Disclaimer: Still don't own it.

Chapter 4 The Opera

When Ardeth returned to the museum that night, Fuad was waiting for him at the entrance. He knew just by the mild frown upon his younger brother's clean shaven face that he was going to say something Ardeth did not want to hear. Fuad rarely frowned, and Ardeth was never pleased when he did. "Brother, I have matters to attend to about a shipment of artifacts. I need you to do me a favor," Fuad said even before he greeted his brother by grasping his forearm.

Ardeth gave the cursory nod for his brother to continue. Fuad knew already that Ardeth was willing to do anything that was necessary. It probably was not the sort of place to discuss such matter because a constant stream of people passed them as they spoke, but Ardeth was rarely awarded the convenience of time. His brother may be upset, but Ardeth had other duties to attend to as well.

"I need you to escort Mrs. Al Hafeez to the opera this evening. I take her once a month, but…" Fuad tried to explain, but he saw the fire rising in his brother's eyes. Ardeth didn't like surprises to begin with. He especially didn't like surprises that involved people he disliked.

"Can't just send your regrets to Mrs. Al Hafeez?" he asked quickly not wishing to see Mercedes again for a long time. The fiery Spaniard, a fact he learned from his brother, was not someone he wished to get better acquainted with.

"I already gave her my word. During our discussion this morning, Mercy promised me that she would help you if you were honest with her. She also promised to be less insulting if you're more open with her. Perhaps if you show her kindness tonight, then she will do the same to you," Fuad said as he began to straighten his appearance. "I really must be leaving. Will you take her or not, Ardeth?" he asked finally.

Ardeth did not speak for a long moment, before he looked his brother in the eye and grasped his shoulder firmly. "You know that it is highly improper to refer to her by her first name?" Ardeth asked sternly before sighing, "I'll do this for you, Fuad, but I cannot promise you that all will go well tonight," Ardeth said carefully.

Fuad rolled his eyes and nodded with the boyish smile that he was known for at home within the tribe. "If you wish to, you can borrow a pair of trousers and shirt. The pants should fit you since they are impossibly long on me," he laughed as he returned his brother's embrace. He knew that he would regret this request when Ardeth would do nothing but complain in the next week. But if they needed Mercedes' help, he could not simply cancel a tradition that they had kept for the past four years.

"Why would I wear your clothes?" Ardeth asked confusedly looking at his own dusty rags as though they were the robes of a king.

"Perhaps because you might just scare people if you wear those robes, especially with the swords attached," Fuad said seriously. Ardeth often didn't realize just how intimidating he was. When Ardeth went to protest Fuad just cut him off. "Do as you wish, brother, but I have to go. Since you went sneaking about in her rooms, I suppose I do not need to show you where she lives," Fuad said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Ardeth growled at Fuad's sense of humor as his brother winked and disappeared into the fading light.

Ardeth shook his head at his brother's back and entered the museum tiredly. It seemed as though he would never get a chance to speak with Fuad about the matter of the caravan. Truly it was far more personal than simply a cart of crusty artifacts. Fuad had a right to know, but it seemed as though they would never get a chance to speak privately about it.

XxXxXxX

Mercedes stood before her full length mirror once again as she prepared for the opera. Fuad often questioned her as to why she never missed a performance at the Royal Opera House, but she always answered him in vagaries. In truth, the opera was one of the few links to her life before Egypt. As a child living in Barcelona, she had enjoyed spending evenings outside the doors of the opera house. Most of the children flocked there to beg off the rich patrons or possibly pickpocket them, but Mercedes enjoyed nothing more than to press her small ear against the doors of the opera house and listen to the faint voices of some of Europe's finest singers. It was one of the only indulgences that she still allowed herself, even now when there was so little of that little girl left within her.

She held up the silken fabric over her stunning figure. She scrutinized the gown with a practiced eye. Every detail had to be perfect or else it would have to be sent back to Italy for alterations…again. She did not care for her own image, but she refused to showcase the work of others if it was anything less that perfect. After several minutes of scrutiny, she slipped into the lush fabric and once again took in the image she saw in the mirror. The silhouette was fashionable to all the film stars that she had only heard of in her little estate far removed from such carefree lifestyles. All she knew was that the dress looked as stunning as the man who made it for her had promised. The sleeveless gown dip so low in the back, that she would be the talk of society for weeks to come. Oh, how she loved to shake up the little selfish existences of all of these proper people. The only difference between Mercedes Al Hafeez and the rest of society was that she flaunted her wickedness with a rouged smile that would make the most pious of men take a second look.

Once she was happy with the appearance of her dress, she sat before her handcrafted vanity and began to curl and pin her hair into the fashion that she desired. Looking out the archway to the balcony, she noted that Fuad was late. The sun was beginning to dip lower toward the horizon, and she yet to be informed of his arrival. He was ever the punctual escort, and she began to worry at his tardiness. She would never admit it, but Mercedes worried for Fuad as if he were her own son. Though she was only three years his senior, she felt that if she didn't protect him then no one would. Certainly his elder, good for nothing, brother was not around enough to ensure Fuad's protection. Fuad may have lived in Cairo for six years, but he was still naïve to the true workings of the city. Usually, Mercedes preyed on men such as Fuad, but he had turned down her advances with a kind smile saying that he only believed in loving one woman and though she was beautiful and witty, he knew it was not her. Since that day, she had guarded him from the most unsavory members of Cairo society without even realizing it. Often she would find herself in a heated argument with one official or other over Fuad's reluctance to simply hand out historical documents or artifacts.

Sighing slightly, Mercedes finished manipulating her short hair into finger curls that led to beautiful pin curls that rested at the base of her neck. She looked in the mirror as she applied rouge to her lips which to most people in Cairo was the mark of a whore. However, Mercedes never let that stop her from wearing it proudly. On her, the harsh red lips only added to her cold persona that most people feared.

As she was just finishing the last of her preparations, Mus'ad rapped lightly upon her door. Mus'ad announced the arrival of her escort through the thick wooden doors, and Mercedes rose from her seat and left the room as though any further preparation would have been useless.

Mercedes quickly descended the marble staircase without a care as to how eager it made her look. As she reached the lower landing before taking the final stairs, she looked down at who she thought would be Fuad and nearly tumbled the rest of the way down the marble steps. Only years of practice prevented Mercedes from showing her emotions on her face as a banner for all to see. Inside she was seething that Ardeth had the audacity to enter her home after she had told him that he was not welcome. She was even further incensed by the fact that she found his brother nowhere in sight.

When Ardeth heard the clicking of heals upon the stairs he didn't bother to look up. He already knew what she looked like; he didn't need to gawk as she walked down the expensive marble stairs. He was much more interested in the opulence of the house that he could see from where he stood. He didn't raise his eyes to her until he heard her clear her throat impatiently. However, when he raised his eyes to see what she wanted from him, he felt as though all of the air had been knocked out of his lungs. If he had thought she looked indecent this morning with her calves showing, then she looked downright scandalous tonight. Ardeth wasn't sure, but he thought he saw red splashed across her thin lips making them bolder and more sensual, but surely no self-respecting woman would wear rouge! He took in her whole appearance from where he stood frozen in his spot. It looked as thought the creamy olive silk had been draped across her shoulders so that it just skimmed her chest and torso before being pulled at the waist by a belt of material. The skirt of the dress then skimmed over her shapely hips before tapering in toward the knee then flaring out allowing her to employ her usual haughty walk. And her back looked to be completely bare from the glimpses he caught as she stood on an angle.

"It's impolite to gawk. I expect my escort to behave with a certain air of decorum. So, if you'd please lift your jaw off of my recently polished floors before you dirty them, and come here and take my arm, I would be most appreciative," Mercedes side with a lifted chin. She stood as though she posed for a painter. Had her morals and personality not been so lacking, Ardeth would have found her quite beautiful, indeed.

"I believe it is also impolite to insult the man who is kind enough to take the time to escort you to the opera," Ardeth said as he slowly approached her where she stood on the first step. However, he once again kept his eyes firmly planted on her face and not a centimeter below it. He offered her his arm tensely and she took it easily enough, though she own posture was stiff as well.

Mercedes stood for a moment taking in Ardeth's appearance. He had actually forgone the horrendous black robes and donned a pair of trousers and suspenders that looked very out of place on his sinewy frame. She could still smell the stench of horse and sweat on him, and she could only guess that the outfit belonged to his brother because it looked vaguely familiar. However, though the look left much to be desired, she would not insult him for the attempt to look civilized. "Forgive me, Chieftain. I am grateful that you've taken the time to escort me to the opera. However, I must inquire as to your brother's absence?" she apologized as she recalled her promise to Fuad.

"My brother was called to meeting about the deportation of several artifacts," Ardeth informed her calmly as he tried to understand why she would apologize. Mercedes simply nodded her understanding before allowing Ardeth to lead her down the final step. As they walked side by side Ardeth felt Mercedes posture became much less stiff making her more elegant if that were possible. In turn, Ardeth's own posture became less tense. Though he was far from comfortable in his brother's garments, he realized why Fuad wore them. Mercedes had treated him with a respect he had not known from her when he wore his tribal garments.

XxXxXxX

Ardeth immediately felt uncomfortable as he stepped out of the car to offer Mercedes his hand. When she stepped out of the vehicle, Mercy turned to him with an appraising eye. With a small smirk she straightened his collar before tugging his arm lightly to lead her into the opera house. The immense white building with strong pillars in front was a sight to behold, but more so than that the people clustering in through the doors were equally as interesting. Though Mercedes was still the most scandalously dress, Ardeth found that many other women were also wearing fashions that he had never experienced before.

As they entered, Ardeth allowed Mercedes to dictate their direction as she made her way through the crowds greeting those she deemed suitable to be seen with. Ardeth stood off to the side as she spoke endlessly with a small group. He heard several of the women giggle and some of the men speak disgustedly. It was not hard to figure out that he was the topic of conversation. What was hard to believe was Mercedes' reaction to their harsh words. "Chieftain Bay happens to be the brother of one of my dearest friends. I do not take kindly to insults placed against either of them," he heard her say in that gratingly superior tone that caused everyone within the group to fall silent. Mercedes turned and left the group with her chin still held high as she returned to Ardeth's side. He said nothing of her defense of him, but internally questioned why she would do such a thing.

As they began to mount the steps to the box she had reserved, they heard a high pitched squeal behind them. Lady Arlington hurried up to them cutting passed those who bustled about in the lobby, looking anything but like a lady. "You just had to get yourself a desert servant first. How could you, and to get such a handsome one. Now I will never be pleased with my pitiful desert girl when she arrives," Lady Arlington pouted as she let her gaze feast on Ardeth who now stood stiff as a rod beside Mercedes.

Mercedes could have wrung the woman's neck if so many people had not surrounded them. As she had told Ardeth, she expected a certain level of decorum from those she associated with, and Lady Arlington knew nothing of poise. How could a husband allow such behavior? "I assure you he is not mine. He is only a friend," she said placating Lady Arlington. She could see the tick in Ardeth's jaw as he watched Lady Arlington, as well as how stiff he had become so suddenly. Mercedes actually found herself missing the comfortable silence they had established on the ride here. It was far better than the furious Ardeth she had come to know so well.

"Friends? I thought you said that desert men were dreary creatures?" Lady Arlington asked with a look of disgust marring her features. Had she seen her own appearance she would not have been so critical of others. Her breasts heaved against the thin fabric of her outrageous canary colored costume of a dress, and her large bun was askew from the run across the lobby.

"Yes, we are friends," was all Mercedes said as she tried to pull Ardeth away from the confrontation. She did not feel the need to explain herself to Lady Arlington, nor did she feel the need to continue to be in her presence.

"What is this talk of a desert servant?" Ardeth asked through clenched teeth once they were up the stairs and out of earshot of a confused looking Lady Arlington.

"Is it truly any of your business?" she asked with a raised brow as she took her seat and motioned for him to take the one to her right. The curtain rose and the scene was beginning. Mercedes barely listened to him as she watched the ornately dressed woman step out into the light of the stage and begin the show.

"Please, I must know. What do you know of this servant?" he asked earnestly as he sat beside her, completely oblivious to the beginning of the opera.

Mercedes turned her head away from the stage when she heard the pleading in his voice, and she saw the worry and truth in his eyes. Perhaps he was not so different from his brother when he did not feel threatened. Suddenly, the show that she had looked forward to all week seemed to pale in comparison to the pleading in this grown man's voice.

"I know very little, actually. Lord Arlington has promised that halfwit of a wife that we met downstairs a desert girl to basically be her slave. I do not know where this girl is from, but I assume she is to come with that caravan since it is due about the same time. Now, why is this so important to you?" she asked when she saw some of the color drain from Ardeth's normally bronze features. Ardeth suddenly felt as though he were drowning. His collar felt too tight, and his clothing too heavy. He could feel the sweat begin to bead upon his skin. "Chieftain Bay?" he heard his name called, but he was too lost to answer. "Ardeth? Ardeth, what's wrong. You look ill," Mercedes asked urgently as she saw the dazed look in his eyes and the sweat upon his brow. Suddenly, Ardeth's world began to spin, and he felt like he was going to be ill.

XxXxX

I rewrote this chapter so many times my head began to swim. I made the language less stiff, and tried not to depend so much on dialog. So, I hope that it was better than the last few chapters. Things are going to be more action packed from here out so don't give up on it yet. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please tell me what you think; I always use your critiques to help me improve. Thanks for reading!