Chapter Five: Warden

When Amira woke up she found out that what she thought was a mere dream was crude reality. Her clothes were torn and her skin was covered in dirt and dried blood. Her head had been poorly wrapped with a piece of cloth which had soon being dyed red by her blood. She was no longer lying on her father's comfortable bed. Instead, she had been resting on cold, stone floor, behind vertical steel bars. She tried to stand up, but the nausea that accompanied her sudden movement kept her on the floor. She was cold, her body shivering slightly, and in pain.

"I see you are awake girly," the guard that had ordered her capture said with a smirk on his face. He was standing on the other side of the metal bars, obviously enjoying his catch. She turned to look at him and mustering all her will, she managed to bring herself to a sitting position, her back leaning on the stone wall behind her.

"Oh, you are the guard with the good memory," she teased, "I am amazed you were able to recognize me."

"Why, you really underestimate us, guards, don't you?" he asked her in return. Amira smiled at him, and nodded a yes. "We went through the old geezer's archives, you wench, and you were listed in them. Amira Bra'em, the daughter of Damascus golden merchant, involved in such a disgraceful thing, I think you should be thanking me for not spreading the news." He said approaching the bars, kneeling so that his eyes would more easily meet hers.

"I don't know what you are talking about," was all she could mutter. She knew it was a dead stupid reply, but she knew that playing stupid was the best way for women.

"Please, don't give me that." The guard said between chuckles. "I am amazed that old man taught girls though. I thought he was better than that. In fact, if he would sink as low as teaching women his death was but necessary."

Amira never minded the insults the other boys at the academy yelled at her nor the harsh words his father had to offer every time she did something unladylike. She never cared about being scolded or not, for she had learnt, with time, that letting things slide was the best way to go. What she never could stand, however, was hearing those she cared about, even if just a tiny bit, being insulted by others. So it was no surprise, that the man's remark on her master's death would ignite her blood.

"Maybe if he had taught you something you would not be such an ignorant fool." She replied, her voice shaking in anger. He glared at her, hostility spread all through his face. "Maybe then you would not act as an untamed animal."

"Listen to me woman!" He yelled, hitting the bars with his hands, he was as enraged as she hoped he'd be. "You better learn to know your place. Do you forget I am the one who has the power to end your life?"

"You hold no power over me," she said, refusing to give in. His eyes seemed to flash red for a while and his muscles all tensed. Clearly not used to being defied by a mere woman, his anger was getting the best of him and he was definitely not good at hiding it. Upon seeing his enraged expression, Amira thought, for the first time in her life, that she was lucky to be locked behind bars.

"Now, girly," he said, trying to calm himself down, "don't make me hurt you. After all, a dead dog is of no use for me. I came here to tell you that your execution has been scheduled for three days from now."

"You can't execute me," Amira replied. "You cannot prove that I am allied with the assassin."

"You were the only one present the day Jamil was murdered, if you were not allied with him, why would he let you live?" The guard asked, not expecting an answer.

"Their creed does not allow them to kill innocents." She replied, almost immediately and, exactly one second after she had said so, she started regretting it. The guard chuckled, enjoying her word slip.

"And how would you know that girly?" He asked her. Amira looked at him and then looked down, acknowledging defeat. "Then, you two were caught in a very…intimate, position, were you not?" Again, Amira refused to answer. "Now, if you were not involved with him you would've cried for help? If you were not involved, you would not have ran after him."

"I'm not with him," she said, firmly. She knew there was no way he'd believe her. Even if she pleaded and begged, she doubted it would change his mind.

"I know that," the guard admitted with a very wide and large smile of self-fulfillment.

"Then why are you keeping me here?!" She yelled at him, angered once again by his stupid attitude. "If you are trying to lure him here, it won't work!"

"Who says I want to get the assassin?" He asked her. "No, girly, that's not what I am after. See, after I realized who you were one ingle thought crossed my mind. 'Just how much money would daddy be willing to pay to see her free?'"

"You," she said with such spite. He was using her as a bargaining good, as an object with which to obtain money. She hated it. She hated every inch of his miserable soul at that moment. Her pale cheeks soon turned red with anger, letting him know that, he had finally driven her to an enraged state. "You will not get away with this," she finally pronounced, her voice breaking ever couple of words, "My father would never agree to such a thing."

"Oh, I do not mind, girly," he said nonchalantly, "if he refuses to pay you will simply be executed. What is one body among foundations?" He smiled at her before walking away. "You better hope he pays, girly." She heard him say, though he was much too far away to be seen. With him out of her sight, she finally allowed herself to break down.

Tears starting flowing from her eyes, though they were not tears of sorrow – they were tears of rage. But she wasn't entirely mad at the man who had just offered to pretty much sell her to her father nor was she mad at the man who had taken the life of her master and now longed to take the one of her father. She was mad herself for not being able to help his master, for letting his killer get away – though she knew, deep inside that she could not have fulfilled any of those tasks. She was mad at herself because she could not out run the guards nor could she fight them off. She was mad at herself for being weak.

Her helplessness had taken over her completely as the night began to crawl in. The satisfaction the dark sky and the cooler temperatures used to give her was absent under the conditions she found herself in. She could not stop thinking, assuming, about what will happen to her. Will her father pay the ransom? Or, will the assassin get to him first? There was silence around her and that just made her preoccupations escalade, becoming worse and worse as every second went by. The moonlight which filtered by the window outlined her silhouette. She had not moved from the spot she had fixed herself upon while talking to the guard. She did not even bother to reach for the food one of the warrens had thrown at her. She was trying to keep herself awake, but her body was putting quite the good fight incessantly trying her to sleep. She was afraid to sleep, that was the truth, she knew she was going to see everything again and she did not feel like remembering.

She closed her eyes however, but remained conscious. She was trying to think about the good things of her life. She thought it might help her deal with the circumstances, thought it would help her cope. Though, in the end, thinking about the things she was about to lose only ended up hurting more. She sighed, slowly opening her eyes. To her surprise, on the other side of the metal bars a lonely shadowed figure stood. It was wearing a hood, though she could not distinguish the color. Unsure of whether she was imagining things or not, she closed her eyes again. She quickly opened them again, when she heard the sound of keys jingling. She looked at the man standing before her.

"Come on," he whispered, a soft smile pressed on his face. "Let's get out of here."