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Tariq nodded, and then hurled himself into her arms.
"Look after Father, and make your mother proud of you,” Elishiba added, as she ran her fingers into his soft curls, fondly.
"Come home soon,” Tariq demanded.
"As soon as I can.” She stood and kissed her father quickly, turning away from them before the pain started again. She and her father had spent an hour alone earlier that day, discussing details, saying their goodbyes.
As she turned, she saw that an argument had broken out between Xerxes and Sibias. Seeing her watching, Xerxes walked to her side. He wore the polished chest piece of The Immortals’ battle attire, as did all his men, marking them out as fierce, devoted warriors. Despite her vow not to wage war, a sense of pride blossomed in her heart. “What now?” she quizzed.
"He is insisting you travel in their royal palanquin.” His eyes gestured right, where a covered podium was mounted on a camel. Although pleasing to the eye, it looked like a ridiculously uncomfortable way to travel for long distances. Looped back, heavy curtains would be dropped down on the occupant, blocking their view of the outside world.
"The Karseedians brought it with them,” Xerxes added, “and he says the Empress Mehmet will expect to see you arrive in it."
Elishiba smiled at Xerxes. She had no intention of spending three days being jolted to her destination, captive in a small prison, when she could ride her own beautiful stallion. “I may be going there to negotiate for the sake of peace, but they cannot order me where to sit. At least, not yet."
"Never will they, Empress.” His handsome mouth curled. His faith in her warmed her heart. He held up one hand, and shook his head at Sibias and the men who waited to assist her into the seat and its shaded interior.
"I will ride my own mount,” she declared loudly, and gestured to one of her own men, who led Fidda forward.
Sibias scowled. “It would be unwise of you not to accept this generous gesture from the Empress Mehmet,” he shouted across at her.
He was an unpleasant man, but when he was thwarted in his plans he wore it badly, and looked comical. “Maybe later,” she responded, mounting Fidda. “If only to keep the peace,” she added, in a low voice.
"I'm ready.” She took a deep breath and nodded at Xerxes, who gave the signal. Her people began to move toward the gates of the palace and the winding street through the city to its outer gates. Sibias and his men had to hasten toward their own mounts in order to keep up with them and join the caravan.
Xerxes smiled at her admiringly as he mounted his horse.
She returned his glance affectionately, noticing that beyond him Amshazar, too, was amused. It gave her strength, and seeing them both that way, it made her think. Xerxes—her familiar companion andloverofdaysgoneby—andAmshazar—themysteriousstranger whose motives were still so unclear to her. It was Amshazar who stirred her blood in that illicit way. He was the one who set her skin alight with sensation whenever he was near, he whose image had haunted her since the first moment she had met him.
The palace gates opened.
Shouts issued from the crowd when they saw her.
Elishiba guided Fidda to the front of the caravan, and as it passed through the gates and began its passage through the crowded city streets, people jostled to get near her. She reached down to touch their hands, grasping as many of them as she could. A lot of the women were crying, and even the younger children were wide-eyed and watchful, clinging to their mothers’ sides, aware that something portentous was taking place.
This wasn't what she wanted.
She wanted them to be secure, to know and trust her even while she was gone. She told them so, reassuring as many as she could. Inspired by their heartfelt gestures, their calls for her safe return, she gestured over to the nearest guard who flanked the caravan. “Give me your sword."
The soldier obliged, drawing his heavy sword from its sheath and passing it to her. She gripped Fidda's reins with one hand, directing him ahead of the caravan. As she did, she raised the sword, pointing it at the path ahead, and called out the words of the battle prayer the warriors of The Immortals chanted to strengthen their souls. “I will fight in your name, Aleem, my life is yours."
On hearing the familiar vows, the crowd raised their hands to her, repeating the words alongside her, recognizing her strength.
"To fight upon the battlefields of The Immortals, with your laurels carved upon my breast would be an honor for you, my homeland."
The crowd surged forward, touching the trailing hem of her robes, calling out and wishing her safe return. At her back, she heard her soldiers join her chant. She felt the love of those who accompanied her. Alongside her, the devotion of the people she sought to protect swelled. As they passed through the outer gates of the city, a trail of flowers had been left upon the ground to mark her way toward the distant land. The gesture made her heart ache, but still she smiled, promising them she would return victorious, and that Aleem would be safe.
On the crowd went, many of them running alongside the caravan for as long as they could, until the soldiers turned them back to the safety of the city.
It was not until they had passed many leagues beyond the city walls, and the last of the stragglers who ran alongside them had gone, that Elishiba finally lowered the sword and covered her face with her veil. She focused on the horizon, refusing the emotion that had built inside her. Her will was strong, but even so, a battle lay ahead. What sort of battle, she did not yet know, but whatever it was and no matter how that battle had to be fought, she would fight to win. For her people.
* * * *
That first afternoon their journey passed quickly and uneventfully. They needed to cover as much ground as possible before nightfall, then set up camp for the night. In the hotter season, just a few weeks away, traveling across the desert by day was altogether impossible. Even now it was uncomfortably hot, and that's why they had waited until the afternoon was well under way before setting out. Through the twilight they traveled. It was only when the sky grew wholly black and the air turned suddenly cold that they unfolded the long caravan into a broad, temporary settlement.
Elishiba barely noticed the procedure. Tired and withdrawn from the emotion of the departure, she ate little and fell quickly into an uneasy sleep in the spacious tent erected for her and her closest companions.
On the second day, she felt stronger again, and became preoccupied with how and when she might speak with Amshazar. When she could not see him—and he watched her, too—she wondered where he was, and sought his image out. She also began to notice her surroundings more. Their passage away from the mountainous region brought them into a vaster landscape, marking the distance of their journey through a sparser region, where the people were still Aleemites, but lived a more nomadic life than her own kind.
