Desert Flower

As the sunset faded and the sky began to darken, Anzhelika stepped out onto the flat roof of the palace. The roof was habitable; carpets with colorful pillows scattered across them lay on it, and a silver jug ​​sat on a low table. A pair of oil lamps burned on stands, crackling faintly in the stillness of the night. Salah ad-Din still hadn't returned, and Anzhelika, tired of asking the maids if they'd heard anything, wanted a change of scenery. She wandered around the palace for a bit and came here, up a small staircase winding inside a narrow tower. The cozy atmosphere of the rooftop contrasted even more with Anzhelika's loneliness. The girl sighed, sat down on the carpet, and before she knew it, she'd fallen asleep... When she awoke, night had completely taken over the sky. Anzhelika rose and walked to the railing. Somewhere above, stars twinkled, and the moon peeked out from behind a ragged cloud. The girl shivered from the night chill and unconsciously wrapped her arms around herself. A cloak fell softly over her shoulders. Anzhelika looked up – Salah ad-Din was standing next to her, smiling, his dark eyes sparkling merrily in the lamplight. "Where have you been all day?" the girl breathed, feeling a warmth spreading within her, along with relief. "We were in a nearby village and got into a little skirmish," the Sultan explained, leaning on the railing next to the girl. His shirt was fairly loose, but when he moved, his flat stomach was visible underneath. "Did you win?" Anzhelika's eyes lit up with enthusiasm. Salah ad-Din smiled—white teeth flashing beneath his moustache—and nodded. Fatigue left him with every moment he was with her—from her concern, from her energy—as if the entire difficult day had never happened. "A local boy reported the enemy to my scouts, and my patrol, which had been tracking them for days, notified the palace," said the Sultan. "And I immediately arrived with my best cavalry. We surrounded the enemy and engaged them in battle." Anzhelika watched the Sultan recount his experiences of the day as calmly as if he were recounting what he had for breakfast, and she felt both admiration for his courage and a desire to hug him tighter, press her cheek against his, and say, "Be careful." She wondered what it would be like to cuddle up to him with all her... "Are you all right?" Anzhelika asked out loud. "Absolutely," the Sultan smiled warmly. "And were the enemies really hiding from you? That's what the rumors were." "Yes, they were only scouting and avoiding getting too close," Salah ad-Din replied. "...But you got tired of them avoiding you, so you caught them and gave them a good thrashing?" Salah ad-Din laughed. "Exactly," he replied. "Few escaped alive... I left a reconnaissance detachment there." "Why?" Anzhelika asked, surprised. "This isn't the first time enemies have been spotted near this village—and in two other places in the outskirts of the city," the Sultan explained. "My patrol has been watching each of these places day and night. I don't think they'll stop after today, and I want to know what they'll do next. Richard is exploring the approaches to Jerusalem..." "I still hope the enemies won't be drawn to any more adventures," Anzhelika frowned. She paused for a moment and then said, trying to add as much capriciousness as she could to her voice: "I've been worried all day as it is." Salah ad-Din smiled serenely and answered her—his quiet, hoarse voice sounded not as warm as usual, but scorchingly hot: "Once upon a time, the great Arab poet Al-Mu'tamid, who was also a military leader, wrote these lines: Beloved, while the poor reed halts and lingers, Tracing strange patterns in my heedless fingers, The long, slow tears Make bold to write upon my tell-tale cheek In a clear hand the things I dare not speak. But for this strife and warring after power I might have corne to thee, as to the flower Nightly the dew, Once, only once, from thy warm sleep to wake thee, To love thee for a night, and then forsake thee." "Very beautiful," Anzhelika whispered, glad that in the semi-darkness her blush was hidden (probably). Just the sound of his voice, muffled yet passionate, like coals crackling beneath the ashes, sent a gentle tickle through her throat, and she felt like she was about to purr. The tower door slammed behind them, and Salah ad-Din turned around before the warrior who had burst onto the roof cried out: "Oh, Sultan! Enemy troops have attacked the nearby village and are burning houses!" "Order my horse to be saddled," Salah ad-Din said as he ran, hurrying after the warrior who had rushed back into the tower. Anzhelika, blinking absently and not yet fully comprehending what had just happened—the Sultan had already reached for the door handle—took a few steps after him and said in confusion, "Salah ad-Din, please be careful." The Sultan turned for a second—his black eyes looked into hers—and he nodded gravely, without a smile: "Thank you, Angelica." In a flash, he slipped out the door. Anzhelika followed him down the stairs, not even thinking of catching up. His quick footsteps faded somewhere below. Less than a minute passed before the entire palace was filled with noise and movement. Warriors and servants ran here and there, someone shouted orders. Anzhelika glanced around, but saw no sign of the Sultan. Following the chaotic movement of the crowd, the girl walked out onto the porch and stood by the railing, still wrapped in Salah ad-Din's cloak, just in time to see the Sultan's black stallion being brought to him. Salah ad-Din mounted his horse as light as the wind, and was immediately surrounded by a small detachment of horsemen. After a short command, the Sultan rode ahead of them out of the courtyard. A large crowd of other horsemen had already gathered outside the gates; they parted to let the Sultan through, then closed in behind him. Two servants slammed the gates shut. Everyone began to disperse, vying with each other to explain what had happened, and Anzhelika wandered off to her room. Everything had happened so suddenly that her thoughts were racing through her head, interrupting one another. "How quickly Salah ad-Din reacts," she thought admiringly. But her thoughts immediately returned uneasily to the fact that the problem must have been serious if Salah ad-Din had personally taken it upon himself to solve it. And the danger was very real. Anzhelika returned to her room, pulling her cloak over her shoulders—not from the cold, but simply because it was his cloak. She gently stroked the soft fabric and stepped out onto the balcony. The palace, like the city, was gradually growing quiet, and only a light breeze drifted through the streets. The door slammed, and Anzhelika's maids, Najma and Leyla, returned. Anzhelika stepped out from the balcony and addressed them: "Girls, when Salah ad-Din returns... if he needs my help as a healer... And in any case, when he returns, please wake me. Necessarily." The maids nodded quickly, looking at her with concern. Anzhelika slowly removed her cloak and placed it on a chair, dismissing the maids for the night. She quickly undressed and climbed into bed, pulling the covers over herself. She rolled over and glanced out the uncurtained window... Minute after minute passed, and the moon poured its silvery light into the room. Anzhelika couldn't help but listen to the sounds outside – silence. Silence reigned in the palace, too. "He can't be back that quickly... This isn't like driving a car." The girl rolled over again. "Time to sleep." She didn't fall asleep for a long time.