"Hurry and help her!" Ghazeyh Asael waved to his right-hand man, his gaze reverting to the battered female with avid interest. This was the first time he saw a female wander this far into the desert. One so skinny and young, yet so daring, had never crossed his path.
He wondered where she was from. The noble female of the empire didn't venture past the Stone City.
'Probably a native,' he thought, and his gaze fell on the back of her right hand, 'or a slave.'
Slaves were lowly creatures that had no status in his empire. Their duty was to serve, and their destination, to die in service. But for whatever reason, something about this slave commanded his attention and stirred his heart.
"Ghazeyh, she's out. What do we do now?" Sanbiri asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.
Ghazeyh retracted his gaze and pulled on his reins, steering the horse around. "What else? Take her back to the tribe." He said with a kick that started the mare into a trot.
"The tribe? You want to take her back to the tribe?" Sanbiri called after him in astonishment, but Ghazeyh didn't stop or reply in response.
For a right-hand man, Sanbiri asked too many unnecessary questions.
A few hours later, two horses raced into a settlement of dark-skinned people with animal hides wrapped around their chest and waist. The men and women gathered around the horses, respect and gratitude shinning in their eyes as they held the reins of the horses for the riders to descend.
"Benefactor, you're back."
"How long will you stay this time?"
"It's a little hard to sleep outside in winter. However, we discovered a miraculous fruit near the oasis this year. Stay and have a taste. I promise you won't be disappointed."
The crowd clustered around him the second he got off the horse. Ghazeyh ignored them. He weaved through the mob to get to the other horse, where Sanbiri struggled to get down with the unconscious female.
"Give her to me." He commanded, reaching out to take the girl.
"Your hi…"
"Ahem!"
"I mean, Mr. Ghazeyh, how can you carry her?" Sanbiri leaned down and whispered in his ear. "She's a slave!"
"Who said I was going to carry her? Give her to me so you can get down. Or else, do you plan to leap down with her?" Ghazeyh asked, stepping back and crossing his arms, a mocking sneer on his lips as he stared at the man.
"That…" Sanbiri's gaze shifted between the hard ground and the girl. Though it was only about a difference of four to six inches, his fear of height with the extra weight in his arms made the ground seem impossibly far. "Alright, you take her." He relented, practically shoving the dead weight to his master.
With a condescending snort, Ghazeyh took the girl and pulled her off the horse. By the time Sanbiri realized what happened, the man had already walked off with the tribesmen.
"Hey! You were only supposed to hold her until I got down!" Sanbiri called and leaped off the horse without conscious thought. Throwing the reins to one of the tribeswomen, he turned and chased after his master.
The tribesmen lived in mud splattered huts with tin roofs. Ghazeyh strolled into the hut specifically allocated to him and helped the girl onto his cot.
His brows creased into a frown when he saw her bloodied hands and peeled flesh on the soles of her feet. Her clothes were torn, blue-gray bruises littering every inch of exposed skin.
A flap at the hut entrance ushered in a young woman with dark bright eyes and a well-defined figure. Walking over to the cot, she extended her hands to the man with flushed cheeks.
"Benefactor, the weather is cold and dry. Have some water to moisten your throat." She whispered with a lowered head.
Ghazeyh moved his gaze from the girl and took the bowl. "Get me some medicine." He ordered, then catching the girl's chapped lips, added, "And warm soup."
The woman's gaze drifted to the unconscious girl. Her young age and ordinary features brought a ridiculing sneer to her lips.
"Go. Make it quick." Ghazeyh frowned. His eyes darkened with displeasure as he dismissed the tribe-woman in an urgent tone. Her lack of haste placed him in a foul mood.
The woman startled awake and nodded like a chick pecking corn. Throwing the girl another glance, she turned on her heels and scurried out of the hut.
'Just a little girl with an average look. She isn't worthy of being my rival.'
As he watched the tribe-woman's receding back, the frown on Ghazeyh's face deepened. He grew up in a palace of schemes and conspiracies. From his mother, his father's concubines, to his half-siblings, each and every one of them were master schemers whom he had to guard against.
If he couldn't even detect the malice in the tribe-woman, he wouldn't be worthy of living so long.
'A small pest. Sanbiri should be sufficient to remove her.'
Retracting his gaze, he kneeled beside the unconscious girl and pulled his handkerchief from his chest. Such a young girl…he couldn't imagine what she must've gone through. Dunking the fabric in the bowl, he wrung out the handkerchief, and wiped her forehead.
Then her eyes, cheeks, nose…before stopping at her chapped lips. Once, they must've been plump and soft. Now blood leaked from the cracks, making the dry flesh rise up in hackles.
Ghazeyh frowned and washed the fabric again. His chest felt stuffy, as if something heavy was pressing down on it.
'Am I about to catch a cold?' He wondered, and was doubtful at the thought. As far as he could remember, he had never fallen ill before. His royal father commanded him for his good physique, and the Holy Oracle attributed it to the blessing of the previous Frost-Flame Emperors.
According to his prediction, unless he lost the desire to live, no illness would befall him. No weapon would harm him.
Then why did he feel unwell?
Absentmindedly rubbing his chest to sooth the ache there, he wiped the girl's lips with gentle care and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Girl, who are you?" He wondered out loud, curiosity and a strange emotion flickering in his eyes.
Why did he find her familiar? Find her...so special?