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“Why?”
“What you did before was a bit jarring.”
He stood, and she was unbearably aware of how small she was next to him. She only came just to his shoulder, and he was so... Broad and imposing. He could end her with one hand if he chose to.
He didn’t seem volatile in that way, though. At least, she hoped he wasn’t.
She took a step toward him, and his body made a strange sort of motion that reminded her of a horse. A great stallion that you had to approach with care. It made her want to extend her hand slowly and let him get her scent. Maybe offer him a sugar cube.
He’s not an animal. He’s a man.
And yet she looked at him, and could clearly see both, and she had to wonder how much that was true of every human. And just how much they had all learned to suppress it.
That more elemental side of them.
Because in these few moments she had spent with Riyaz, what she had learned was that he was almost entirely elemental.
“You pull your chair back slowly,” she instructed, “and don’t try to make a sound with it.”
“I do not understand. Why people are always trying to... Silence themselves.”
“You’re used to being by yourself. And... Well, here there are always many people. So if we all made all the noise we wanted... It might be a problem.”
“But I’m the Sheikh. Surely I can have as much of the noise as I want.”
“All right. That’s... Fair. However. Why don’t we learn and then...?”
“You know what I do remember when I look at you? My teacher when I was in the nursery. I am not in the nursery.” He took a step toward her. “I am not a boy. You do not need to speak to me as if you are teaching me shapes and colors.” He was so close that she could smell the scent of him. Soap and skin. And something wild beneath that. Her hands were shaking, her heart throbbing, and she couldn’t seem to make either one stop.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, in the same way that he had just said all those other things. The same tone. It was not soft, it was not said to flatter. It was an observation, like the many that he had made since they’d met, and somehow, that made it almost more... Flattering. Because he didn’t lie. And he didn’t say things to get a response. At least, not that she’d observed.
“Thank you,” she said.
She couldn’t remember the last time someone had called her beautiful. If they ever had.
“Do you know how many years I went without seeing anything beautiful? Not a flower. Not the sun, not the desert. Not a woman. Just gray stone walls, wrought-iron bars. Men in uniform. Perhaps they were beautiful to someone, but not to me. The same food. The same space. Everything is different out here.”
“Right. Well. Let’s... You sit. But... Softer.”
This time, his lips did curve. “I do not know that I possess the ability to do anything softer. But perhaps with more care.”
“Maybe,” she said.
And she watched as he took his seat. This time, much better.
“You can square your chair up to the table, so that you are sitting facing those who are sitting with you.”
“Why did you get the same meal I did?” he asked, taking another bite.
“It seemed polite,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because I feel as if you... Did not choose to have porridge so much as you are transitioning into the space. And I thought maybe it would make you feel like I recognize that.”
“You worry too much about other people. It doesn’t matter to me what you eat.”
“Now I know that for next time.”
