious to the danger around them. "It’s okay, my Manal," she whispered, pressing her forehead gently against the baby’s. "I won’t leave you. They won’t hurt you. I promise."

For a moment, everything stilled. The wind stopped, the air thick with tension. Then, in a flash, a dagger sliced through the silence, grazing Umaymah’s cheek and loosening her scarf.

The clash of swords rang out, metal scraping against metal. Tariq fought furiously, but the men surrounded him, their blows relentless. His navy attire was soaked with blood, his once pristine armor now torn and battered.

A sharp blade cut through his arm, sending it tumbling to the ground. Another blow struck his leg, dropping him to his knees. Tariq’s body crumpled forward, his face sinking into the dark pool of blood beneath him. A final thrust silenced him, the blade piercing his throat, severing his head from his mutilated torso.

"Tariiiiiiiq!" Umaymah’s scream echoed across the sands, her eyes wide with horror.

The men laughed, their jeers mocking her grief. But Umaymah’s fear hardened into rage. Her hand slipped into her bag, fingers curling around the cold hilt of a dagger. She pulled it free, brandishing it with shaking hands.

"Let me go, and I won’t tell my master about this," she hissed, her voice trembling, but her gaze fierce.

"Ali, she’s of no use to us," one of the men whispered, eyeing the girl warily.

"She could still fetch a good price," Ali replied, stepping closer, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement.

"Oh, sweet girl," he crooned, his voice mocking. "Your threats mean nothing here. Look around. You have no power, no leverage. Don’t try to be brave. It doesn’t suit you."

Umaymah’s hand shot forward, her dagger flying through the air. It struck one of the men square in the back, his body collapsing before he even realized what had happened.

Ali’s smile faded as he barked orders to his men. "Bring her down!" he shouted. The men lunged at her, but Umaymah spurred her horse forward, dragging the attackers in her wake.

An arrow whizzed through the air, striking the horse’s flank. The beast reared, throwing Umaymah and the men to the ground. Its hooves came down hard, crushing one of the men before it bolted into the distance.

Rough hands dragged Umaymah to her knees before Ali. Her eyes searched the ground desperately, finding the bundle of cloth tossed aside like refuse. The baby’s cries rose above the chaos, each wail a sharp, piercing sound.

"A life for a life—that’s the rule," Ali declared, pointing to the man she had struck down. His eyes gleamed as they shifted back to her. "Who will it be?"

"Please, don’t hurt her," Umaymah begged, her voice trembling. "Kill me instead. She’s just a baby. She can’t hurt you, but I can."

Ali’s gaze flickered with brief consideration. "Though you’re right, the decision isn’t mine." He turned to his men, his voice booming. "What do you say?"

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the group, but one voice broke through the consensus. "We don’t kill the innocent. It’s against the code."

Ali’s lips curled into a sneer. "I guess my men have made their choice. Shame—you would’ve fetched a good price."

Without hesitation, his blade slashed across her throat, the cut swift and final. Blood sprayed across the sand, staining the ground beneath her as her head fell, lifeless.

"Ali, what have you done? He’ll have our heads for this!" one of the men hissed, panic lacing his words.

"Is anyone questioning my authority?" Ali growled, his eyes cold. Silence stretched as no one dared to respond.

"Good," he said, a cruel smile spreading across his face. "Cover our tracks. We need to make it to the slave market. I’ve got a baby to sell." His gaze lingered on the infant before turning to help his men

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