CHAPTER EIGHT

AT THE END OF THE long bush was an opening, where the masculine figure came out of. His dark skin was complimented well by the raging sun.

That isn't Khai, Mazeeda realized. Her husband's body was not built to that extent, instead it was lean and fit. And his skin was not that dark from years of forgotten hunting.

It was Amon's.

She looked at Sonya then, really studied her this time, and realized that Amon and Khai must share the same strong chin and chiseled face. Her eyes were hazel and her lips full, nothing like the Caliph.

A sigh of relief came out of her as Amon hauled to a stop. Mazeeda was anxious for no reason at all. But at the same time, she didn't know what she'd do if it was Khai's kid.

After all, he has a mysterious mistress.

“Malika,” Amon said, bowing slightly. He turned to Ezra. “Mother.”

“My son, what trouble are you stirring this time with my Sonya.” A small tease so the late queen would see that smile she adored from him.

He bursted into a laugh, bringing a small smile to Mazeeda's face. “I'm sorry, but your granddaughter insisted it no matter how much I've tried to persuade her to chose the shamshir over archery. I'm much better at wielding swords than a mundane bow.”

“I beg to differ,” the Malika finally spoke.

Amon’s eyebrows shot up in amusement. “Do you, my queen?”

She looked at Sonya before looking back at the Caliph’s carver. “I speak of experience. Back in Evalli, my brother Sokath was a great archer, and so he taught me.”

The child gasped in elation. “You must show me, Malika.”

Her father stuck out his hardened hand ushering her to him. She took it. “You do not have to if you are busy.”

Mazeeda looked at her grandmother-in-law for permission.

“Oh, don't let me stop you.”

It's been so long since the queen held a bow in her hands, let alone show off her skills in front of Khai's family. She never felt as much nervousness as she did now.

When they crossed to the other side of the garden, Mazeeda's eyes immediately fell onto the rack where numerous recurve bows sat in its glory.

Amon stood besides her, Sonya and Ezra still catching up. “Please. Go ahead and choose one that suits you.”

Something tugged at the Calipha as she made her way to the rack until her hand fell onto the upper limb of the bow. She ran her finger down its massive length, amazed by how polished and sturdy it felt just by a simple touch.

Bashfully, Mazeeda picked up the bow, examining the intricate designs against the dark texture. The wood was a dark shade of the night sky with carvings that looked like henna. She wondered if the swirls and design meant something.

Her fingers delicately touched it.

“This one,” she said in a dazed tone, “is beautiful. I'm going to use this one.”

“A rather unique choice,” Amon told her.

She looked over her shoulder. “Why? Does it belong to someone?”

He smiled at her sadly, as if he wanted to say something entirely different than, “That one belongs to the Caliph himself.”

“Oh,” was all she could manage.

He waved his hands around. “Please, don't let it discourage you.”

Mazeeda wanted to laugh at that remark. Of course not, not unless I want to die. But she didn't put it away.

“Are you ready?” Sonya ran to her. “I want you to show me. Father isn't as good as cousin Khai.”

“Oh?” She wondered what that meant, but brushed it off as she approached the target a few yards in front of her.

Amon handed her an arrow where she rested it against the mocking point and pulled back. Their eyes on her felt just like the eyes of the servants when she ate breakfast.

Always watching her every move.

The queen closed her eyes and thought back to when she was in Evilla with Sokath.

“Put your mind at ease. Make it become a blank canvas,” he had told her as he stood and watched. “Think too much and the bowstring will not cooperate.”

Zeeda forced herself to clear her mind as she pulled the arrow back and released too soon. “This is absolutely demented. And useless.”

Sokath and Toha laughed. “Only because you are an impatient lady. Here.” He walked in front of his sister and repositioned her posture and grip on the bow.

“Relax,” he advised her, “your muscles are too tense. That is why your releases have been horrible and inaccurately calculated. Trust your muscles and body to guide you, not your mind. The bow is a part of you, a whole. Do not treat it as something entirely different. And when you do this, release.”

She was grateful of the memory and exhaled before letting go of the arrow and watched it swirl steadily through the air. It was going a little slower than her liking, but it would have to do.

For it hit the target straight in the middle.

Mazeeda never missed.

Amon let out a mumbled praise. “Well done, Malika. As expected.”

“Amazing!” Sonya shouted as she ran up to the implanted arrow. “Do it again. No, no teach me. Father isn't as good as you I'm sure. And he won't let Khai teach me.”

She was rambling off and Mazeeda was filled with a sense of warmness and home crashing into her. The kids back in Evalli were always filled with an unbreakable energy.

“I don't see why not.” She turned to the carver. “She keeps mentioning Khai. Does it mean anything?”

He shook his head in disbelief, his neck long hair moving with it. “Ah, well...what Sonya speaks of is ranking. I rather prefer any swords in all of Yaheisea than archery because I am a prodigy to it; Zaabit second to me and Khai third.”

The queen looked down at the bow in her hands. She thought of Khai then and how he would use it for hunting and leisure. How his hands would grip the bow like it was a part of him.

“And archery?”

Amon grinned in embarrassment. “I'm third best with Zaabit once again second. Khai being-”

“The best in Yaheisea.” A smooth crystal-like voice said, approaching them.

It was the Caliph himself in refined clothing of yellow, his defined chest in display by the deep V of his tunic where a sash was wrapped around his narrow hips. His trousers cuffed at his ankle.

And again, there was that copper bracelet.

It was the first time they weren't matching. Let alone saw each other after their incident in the room.

Mazeeda's free hand immediately touched her neck as she watched her husband give all them a supercilious smile.

He greeted his grandmother and cousin with a quick hug before clasping hands with his uncle. And then he turned to his wife.

His smile only grew at the sight of her. “Love of my heart.”

She wanted nothing more than to grab hold of his neck and give him a taste of his own medicine. “Khai.” She only tightened her hold on the bow.

“It seems as though you all have been enjoying time to yourselves while I sit in meetings all day.” He examined her, especially her neck. He swallowed at the disappearing bruised.

“Oh, Khai, you would not believe it! Your Mazeeda is exceptionally great at archery,” Sonya bragged.

He snapped his head back. “Is that so?”

“Of course! When have I lied to you, cousin?”

He laughed softly, making the storyteller confused. How strange it was to act so differently with his family than with his wife. It was an actual genuine laugh that didn't leave her body trembling.

A sincere display of emotion for the first time.

No, this was the second. The first was when he had been choking her and he fumbled with his words as if he hadn't realized what he was doing. And left without a fight, embarrassed and ashamed of his actions.

Then she found his brown eyes looking at her, filled with flecks of gold with the sun's light. “Sonya has told me how great of an archer you are.” Khai paused. “Are you?”

Mazeeda's hand gripped onto his bow. “So good in fact that I intend to take your place and make you second best.”

“Oh?” Amusement was written all over his chiseled face. He was completely captivated now and intrigued to see if his wife was right. “Then please, show me your best, love.”

He gestured to the target ahead of them.