Between holding on, and letting go, I wonder how you know the difference.

— James Baldwin

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Her

The hour of the night is late. It is the hundredth time she has visited him at the infirmary despite Daud's protests. Every time she has went to him, she has found his wife by his side. Then she has returned home, for her body exhausts easily. Her injury has weaken her.

The next morning she goes to him again. It is early as the light has only kissed the horizon. His wife is resting now, though close by, and their mother is with him. She asks them the same question every time: if he has regained consciousness. Every time the answer is to her disappointment.

The following evening she visits him again. His wife is sitting by his side and nestling the newborn in her arms. He's the only brightest ray of hope for his mother during these hard times. She would've crumbled without him.

Noura goes to sit beside Laleh. She smiles feebly at her and Noura returns it with tenderness, clearly seeing the ache in her glazed over eyes. She shifts her gaze to Eskander, lying like a corpse under the covers, the only sign of life is his soft breathing. She reaches over to touch his arm.

"How strange is your absence, aziz. How frightening is the thought of losing you. So may you never go. May you stay with us forever, Eskander."

She turns to Laleh and finds the baby looking at her with big, wide eyes-- with the eyes of his father, bright and brilliant. Noura smiles and takes him from his mother. Laleh closes her eyes and lowers her forehead against her husband's, her tears falling over his face.

"Janem," she whispers quietly, her voice broken. "Our Lord has given us a son. And I've given his your name-- Teymour."

Him

The corridors of the palace are empty. It is the dwindling hours of twilight and the last rays of sun filter through the windows to illuminate the path for him. The torches are unlit, and the corridors eerily quiet. His steps echo back and fill his ears as he moves towards an unknown destination.

"Noura?"

A woman appears before him in green garments but he cannot see her face as she walks ahead of him. He hastens his pace to catch up with her but she only seems to be getting further away.

"Noura?" he calls louder but she doesn't stop.

Her hair sway, revealing her back, a bloodied patch over one of her shoulders staining her dress. He feels anxious, his heart beating faster in distress. Extending his hand to grasp her arm, he finds her slipping through his fingers and his hand returns to him colored in red. He halts in his tracks as she does, the door of the throne room looming before them. She pushes them open and steps inside.

He keeps rooted to his spot, not following after her, bewildered by the scene before him, watching as Noura walks up to the throne where a child sits with a crown on his head, a line of officials on either of his sides neither of whom he recognizes.

"Malika."

The crowd greets in a chorus and tips their head before her respectfully. Oblivious to her bleeding wound, she walks up to the child and picks him up in her arms, turning to the officials. For the first time, he gets a look at her face.

His wife seems different, faraway, in a way where he almost doesn't recognize her. Her eyes are unreadable, sharp, assessing everyone before her. She appears assertive and undaunted, yet calm and composed. Noura isn't fiery and impulsive as he has known her, and for a moment he isn't sure if she is real.

"Harun," she addresses the small boy. "My son, I guarded you as one guards a secret that can save or destroy, and I tried to keep you from the world so I will not lose you before my arms can hold you. For a day when you will carry your father's name and have a share in the dominion of your Lord if He wills to give it to you-- if you stay righteous. To add to the strength of your father with goodness so it may not wane. And be a fair ruler, and be given wisdom. So you're remembered as a good man."

She looks up, their gazes locking, the barriers in her eyes crumbling as if only now becoming aware of his presence. But neither of them attempt to move towards the other, until the child turns to him and extends his arms, causing all the officials in the courtroom to direct their attention towards him.

"Baba!"

He twists in his mother's arms and she puts him down. The child runs towards him. Unknowingly, he finds himself kneeling to receive him, his arms open for the boy-- for his son.

But before he knows it, the throne room begins to dissolve, people begin to fade, voices become distant, and the child never makes it into his arms as the dream begins to dissipate.

He clings onto the last fragments-- he reaches out for his child and his wife. Noura is suddenly so near, a breath away, and he says the first thing on his mind.

"You're bleeding."

She smiles, grazing his cheek and whispering her last words before she becomes dust in the air.

"So are you, habibi. But hold onto me."

His eyes open to the darkness of his tent and morning prayer call. Under his blanket, he can feel himself sweating, his heartbeat erratic as it was in his dream. For a moment, he remains motionless, waiting until he can make sense of his surrounding and gather himself. This is the second time he has seen a dream of having a son by the name. Harun.

But there were other things this time. Like his wife addressed by the title of the queen. Like the bleeding wound on her shoulder. Like his son carrying the crown. Like Noura telling him he is bleeding too but to hold on.

If there is good news for him, there is a warning too. Like all great things coming at the expanse of a sacrifice. After effort. After patience.

Exhaling heavily, he removes his blanket and sits up. He can hear his soldiers moving outside the tent to prepare for the prayer. Getting up, he performs the ablution before joining them.

Taha is waiting for him near the burnt out fire from the last night where now only ashes of the woods remain. They walk up to where the soldiers have lined up for the prayer. Muawwiz is standing at the front, waiting for him with the others. They become attentive when they see him approaching.

Taha goes to stand with the others while he takes his spot in front of everyone. After a brief glance to the sky that's still dark but is the beginning to another day, he leads his men into the prayer.

Later when the dawn has cracked and ray after ray come to light the sky, each brighter than the next as the sun ascends, he sits with his soldiers for breakfast. Taha sits to his right, and Muawwiz before him in a small circle. The rest are clustered around them in circles of their own.

They distribute the bread and the tea, and he thanks Taha as he hands him his.

"Bismillah. Let us begin."

They eat in silence for a while, until Muawwiz speaks up.

"We've gathered a large number of men. Our soldiers are well trained. Our army is strong. What do you intend to do next?" he asks Adam.

"What do you suggest, Muawwiz?" Adam inquires instead.

"I suggest we besiege Baghdad once the truce ends and force the council and Ameer Sulaiman into submission. I don't think waiting until who the council chooses to give authority to is worth it. I also don't think the public will rebel against you, not now when they know who Al Shafay is. This way we take them by surprise as they'll have no time to prepare sufficiently for a war when they do not know of the army you have created. Neither might be a need for war if they realize they're overpowered and give up against you."

Adam looks at Taha, quietly asking for his input. Taha looks from him to Muawwiz, then back at him.

"I think Ameer Sulaiman is already aware that we've an army of our own. He might already be prepared for an attack from us in case of any mishap."

"Yes, but he certainly will not be expecting reinforcement from me," Muawwiz adds. "We can throw them off guard."

"The generals appointed in areas around Baghdad are all chosen by general Eskander himself," Taha argues. "I doubt they'll change sides. Besides, the army of Baghdad itself is a great force to fight."

"But if we risk it until the council's decision and if it isn't in our favor," Muawwiz holds his gaze meaningfully, "Ameer Sulaiman will kill you, Ameer Adam. And he will not hesitate, as he did not hesitate trying to kill his own brother."

Adam doesn't answer, and both the men exchange fleeting glances but don't attempt to continue the conversation anymore.

They finish the breakfast in silence and once they're done, he directs to Taha.

"Distribute tasks for the day. Send some of the men to the nearest cities and towns to fetch food and find places to stay. For the next few weeks, the army will be scattered around the areas in Baghdad while the rest of us return to the palace. They'll meet at a common place every day to train and receive their next orders."

"Yes, sayidi."

"While you, Muawwiz," Adam turns to him, "you will stay with them and lead them. It is better you spread around in small groups so as not to be suspected if a spy is sent from Baghdad to investigate. And many groups of you can cover a larger area to remain updated on everything that goes on at both ends. But when the time comes near and the danger rises, then reunite and move as one group."

Muawwiz nods in understanding. Adam directs back to Taha.

"Now go and prepare men to train for the day."

Taha tips his head and excuses himself while Adam gestures for Muawwiz to follow him.

"Come with me."

He joins him without any questions and they stroll through the camps of the soldiers until they are out of the area into the open desert. Adam continues to walk ahead away from everyone and Muawwiz remains close behind him.

"Do you remember the war between the brothers?" Adam strikes the conversation.

"How can I forget? I was part of it, as were you."

"Then do you recall the consequences of it and realize the next war might be as ugly if not more?"

"I would've said you're scared, Ameer Adam, but this time we've spent together has given me a chance to know you better," he replies. "Though I never saw you a coward even before now, but as a manipulative and ruthless man who had his claws firmly dug in the court affairs to use people to his advantage, I do not see you as such anymore. But as a man who prays and sits with his men humbly shoulder to shoulder without an account of his title or the pride of his father in his veins. I do not know if it is the life in slavery that has changed you or if you truly fear God, but some things require a sacrifice even if the sacrifice is of one's morals and goodness."

Adam smirks and ties his hands behind his back, craning his neck towards him.

"May that sacrifice be of blood?"

He smirks back at him. "I wouldn't be here with you if I feared for my life."

"I wouldn't expect otherwise. But I do not want to make the same mistake as Yusuf and regret later on."

Muawwiz doesn't respond, waiting for him to elaborate, and they stop under a tree for shade against the warming sun.

"Why do you think Yusuf bin Khalid gave up the throne and kingdom when the public wants him to be the Khalifa more than Sulaiman or I?"

Muawwiz appears to contemplate, his eyebrows quirking up slightly, but doesn't word his thoughts, and Adam does it for him.

"Because his one mistake of changing the rules and going against the council brought armies of hundreds of men united by faith against each other, shed blood of each other, so one can have authority over another. But in the end none gained anything out of it, expect for a burden of a thousand life weighing upon the conscience of Yusuf who tried to redeem it by giving up his throne and this kingdom. But the sons of Khalid became divided, and the army of their father who once was one became divided as well."

Muawwiz gives him a quizzical look. "So you will accept the council's decision, may it cost you your blood?"

He smiles, and Muawwiz studies him keenly, as if trying to solve a puzzle. Then he chuckles and shakes his head.

"Ameer Adam, what is it that you plan? For I have never known you as a man who submits to another man."

"The dominion belongs to One God. He may give it to me, He may take it away. If He honors me, He will find me grateful. If He tests me, may He find me patient. As for my life, then death has come to people in the strongest of fortresses. And life has not left those meant to live thrown into the fire or the oceans."

Muawwiz listens to him all ears, seemingly heedful and thinking. Adam places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes it firmly.

"We will fight wisely. No one wants to rule a land left in shambles at the expanse of war and whose people curse you to hell every day. One cannot be immortal, and hell is a wrecked abode to end up in. So those who are truthful and just in the council will be allowed to decide between me and Sulaiman. And if I'm ousted as a ruler, then you'll find me in submission to God. But if I'm favored against him, then you're right-- I'm not a man who submits to another man to assist anyone in a wrongdoing."

A quiet falls over them. Adam looks Muawwiz in the eyes, staring intently to gauge his reaction. After a moment, Muawwiz lowers his gaze and tips his head at him respectfully.

"I'm with you every step of the way, sayidi. And I stand by you in whatever you choose to do."

Adam only smiles faintly in response.

That night he stands beside Taha in a small mosque as a commoner among the others when the imam of the mosque leads them in prayer. No one knows him as a prince or the former caliph. He's just another passerby in their lives whose name they do not know and whose face they will not remember.

"By the night when it covers, / And the day when it brightens," the imam recites a chapter from the Quran. "And by Him Who created male and female, / Indeed, your efforts are diverse."

His gaze remains fixed to the ground. His hands tied before him. His head bowed in submission.

"As for he who gives in charity and is mindful of Allah, / And testifies to the best, / We will ease him towards ease," he continues. "But as for he who withholds and considers himself self-sufficient, / And denies the best, / We will ease him towards difficulty."

There is a tremble of his heart. A shiver along his spine. He releases a shaky breath.

"And his wealth will not avail him when he will perish. / Indeed, upon Us is the guidance. / And indeed, to Us belongs this life and the next."

Until the chapter is completed and he falls in prostration, he makes a silent supplication to his Lord-- a supplication with the words of his heart that his mouth cannot word. The same supplication he makes in each of his prostration.

When the prayer finishes, he and Taha make their way to where they're staying with the rest of the soldiers. But when he arrives at their destination, a distraught messenger is waiting for him. A heavy feeling settles in his chest and tightens it.

"My Ameer." The messenger tips his head in greeting. "I bring you a letter from Baghdad."

He presents to him the letter case and Adam takes it from him. He opens it frantically and strides towards the fire his men has lit to read it. But very soon the fire before him cannot help him with reading as his vision turns darker with each passing word. His airway constricts and he inhales in a hiss before crumbling the letter and throwing it into the fire, letting it engulf it.

"My Ameer?" Taha looks at him questioningly, worriedly. "What does it say?"

"Maysoon bint Khalid is dead. Eskander Teymour is on the brink of life and death. And my wife is with a child who barely held onto life when they were attacked."

Taha gives him a shocked look, but then quickly recovers and asks him, "What are your next orders, sayidi?"

Adam closes his eyes, jaw clenched as he takes a minute to compose himself. Then looking at Taha, he gives his orders.

"Make all the necessary arrangements here, Taha. We're returning to Baghdad."

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Five more chapters to go.

The verses of Quran mentioned in this chapter are taken from Surah Layl.

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