One may smile, and smile, and be a villain.

— William Shakespeare

"ZURARAH BIN HIRASH wishes to marry Rahaf bint Motassem."

Furat looks up from the dagger in his hand to Rouzbeh at the declaration. His friend stands in the doorway of his room.

"What?"

Rouzbeh walks inside and closes the door behind him. He makes himself comfortable in the chair beside him and rests his elbow on the armrest, leaning his cheek against his fist.

"I heard it myself. Ameer Hirash asked for the Amira's hand in marriage for his son. Aswad bin Motassem mentioned it before me."

Furat sheathes his dagger. "So I've another Kanan in my way when I just got rid of one?"

"Yes, and this one isn't stupid either to fall for your tricks," Rouzbeh adds in a manner as if to rub salt on his wounds. "Not to mention the Ameer has made him his grand advisor and might like to see him as his brother-in-law more than you."

Furat frowns, giving Rouzbeh a cutting look. "I wish your speech wasn't as repulsive as your face right now."

He laughs lowly at his annoyance. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Hit you in the face if another word comes out of your mouth to my dislike."

"I'm asking about Zurarah." Rouzbeh straightens, edging forward towards him. "Seriously though, what if he becomes a hindrance in our way?"

"I wouldn't worry much. He already has a lover."

"How do you know?"

"I heard him mentioning it to someone."

"But he didn't deny his father's wishes when the Ameer asked for his opinion. He rather said that he wishes the same."

Furat scoffs. "Then I'll expose him if a need arises. For now, I know Rahaf isn't interested in him even if he is."

"Such faith in her." Rouzbeh smirks and leans back in his chair, crossing both his arms and his ankles. "Did you manage to spark her interest in you?"

"Keep watching."

Furat straps the dagger to his thigh and stands up. He goes to fetch his sword, hooks it to his belt, and wraps his cloak around himself.

"Where are you going?" Rouzbeh asks.

"Somewhere with the Amira."

"Liar," he mocks.

"Want to accompany us?"

Rouzbeh lifts both his eyebrows skeptically. "What are you up to?"

"Something."

"You won't tell me? I'm your brother."

Furat winks at him and walks away.

"Furat!" he calls after him as he gets out of the room.

"Make sure to burn out the fire before you leave," he calls back and shuts the door.

It's midday. He arrives at the stable where he agreed to meet Rahaf for their adventure today. He sent her a note earlier informing her of the time and place to meet him. But she's not here yet.

Furat waits for a while until he feels she might not be coming. He wonders if she received his note? Or perhaps she changed her mind. He goes to take his horse out from its stall. Whether she joins him or not, he must go to meet his guest.

Right when he's done saddling his horse and ready to mount it, he hears someone coming into the stables. Furat turns around.

Rahaf strides towards him with her guard close behind her hurrying to catch up with her pace. Her cloak covers her and her veil allows him to only see her eyes. Just like the first time he had seen her. That night. In the brothel. He's reminded of it once again.

"My apologies." She's out of breath when she speaks. "Did I make you wait long?"

He smiles and shakes his head. "You're worth waiting for."

Those eyes instantly burn up with at his remark and she narrows them at him.

"So you weren't planning on leaving without me?"

"I only prepared this boy." He tugs the reins of his horse and gestures towards it. "Here, Amira, you can take my horse."

"Masruq?" she calls her guard instead who steps forward to receive her orders. "Prepare my horse for me."

"Yes, sayyidati."

Masruq goes to carry her order and Furat pats the forelock of his horse, as if comforting him at the rejection.

"I had to escape the eyes of all the guards to get here," Rahaf says. "You didn't choose an ideal time for this."

"Unfortunately this is the time my friend agreed to meet us," he explains.

"Where are we going?"

"Out of the city. But not far." He reads the worry in her eyes at his words and proceeds to assure her, "Don't worry, we'll return to the palace before dark."

Rahaf doesn't protest. Masruq brings her her horse and she mounts it. Furat mounts his horse too and steals a glance at her. He smiles to himself and covers his face with his mask to hide it. It's this trust Rahaf has chosen to put in him that'll lead him to his victory and her family's demise. He's already halfway there.

Snapping the reins of his horse, Furat leads them to their destination.

HE DOESN'T WONDER often about the future in terms of paying for his crimes but rather reaping the reward of his efforts. He doesn't tire his heart too much fearing what may or may not go wrong. A lone man having no burden of another soul upon him doesn't fear much. His men, his fleet, yes. But they're more of his strength than a weakness that can be used against him. He has sacrificed too much in life to be fearful of sacrificing anymore. There isn't much left anyway.

When Furat introduces the man to Rahaf, little does he consider the risk but the benefit that seemingly outweighs it. Yet he disregards the fact that some things are to become a punishment of fate or a painful lesson, we never know, but that neither is sweet.

Maymun bin Yamaan should be the last man he should trust. He's selfish, deceitful, and extremely cunning. An assassin, a spy, and a traitor. Furat is sure if things turn ugly, his so called friend won't take a second to abandon him. Like he abandoned many before him. Like he abandoned Tahman bin Motassem at the valley of death.

"You've your brother's eyes, Amira."

The first words to come out of his mouth aren't a greeting. Rahaf casts a glance at Furat, as if asking him for something— an introduction perhaps. But Maymun doesn't give him a chance as he continues to add to his previous statement.

"Not your father's eyes. He had eerie eyes, like Ameer Aswad. Ameer Tahman, his eyes were always alive. It's good to see those eyes again."

"Amira."

Furat comes to stand close to her, as if intervening. This man has a knife dipped in honey as his tongue. But Furat isn't blind to the blood on his hands and the greed in his eyes.

"This is Maymun bin Yamaan, a friend of your late brother and a very old friend of mine," he introduces.

"So you've known my brother?" Rahaf asks with interest.

"Very well." If Maymun wasn't covering his own face, Furat is sure he could see his smug smile. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Though Furat doesn't trust him too much, he cannot deny that he's useful to him. No matter if the grave of prince Tahman is found or not, Maymun has spent his past with the prince and knows secrets of the royal family that Furat is willing to pay any price for to learn.

"Ameer Furat tells me you know the forest well enough to help me find my brother's grave. Is it true, sayyidi?" Rahaf questions him, and Furat can hear the eagerness in her voice.

"I can try, but I cannot promise and give you false hope," he replies and Rahaf's shoulders almost drop in disappointment. As if noticing it, Maymun adds, "Your brother did die in that forest, Amira, that I can guarantee. What I'm not sure of is whether he was given a grave or not. If there is one, then it's surely in there and I'll help you find it. But if we don't find it there, then it would mean that Ameer Tahman wasn't given a grave."

"How are you so sure about it?"

"If you want me to help you, you'll promise me something," Maymun suggests.

"Maymun," Furat warns. He has already paid this bastard with enough gold not to ask for anymore of it any soon.

But Rahaf agrees before him, "Ask away."

Maymun looks at him, as if mocking him for his win. "You will not insist for answers I do not wish to give. You may ask questions, but I'll answer them only when I think I should. When the time is right. When you can bear what I know."

"I wish to know everything you know about my brother."

"Believe me, you don't. Some secrets are better taken to the grave." Maymun removes the hood off his head and the mask off his face, revealing himself to Rahaf. "But when you choose to dig a grave, then don't be afraid of what you might find at the bottom of it."

Rahaf takes in his face, studying him like she had studied Furat that night. As if committing to remembrance yet another face. And just like him, Maymun allows her. Furat quietly let the moment be.

"If that is your condition," she finally speaks, "then I agree."

Maymun grins widely, clearly satisfied, looking at Furat as if once more mocking him for a win. He steps closer and Furat gives his head a brisk shake, a clear indication not to come any nearer to the princess. It's better he reminds him of the boundaries he's expected to keep instead of giving him any privilege he can misuse. Rahaf is only his to get any benefits from. He's not taking risks by letting anyone near her who can expose him to her or get in his way of the throne.

His friend takes the hint and stops. "I only wish to answer her question," he says.

"We can hear you well enough from where you stand," Furat responds.

Maymun looks at Rahaf, suddenly apologetic, which Furat certainly believes to be an act, and tells her the secret he claims to know. And this Furat doesn't see as a lie.

"Many would believe Ameer Tahman died in the cabin fire, Amira, but the truth is he was murdered long before his cabin could ashen in that fire. In fact, it rained that night and it burnt out the fire. What I do not know is whether his murderer gave him a grave or if he let the cabin become his grave when the dawn rose and the rain stopped and he burnt the cabin to the ground."

He knows Rahaf wishes to ask him for more. He can see it in her eyes how they've gone wide and how she stares at Maymun. The hurt in them. The longing too. But he knows Maymun will put a price to anything he can and sell these secrets one by one. Slowly. Painfully. Until the reward to him is greater than the secrets themselves.

Pity, he thinks. How desperate one is in their love for another. How it brings them to their knees. How it turns a king into a beggar. He wishes to put Aswad bin Motassem through the same. More than Rahaf. Or perhaps Rahaf will become the dagger he'll use to slay ibn Motassem.

Furat looks at her as she looks at Maymun. How she wishes to question him but doesn't. How she patiently endures what is revealed to her. Like someone choked to death. Like someone deprived of breath. He knows that feeling, but he doesn't sympathizes with her. After all, it was her father to open gates of hell for him. He doesn't mind seeing his enemy's daughter standing where he once stood.

"Tahman bin Motassem didn't burn to his death, if that's of any relief to you. But where he rests is unknown to me," Maymun tells her. "Although I'll help you look for his grave. For I believe he's given one."

"How do you know this?" Rahaf questions him again.

"I'll tell you everything but everything has a right time." He once more covers his face and pulls the hood of his cloak over his head. "Until we see each other again."

He tips his head at Rahaf and nods at Furat, preparing to take his leave. Rahaf doesn't stop him or insists for answers, as she promised him, neither does she ask Furat about him once he's gone. They quietly make their way back to the palace.

The colors in the sky still linger when they return. Furat dismounts his horse and locks it in its stall. Masruq takes Rahaf's and does the same. Furat turns to the princess and offers her a small smile.

"Forgive me."

"What for?" she ask with slight confusion.

"I only wished to help you. But Maymun—"

She shakes her head, cutting him off and offering her a smile of her own. "Thank you, Ameer Furat, for introducing me to someone who can help me find the truth."

"I hope." He glances downs at his hands, twirling the ring on his finger. "Before I'm gone for the sea, I'll ask Rouzbeh to help you remain in touch with Maymun. You can trust Rouzbeh, but do not trust Maymun too much. It'll keep my heart at peace if you can write to me and keep me updated about everything."

He glances up again, catching a shadow behind Rahaf, and recognizes the person before he disappears into hiding. Another chance of fate he must use in his favor.

"I thought you said that your friend is trustworthy."

Rahaf's words bring his attention back to her. He chuckles gently.

"He is, in terms of getting his duty done."

"That's all I need of him."

She's ready to excuse herself but he steps in her way to stop her. Rahaf questioningly looks at him.

"I've something for you."

Furat pulls out the perfume bottle he bought in Granada for her. The one he associates with his beautiful days and thinks of them whenever he smells it. The one that calms his soul when it's put to unrest. He wants Rahaf to associate it with him. He wants to become her addiction and be on her mind even when he's no longer around.

"Think of me when I'm not with you," he softly requests. "Miss me. Miss me so often, Amira, that you pray for me. And when you pray for me, pray that you and I be."

"Ameer Furat—"

"I asked Ameer Aswad for your hand in marriage. Please do not reject me without giving me a chance."

Rahaf looks at him with a mixture of shock and disbelief. Her eyes searches his, swim into his, and are lost into his, as if unsure of what's reality anymore. As if she's trying to come out of a dream.

"I expressed my desire to marry you to the Ameer and he didn't seem opposed to the idea, except that he wanted to ask you about it first. So when he mentions it to you, I hope you consider me."

She blinks, and Furat extends the perfume bottle towards her some more.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you while in Gharnatah. It's a little something I got you there, and it would make me really happy if you can accept it."

Rahaf hesitates, and for a moment doubt and worry cloud his mind. If he fails to make this woman fall for his tricks before his time in Qurtuba runs out, he'll have to leave empty handed and without much progress towards his goals. And that he cannot afford.

"If you wish to test me in love, then I'll do anything to prove myself to you," he dares.

"Anything reckless might get you in trouble. And the dungeon is a bad place to be at," she reminds him.

"Will you lock me there so I don't get away from you?"

Her glare makes him chuckle once more.

"My brother will reject you before I do if he hears you."

"But will you?"

She doesn't answer. She just gazes at him with those vehement eyes of hers. And he wishes if she wasn't wearing her veil. If he could see her face. Maybe he would've liked that.

And then to his utmost relief and pleasure, she takes the perfume bottle from him.

"Thank you."

It's a whisper, and then she's gone. Furat cannot stop grinning. And then he laughs, throwing his head back, well aware that he's not alone but not caring one bit for his unwanted company. This is what he wanted. And what he wanted he has achieved.

"May you be reunited with your lover, Ameer Zurarah, as I'm to be united with mine."

Zurarah steps out of the shadows. Furat watches him as he comes towards him until both the men are face to face. He keeps smiling in the face of his opponent but hears no word from Zurarah. Until he decides to be the one to break the silence.

"Forget her."

He walks away. But before he could exit the stables, Zurarah calls out to him.

"Ameer Furat?"

Furat looks at him over his shoulder.

"It was never Rahaf. But you better be good to her. Because if you aren't, I will be."

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How do we like it now?