Tamina sat down at the desk in her study. She had meant to write a dispatch that would soon be overdue, but she could not get her mind into it. Her thoughts kept circling around Dastan. She had received a carrier pigeon four days ago notifying her that he would be in Alamut soon and she had been looking forward to it.

The image of him, standing in the clean, white hall, covered in dirt, popped into her mind for something like the tenth time. She had suddenly seen a side to Dastan which she would like to know more of. The Dastan who took action, fought fiercely, and roamed the desert – and who dressed in a clingy, moist vest and bare shoulders! If only it was true that he actually was in love with her, not just trying to be nice. Even though she tried not to admit it to herself, she wanted nothing more than to be swept up into those wonderful, muscular arms.

She was still lost in thought when the knock on her door could be heard.

"Enter!" she called, hoping it would be Dastan and not just some official. The heavy wooden door opened and indeed it was her prince. She rose from her seat as he crossed the room in quick strides. He was all clean now and he had even shaved. His hair was not yet dry; small droplets of water dripped from its tips onto the collar of his loose and, regrettably, long-sleeved shirt. As he came close to kiss her cheek the way he always did, she breathed carefully in, trying to find his own smell behind that of the lightly perfumed soap he had used. But he pulled away again before she had any luck.

She subdued a feeling of frustration over the kiss on her cheek. It was a nice gesture, but it was always the same. Could he not think of something new? Something a little bolder perhaps? He made her feel like an old aunt.

"Hello, Tamina, my love," he said, looking into her eyes and holding her hand.

"Hello, Dastan."

"Are you well?"

"I am in good health, thank you."
He kept holding her hand, stroking the back of it gently with his thumb. It seemed like he had longed to see her. Still, he did not really say anything of significance.

"Such a puzzle you are, Dastan," she said, smiling.

"What do you mean?" He asked a little taken aback. He wanted to be an open book to her. But after so many months, she still called him a puzzle. Why was it so hard? Something his father had said about him came to mind: He plunges into a hundred foes without thought, but at the prospect of matrimony he stands frozen with fear. And then there are those who say he is not yet wise. Well, that 'wisdom' surely was not helping him right now.

"Nothing," she said, holding his gaze intently.

She was the puzzling one, if you asked him. He released her hand and stepped a couple of paces back.

"Why don't you sit down and tell me about your journey," Tamina suggested.

Dastan did what she had said, but as always, the recount of his journey was rather short and uninformative. He did not imagine she would be interested in the incident with the robbers which had been almost disappointing, or how he had had a good, fun gallop on Mitra one evening along the Oasis of Ahil-Tar. What would that mean to her? She rarely left Alamut or even the palace.

"There is something I would like to ask you, Tamina," he said, moving his chair a little closer to her behind the desk. He felt nervous that she might reject his request, but in any case he would rather get it over with sooner than later.

"What is it, Dastan?" Tamina said. He rarely asked her for anything. She wondered what it could be.

He had speculated for the last three days on the exact words he should use to make his request. Now he spoke them: "As you know, in four days' time is our first wedding anniversary. And I would like to celebrate it with you, by taking you on a ride."

"A ride? To where?"

"A place I would like to show you."

"Is it far? How long do we need to be away?" she asked, thinking about her duties.

Dastan was happy did not reject the idea right away. She might say yes! "Just three days. Please agree to come. It would make me very happy."

How could she resist those golden brown eyes of his, even if she wanted to? And she did not want to. It seemed that Dastan finally had decided to make a move, and she was genuinely interested in whatever this curious man wished to show her. "I would very much like to come, Dastan," she said.

"Thank you, my love. You will not regret it, I promise."

"Do I need to make any preparations?" she asked.

"No. I'll take care of everything. Just be ready to leave after breakfast on our anniversary," he replied with a wry smile and a sideways glance at her, before he took his place sitting by the window, just watching her while she finished her dispatch.

An hour later she was done and she decided to go to her advisor Firouz to inform him of the trip with Dastan. Firouz would then rearrange her schedule so that her absence from the palace would be felt as little as possible. She parted from Dastan in the hallway after agreeing to see him again at dinner. She could have sent a messenger for Firouz, but after sitting at the desk for so long, she rather preferred to walk to the counsel room herself.

"Firouz, a word please," she said when she had stepped through the door, which a servant held open for her.

"Princess! Of course, what can I do for you?" Firouz was a man in his forties with short, greying hair, thin and sort of hard with an absolutely straight-backed posture and a burning gaze. He invoked respect in all of his subordinates and his implacable determination made him an excellent advisor.

She explained about Dastan's request and bade Firouz to rearrange her schedule so that she might be free to leave for three days.

"Of course, that is no problem, my princess," he assured her. "But are you sure it is a good idea to go away with prince Dastan – alone, as I presume you'll be?"

"He is my husband, Firouz, I could hardly refuse."

"Of course not. It's just that I would hate to see him … take advantage of you in any way. You could make an excuse even if you could not refuse."

"Nonsense. Prince Dastan means me no harm. It is my wish to go with him on this trip," Tamina said in a tone that would not accept further argument. She walked away from the counsel room puzzled over what Firouz had said. Well, he had known her all her life and had the responsibility for her since her father had died when she was only six. He was just concerned for her. It was touching, even. But she was absolutely convinced that Dastan only had her good health and happiness in mind.

Later that evening, after their private dinner which went quite well, Dastan went out for a stroll and Tamina went to her chambers where she opened the heavy lid of an old chest. She rummaged a little in the slightly disordered contents. Then she found the item that she was looking for. She sat back on her haunches and examined it. She had not looked at it for years. Memories from her childhood popped up in her mind. Satisfied that the item was in an acceptable condition, she slid it into an embroidered cotton pouch with a drawstring that she subsequently pulled close. She then placed the pouch in a little leather bag, that she intended to bring on the trip with Dastan, carrying her few essentials, including the Dagger of Time, which was secretly supposed to follow her any time she left the city.

The following days went steadily by. Tamina began to feel satisfaction instead of irritation about Dastan's awkward silence and long shot gazes. She had the feeling that he was just biding his time. When they were away from the palace, on neutral ground, when he was in his own element, she was sure he would open up to her. She was quite busy because of the rearrangement of her schedule. She had to get ahead with her dispatches, leave orders for her chamberlain and also spend more time in prayer that her city would be safe in her absence. But she had no regrets whatsoever about leaving, not when it was for such a short time. In fact, she found that she looked forward to it more and more for every hour that passed. Her duties meant that she seldom left the palace. It would be wonderful to get away from the daily humdrum and routine. It would be wonderful to be just herself, with Dastan.

She was beginning to get irritated, however, by her advisor Firouz. Every day he repeated his concern and advised her to stay at home. On the day before her wedding anniversary, it simply became too much.

"Come now, Firouz, speak openly. On what circumstance do you base your concern? I am beginning to think you have something against my husband! If you do not tell me what it is, I will not hear another word from you on the subject, do you understand?"

"Yes, my princess. I … well I had hoped to spare your ears from the disheartening news I have heard about prince Dastan's way of conducting himself. But if you leave me no choice ..."

"I do not. Speak, now," Tamina said very angrily.

"I've heard from a highly reliable source in Nasaf that prince Dastan is not at all a man of honour. That he is known to spend every evening in the taverns of the lower Nasaf, drinking undiluted wine until he cannot control himself, smashing both tables and jugs and heads in his ravages. And then he is often seen dragging off the nearest tavern wench to suit his pleasure. The Persians have clearly done a great deal to keep these rumours from us, princess Tamina. It saddens me more than I can say. You deserve much better, my princess. But it only gets worse. He is also said to be cruel to his servants and deceitful towards his friends and family, always hoping to extract personal gain from their situations."

Tamina's determined expression changed into one of doubt and confusion as he spoke.

"But still, that is not all, princess."

"What could be worse?" she asked incredulously.

"He is a known murderer. If anybody gets on the wrong side of him, they tend to be found poisoned or with a blade in their back. But so far he has escaped justice, no doubt through his influence as a member of the royal family."

She was silent for a considerable time after Firouz had stopped speaking. The advisor's words shocked her, she had to admit. But then she pulled herself together.

"That's not the Dastan I know," she said. "It must be lies. Your source must have something against him and hopes to get him in trouble by saying these things. Prince Dastan would never do anything like that. That is not like him at all!" The picture of Dastan berserking in drunken madness or stabbing someone in the back was just totally unimaginable to her.

"Would you say you know him very well, princess?" Firouz asked carefully. He knew that she would have to say no, because he had often witnessed the polite distance with which the two treated each other.

"Perhaps I do not yet know him very deeply, Firouz. But you have seen Dastan's conduct here. He is nothing but kindness and thoughtfulness!"

"It might well be an act, princess Tamina."

She was silent for a moment, deep in though.

"On another note, Firouz, you should not have kept this information from me. I am not a child any more, I can think and act for myself," she said irritably, though her previous anger had subsided.

"Very well. You have my deepest apologies."

"Your apology is accepted. I'll be on my way if there is nothing else."

"What will you do about tomorrow, princess?"

"I don't know yet. I will sleep on it."

She went to her chambers. Dastan had already let her know that he would not come by this evening, giving her time to prepare mentally for the long ride. She was very confused. Firouz had described his news as 'disheartening'. Well, that was exactly how she felt now: Utterly disheartened. She had just become aware that the image she had formed of Dastan up until now was almost too good to be true. He seemed almost angelic. If only Firouz' source had exaggerated somewhat, the real Dastan would probably be no worse than the average Persian warrior prince. The rest was just evil slander, she hoped. It was funny, though. Dastan's gentle and polite behaviour towards her had slowly made her forget that she was lucky that he was even her age. That he even wanted to spend time with her. That they might turn out to be on the same wavelength would be a miracle. But she did not want to believe he was just like all the others. She wanted to believe that he was all he seemed to be. But which person was she to trust more? Her lifelong guardian and advisor? Or her elusive, polite but rather strange, husband-by-arrangement, who she had never really spoken openly with? It could be that Dastan was a degraded villain, but one that hoped to correct himself with the support of his newly won virtuous wife and the change of scenery and acquaintance that Alamut provided? Yet, that idea was not very satisfactory, because it still implied that Dastan had not been entirely honest with her. She speculated for hours until she finally fell into a restless sleep.