Dastan found Garsiv alone from the stables; the older brother was looking rather happy with himself, although there was a nasty red scratch that stretched from his eyebrow to the side of his nose.

"What happened between you and Samira?" asked Dastan without any greetings. He surprised himself when he heard how angry he sounded; of course Garsiv had done wrong, but his anger felt more personal than usual. Garsiv seemed rather bored than surprised by his brother's voice.

"Oh Dastan, it was nothing. I just wanted to test if she is as fiery as she acts."

"Keep your hands off her!" Dastan said, voice rising by every word. What is this, he thought to himself, why am I so upset? It's really not my business, they are both adults and…

"Don't you say to me what to do or what not to do!" Garsiv became provoked. "If you want her, make your move! It's so obvious that you want her but if you can't do anything about it, then let better men do it for you. And it's not like she is untouchable anymore; all maids are just common whores!"

Dastan reacted instinctively; he jumped towards his brother, without any weapons but his fists. Garsiv had a whip in his hand; he slashed it and hit Dastan right in the ear and stepped aside. Dastan hit the floor, ear gushing blood all over the hays on the stable floor.

Garsiv stood beside Dastan, looking down at him victory gleaming in his eyes.

"Don't get too attached to a servant girl. You know you are too good for them," Garsiv said and walked away from the stable. As Dastan was alone, he tried to stop the bleeding while thinking of Garsiv's words.

Actually, it was quite obvious, Dastan thought later that night. He couldn't sleep; all he could do was sit on his bed and run his fingers through his hair all over again. Funny thing is that everyone else seems to have seen it before I did.

When Garsiv had said that Dastan's affection towards Samira was obvious, Dastan started to think about it seriously. They had known each other for ten years, had developed a deep friendship and a close bond. He had grown beside her and thus a band had grown in front of his eyes – he hadn't seen Samira's beauty in its fullest.

Hours went by. The pale crescent faded away but Dastan was still awake. Finally, when the shy sunlight tickled his face pulling him back from his thoughts, he got up. He admitted to himself that he might actually have loved Samira since the very beginning; if not all the time, then at least for quite some time now. Only problem is, he thought as he got dressed, I don't have any idea how to tell her that or if it is even wise to say anything. He left his room frustrated and happened to gaze at the picture of the late Queen. His tired brains didn't realize at that moment, but an idea had started to form in his head.

If Garsiv had really felt like he won something back at the stables, he surely didn't feel like that in the night. In fact, he was ashamed already when he turned his back on his brother; but companions named Pride and Shame walked him away and he couldn't turn back.

Garsiv wasn't proud of what he did to Samira either; he was just used to maids and other girls doing exactly what he wanted. He was also angry at Samira's resentment towards him; he was jealous that she and Dastan obviously shared something deeper than Garsiv had ever experienced; he was tired of shoving Dastan forward and had decided to take action himself. Garsiv changed position on his bed and thought that at least his last sentence to Dastan had been right; they were too good for maids.

Samira hadn't seen Dastan since the day Garsiv attacked her, almost a week ago. She was getting nervous day by day; she still wasn't sure why Dastan had got so upset and why he hadn't confronted her ever since. Had Dastan actually been angry at Garsiv? And if he had, had Garsiv explained the situation so well that Dastan was now angry at Samira? Dastan seemed to have disappeared from the palace; Samira had seen him only once, when he had ridden to the town as fast as he had chasers after him.

Finally she lost her patience and turned to Bis. He must have something in his knowledge that might explain Dastan's behavior! She found Bis after fight rehearsals and asked him to walk with her.

"Have you noticed anything strange in Dastan?" Samira started apprehensively, as she didn't know how much Bis knew about her, Dastan and Garsiv.

"Like what?" asked Bis with a small smile on his lips. He took a sip of water from a vase Samira had brought him.

"He hasn't said anything to me in weeks, has he said anything that might show why?" Samira proceeded.

"Look, he has a lot on his mind right now. Don't worry, he's not mad at you," Bis continued quickly when Samira's expression changed from worried to horrified. "You mean the world to him."

Samira blushed after Bis's last words but wasn't entirely sure why. It was also relief to hear Dastan wasn't angry but otherwise Bis hadn't been too helpful. Samira missed Dastan so much it hurt. Quite odd really; Dastan had been away for long periods at a time before, but never had Samira missed him so. Now he wasn't even away! Still she longed to see him, graved his presence and missed his touch. If it had been anyone else but Dastan, she even might have thought that this was… No, of course it can't be, Samira said to herself. I have always loved Dastan, why would I suddenly be IN love with him? This has got to be something else.

Finally, twelve nights after their last conversation, the two met again. Samira was walking slowly from the palace to home, as she had done lately; she walked so slowly she almost got cold even in the steamy nights of Persia. Or maybe her chills came from the painful waiting of something she didn't quite recognize?

"Wait," said a voice behind her, and she didn't even flinch, as if it had been planned. She just turned and saw her friend and at the sight of him Samira's heart punched harder than normally.

"Hi," she whispered and pulled the fabric around her shoulders closer to her skin. Orchids spread their tantalizing scent around them. It was dark since the moon had hidden her face.

"'Sorry' would be nice," she said then, as Dastan didn't say anything but just looked at her. His gaze was serious, but there was such a warmth in his eyes that it melted Samira's irritation, if there even were any.

"Believe me, I am," he said. They had somehow inched closer each other; there was only a yard between them, maybe less.

"I have something for you," Dastan said then. Only then did Samira notice he clearly had something in his fist. Samira put her hand open in front of Dastan and closed her eyes. She felt warm, roughened fingers on her palm and something hard and light was left in her hand. As she opened her eyes, she had to stare her palm for a moment. When she realized that it was what it was, she still couldn't say anything.

"It's actually yours, not like the one ten years ago, and that time you asked for it," Dastan said, smiling a little, looking at Samira, searching for a sign of approval. Because approval was certainly needed. On Samira's hand laid an unbelievably pretty, small, silver-lined ruby, in the shape of a heart. "I think it is OK for me to give presents to my friends." When Samira heard those same words from Dastan as so many years ago, her eyes swelled with tears.

"I… can't accept this," Samira whispered, quite shocked.

"Yes you can," Dastan said calmly. "Please keep it, because I don't think we can be friends anymore." More scared than ever, Samira lifted her eyes up from the ruby and looked at Dastan through her tears. Oddly enough, he was just smiling.

"You know what I just did?" he whispered, getting now so close that his forehead pressed against Samira's. "I asked you to keep my heart." For a moment they just stood there, breathing heavy with emotion, forehead to forehead, Samira's open hand between them. Finally Samira closed the ruby heart in her fist, touched his lips gently with her own and answered:

"I will take good care of it."

After that Samira and Dastan's relationship turned into shy, testing thing that might be called love. Their meetings changed from teasing and laughing into humming, meaningful silences that were seasoned with silly smiles and soft kisses. Those meetings were carefully arranged far away from the eyes of other people. Dastan explained rather embarrassed why the ruby was so small; he was afraid that if someone might find the ruby from Samira, and then she would be accused of theft. Samira's family owned many valuable things of course, but since this jewel was rare and cut by court's own goldsmith, it would indeed have seemed suspicious. And Samira would have accepted grain of sand from him. The most important thing was that it was a gift from someone she loved.

Dastan also started to act as if he had been Samira's bodyguard; he made sure no one harassed her in any way, physically or verbally. When he realized it seemed odd that he acted so only towards Samira, he started to oppose any harassment towards the maids of the palace.

Of course it was hard to keep their deepened relationship as a secret; Bis knew naturally since Dastan had told him even before Samira got her ruby, but Garsiv was the next to find out. He held his anger for some time before he revealed the secret – during one dinner.

"Dastan, you have been quite absent-minded lately! It's almost like you're in love," Garsiv started a conversation during a silent moment. Dastan almost choked on his wine; he gagged and when he finally stopped coughing, Garsiv was explaining his 'suspicions' to his father, uncle and brother. They all reacted much alike, although with different arguments.

"Well, it's nice to hear my little brother has also joined the men's guild," said Tus smiling and winked at Dastan. "We all have to have our first experience with a maid."

"I think we can all remember that first one!" continued the King; all the men laughed except for Dastan.

"I beg to differ. It's not like that," Dastan said politely as a servant filled his wine glass.

"What is it then? Love?" Garsiv attacked and grinned victoriously as his father and uncle laughed at his words.

"What if it is? It's not like the only good and righteous people are amongst the rich," Dastan said bravely.

"Well, my boy," the king said, with a belittling tone, "the maids might be a punch of fun for a while but they wouldn't be good wives."

"On what grounds? Maids get married as well, and they wouldn't if they weren't suitable wives!" Dastan opposed, voice rising a bit. His father looked a bit surprised, since Dastan was usually polite and respectful.

"Of course they make good wives for their own cast, but royal blood must be kept pure. It always has."

"But there are no rules for that, is there? A man can fall in love with anyone, no matter of their origins…" Dastan tried.

"It's the arrogance and childishness of the young, brother," said Nizam to the king, covering Dastan's objection under his big voice. "They mix lust with love; they get confused because of the warmth of laps and sighs from beautiful lips." Laughter echoed once again around the table. Dastan felt himself defeated. There seemed to be no way to convince them that he really loved Samira, more than anyone else.