by Megan Linski
“Bennua, don’t you think you went a little… insane with the decorations?” Zahid asks. He gestures to the shattered camel, whose head is lying nearby.
“It looked a lot better before you got here,” I grumble.
“What the hell is this?” he asks. He points to the gigantic tree.
Shadi lifts his head from the floor. “It’s a tree. Are you people blind?”
“Yes, a Tajdid Alnaar tree. The biggest and the best,” I say.
“No, it isn’t. People can’t get around this!” Zahid argues. He takes out his sword, and starts toward the tree. “It’s completely impractical.”
“Zahid—” I start, but before I can stop him, he swings his sword and starts hacking away at the trunk. Every whack feels like it’s going into me.
When he’s cut the tree into two pieces, basically what’s left is a really, really long trunk, and a tiny stump with a large and leafy head at the top. He takes a potted plant, turns it over, and spills it on the floor before putting the stumpy, ugly tree in its place in the vase.
“There.” He steps back, and observes his work. “Now it’s better.”
The tree is crooked in the pot, and looks more like a bush. I make a strangled noise.
“My tree. You destroyed my beautiful tree,” I say weakly.
“I improved it.”
“You mutilated it.” I glance at his blade. “And you ruined your sword.”
“It’s merely a spare, not my true sword. It’s getting sharpened. And it was worth destroying the sword to take down that monster,” Zahid says.
I take a deep breath, hold it for a few moments… then promptly explode.
“What is your problem? Are you determined to ruin Tajdid Alnaar?” I ask.
“We’re going to have a lot of people here on feast day. They wouldn’t have fit with that big tree in the way,” Zahid argues.
“I agree with that,” Shadi says, raising a limp hand.
“Whose side are you on?” I shoot at him, and Shadi stays quiet.
“We still have a tree,” Zahid insists. “Yes, it’s a little… different—”
“You made it ugly!”
“I did not.” Zahid frowns. “I just… wanted to help.”
“And I just want you to have a nice holiday,” I argue, and I stomp my foot. “But to be honest, it’s really hard to enjoy Tajdid Alnaar when you’re being such a stooge!”
“Scrooge,” Shadi emphasizes. “You’re getting it wrong.”
“I have no idea what either of you are talking about.” Zahid says, and he shakes his head.
I go to bite back a comment, but that familiar fiery feeling inside me dies when I recognize it. Zahid and I are mostly teasing, me, on the verge of being insanely irritated, but if I keep pushing this we’ll get into an argument.
I don’t want to fight with him. The last time we got into an argument, bad things happened. Zahid died. I nearly lost my sultanate and everything that matters to me.
We haven’t fought since the night I got him back. A strange thing for us, almost abnormal, but I don’t want to break the peace. I’m scared to.
If you fight with him, something bad will happen again and it’ll be your fault.
There is a small chest full of hand painted ornaments. They’re the only thing not touched by disaster. I open the box with a sigh and start putting ornaments on my sad, unhappy tree.
“I need to lie down,” Shadi groans. He appears very green— and not due to his natural djinn skin color.
When he vanishes in a puff of smoke, Zahid appears by my side. He starts putting ornaments on the palm leaves, tying the strings a little too tightly.
“What are you doing?” I ask as he puts his ornament a little too close to mine. I have a particular inclination to space every ornament apart equally, but I resist the intense urge to move Zahid’s ornament and leave it be.
“Couples usually decorate the tree together, don’t they?” he asks. “Or is it children? I really can’t remember all these traditions.”
“It’s couples. And you didn’t want to take part this year,” I remind him airily as I hang an ornament on my now-mutilated plant.
“I can help you decorate a tree.”
He puts the rest of his ornaments next to mine, in a messy fashion. It’s like he doesn’t know how.
Then I realize he most likely doesn’t know how. He probably never decorated his house with his mother.
“This is nice,” I say. “I enjoy doing this with you.”
“I do, too,” he says. “Even though you’re a pain in my ass.”
He’s trying to goad me, but I don’t bite. I stay silent.
He notices. “Bennua,” he says, and he pokes me in the side. “You’re being quiet.”
“Because I don’t want to get into anything,” I reply. I can’t resist straightening at least one of his ornaments. “We’ve been doing well. We should keep it that way.”
“You should let me know how you feel. You’ve never had a problem with speaking your mind before.” Zahid laughs.
“I can let you know how I feel without yelling or criticizing you,” I say. “I don’t need to always voice my opinions.”
“A little fighting isn’t bad. It’s healthy, from time to time.”
I cough. “If you say so.”
“We can still argue,” Zahid says. “It’s not going to kill us.”
I stumble. Zahid catches me by the arm, and grimaces. “Right. Bad choice of words, I suppose.”
I nibble on the inside of my cheek. “Let’s not talk about it.”
I stand back from the tree and tilt my head. The ornaments are all collected on one side, and the tree leans over under its weight. It still looks like a bush, but in the lamp light it looks… rather pretty.
Zahid puts his arm around my shoulders. “There. It isn’t so bad, is it?”
“No.” I lean into him. “It’s slightly less hideous.”
He laughs again. “Any other answer would’ve had me worried.”
“I suppose I should start picking this up,” I say. I turn toward the mess with my hands on my hips. It looks like a sandstorm swept through here.
“We’d better get started,” Zahid says. He picks up a broom that’s leaning against the wall and starts sweeping the shattered remains of the crystal fountain across the floor.
In Sahrahn, the men don’t help with any sort of household work, especially cleaning— they leave it up to the women or servants. Most consider it beneath them. Zahid’s gesture… its kind, and meaningful. Despite his position as sultan, he’s willing to lower it to help me.
“You don’t need to clean up this mess. I’m the one who made it,” I say, and I raise my eyebrows. “I mean, Shadi did, but I should’ve known better than to ask, honestly.”
“I’m not going to let you do it by yourself. Come.”
Zahid and I spend the rest of the day cleaning up the mess, and re-decorating the throne room with the normal decorations the servants bring in. When it’s done, it looks like the same old Tajdid Alnaar decorations that hung when I was a child… but it’s still beautiful all the same. There’s a bit of old magic in bringing back things year after year.
As the sun sets, Zahid grabs my hand.
“The fast is over for today. Let’s get some supper, enjoy the night festivities, and head off to bed.”
Zahid nestles his head in my hair, and kisses my neck. Goosebumps rise over my flesh and shiver down my spine.
I don’t deserve him.
Tomorrow, I need to do better.
“Bennua! Bennua, all is well! Wake up!”
Someone is shaking me. It’s the middle of the night— past midnight, but not late enough to be the darkest hour of morning. The only light that exists in my black world is the blinking of stars, and the flash of fire as someone ignites a lamp next to the bedside.
I’m still screaming. The noises my throat makes… my god, I can’t believe I’m making them. My body still vibrates with a
ftershocks. My heartbeat is pounding so fiercely. It’s about to spring out of my chest, or come up my throat and choke me.
I gasp for breath. Although my lungs take in air, it still feels like I’m drowning. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.
“Bennua, my love, shh, it’s all right.” Zahid lifts me to a sitting position. I’m still gasping. Phantoms and shadows linger along the walls, waiting to grab me, grab us.
Blood. There’s blood blossoming through Zahid’s clothes, staining the white fabric red. I rip his shirt— buttons go scattering across the floor. I run shaking hands over his abdomen, his chest, to make sure he’s all right and there are no holes. My fingers quiver as they run down the length of his spine.
There is no blood, no wounds from arrows. I imagined it.
When I see that he is fine and nothing ill has befallen him, my face melts. I crumble into pieces, put my head into my hands and sob loudly.
Zahid doesn’t ask questions. He just brushes the hair out of my face and attempts to calm me down.
I feel horrible. This is the fourth night this month I’ve woken him up… but not so dramatically. Mostly it’s just a few quick screams, or me floundering for him recklessly in my sleep to make sure he’s still there.
I’ve never completely panicked in the middle of the night.
Ever since… it happened… I’ve had terrible nightmares. For months. Despite trying everything, I can’t get rid of them.
I’ve tried to suppress them. But stuffing them down only makes them come back with a vengeance.
“I won’t go through it again,” I weep. “I will not, I will not.”
“What won’t you go through again? Bennua, answer me,” Zahid says, and he puts a hand on my cheek. His touch is so real, I flinch away.
“I will not watch you die!” I wail. By Alshams, I’m breaking apart. “I can’t stand to lose you one more time. If you leave me again, if Alshams sees fit for you to die before my time, I will take a dagger and end my suffering.”
“Don’t speak of such things!” Zahid says roughly. He grabs me, very sharp. “I never want to hear that come out of your mouth again. Do you hear me? Not ever!”
“It is the truth,” I say. “I cannot bear to go through it all again, cannot bear to lose you. If someone takes you from me again, Zahid, I will not recover. I cannot. My soul has had enough. Alshams will take you, and I will follow right after.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Zahid pulls me inward and presses me to his chest. The confident sound of his heartbeat, beating wildly, calms me. He is still here. Alive.
“You listen to me,” Zahid says strictly. His arms tighten around me, as if he’s terrified I’m going to escape out of them, be lost forever. “If something happens to me, you will not take your own life. Swear it.”
“I can’t,” I say. I’m still sobbing. “I’ve tried once to live without you, and I don’t have the strength. You are my other half, my everything. I was lost before I met you.”
Zahid rocks me back and forth. He nestles his head against mine. My breathing calms, and I begin to steady.
“Zahid,” I sob. “Please.”
He knows what I need without even having to ask. He trails kisses down my neck, and my shoulders. His hands gently push down the silk gown that’s around my shoulders, softly undoing the ties that bind the gown to me. He throws the silk aside and moves over me, pressing his weight into my body to assure me that he’s still there. His arms fold around me as a fortress, boxing me in and providing safe walls.
I can’t… do this anymore. I can’t endure the nightmares and mental torture my mind is putting me through. I need to become lost.
The terrifying images and torturous memories fade away as Zahid begins to heal my soul. When he nestles himself inside my body, I hold him close as he moves, so he won’t go anywhere.
I don’t want to worry him.
I just want the fear to go away.
The next morning when we’re getting ready, I’m trying to act as casual as possible.
It’s not working. My hands still shake and my eyes scamper. There’s a paleness to my face and weariness from lack of sleep. I’m not well.
We haven’t said a word to each other all morning. When we woke up, Zahid just stared at me. And stared, and stared.
I wasn’t able to decipher what was in his eyes.
When we’re fully dressed, I say quietly, “We should go. The council is waiting.”
“I think we need to talk about what happened last night,” Zahid says intently.
I freeze. I’m a little ashamed. In the dark, immediately after my nightmares, my words were bare and honest, so real. They seem foolish and childish in the morning light.
But that doesn’t make what I said any less true, because I meant every word of it.
Zahid senses my embarrassment. He crosses his legs on the bed and opens up his arms. “Come here.”
I crawl over and sit on his lap. He folds his arms around me. I lean my cheek against his, savoring the sound of his breathing.
Alive. Not dead, alive.
“What was that about?” he says.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I’m not giving you a choice. Bennua, you’re scaring me.”
I fiddle with my fingers and curl further into his lap. “Just… arrows, and… blood, and… Rukuh.” I shudder. “I see it again and again. Each night, I relive it.”
“I am here,” Zahid says.
“You might not always be.” I tuck my head into his shoulder. “That’s what makes the dreams real.”
“Our lives are risky, especially mine. We will not be able to go forever without fighting or war,” Zahid starts. “Anything could happen to me at any time. And you need to reconcile yourself with that.”
“It is impossible,” I whisper. “I cannot accept that I am so powerless.”
“Enough. Do you know what that does to me to imagine you hurting yourself?” Zahid’s body shudders. I hate that I’m putting him through this. “I have to know that if I die, you will go on.”
“I do not want to go on,” I say.
“I’m sorry, Bennua, but what you want and what the world needs are two different things,” Zahid says softly. “You are a queen, the only one in our continent to rule. You are the only person in Sahrahn who is installing rights for women, access to education, and who is creating a better world. If you forfeit your life, you forfeit everything we’ve worked for and all that we’ve done. People will mourn me if I pass, but they will suffer tremendously if you’re gone.”
“I do not believe I’m so important,” I argue, looking at him.
“You are. Everyone can see it but yourself.”
Zahid pulls back. “I sacrificed myself so you could live, and I’d do it again. In a heartbeat, Bennua, I would. If I’m willing to die for you, you should be willing to live for me.”
“You’re asking too much of me,” I whimper. “I would die for you as well, but to live without you? To go through the years lonely and alone? That is harder than dying.”
“I swear to you that I will do everything in my power to make sure that never comes to pass,” he says. “I will not leave you unless Alshams drags me back to the afterlife, and even then, I will fight. I adore you far too much.”
He holds me. I embrace him back, closing my eyes and enjoying his scent.
“I love you,” he whispers. He tilts his head, and kisses my lips softly. “Please don’t torture me with thoughts like this ever again.”
“I love you too,” I reply, returning the kiss. “And I won’t.”
He scratches his beard. “We have to do something about these nightmares. They’re not helping you.” He sighs. “And they’re making both of us lose sleep.”
“I can talk to the physician,” I mumble. “See if he can give me a tonic that will knock me out each night.”
“Very well.” His hand travels down my back. “I’ll go with you, after the council meeting.”
<
br /> I shake my head. “No. I need time to finish your gift. I don’t want you to see it. It’s a surprise.”
He smiles. “I suppose that reminds me. I need time to work on your gift, as well.”
“What is it?” I perk up, interested.
“If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise, now would it?”
Zahid seems particularly secretive. My mind whirls with all the things he could have planned. What is my Raider Prince up to?
“Bennua,” Zahid says as we head out the door, and I pause. I look at him over my shoulder, and he adds, “Will you rest today, please? For me? I know how hard you’ve been working to make this a good holiday for your family… especially for me. I’d like you to take some time for yourself.”
Not a chance. I pause, then add, “Yes, Zahid. I suppose you’re right. I’ll be gentle with myself today.”
He nods, as if reassured. Or, at least, a little more relaxed than he was.
After the council meeting (which was dull, as usual) and visiting the physician, I hurry off to the opposite side of the palace.
I told Zahid I need time to finish his present, but in reality, I need time to do all the other things I had planned for him this year. I’ll work on his gift tonight, beneath candlelight while he’s sleeping.
It’s not like I’m going to get any sleep anyway.
Tajdid Alnaar won’t be able to eliminate the memory of Rukuh killing my husband. But it can mask it for a while.
“Make sure to order all the sultan’s favorites,” I say to the head cook as I bustle throughout the kitchens, Shadi behind me. “I don’t care what it costs to import them— even the red wine.”
The feast preparations are today, the parade being tonight. The next few days I’ll be too busy with festivities as the final day of Tajdid Alnaar approaches, so I have to get everything done today.
The smell of food in the kitchens is intoxicating, and my stomach growls, but everyone else has to follow the fast so I refuse my hunger and say, “This will be the biggest feast Haya-Maa has ever had. Open the doors to everyone— we will have enough food to feed a nation.”