He felt like he was back on the streets. Sneaking around, dodging the guards.
Omar remembered to breathe, inhaling just enough to fill his lungs, yet quiet enough to avoid detection. In all his days at the palace, he couldn't recall ever having to sneak around. Not like this.
Not with so much at stake.
His first objective had been to locate Ahmed. The vizier was in conference again with Jasmine and Aladdin.
Perfect.
After that came the tricky part: getting into Ahmed's guest quarters unseen.
You can do this.
You technically spent half your life training for this…
Omar steeled himself, letting the determination flow through his veins.
Right.
I can do this.
Right…
He forced his legs forward before the doubt had a chance to set in. It was still early enough that the halls were mostly clear. Every so often, he would pass a servant carrying something or other, but they weren't of any consequence. They didn't send Omar's heart racing like Ahmed's door did.
Simply opening it and walking in was risky, but he couldn't see any other option.
Kassim would do this better.
As it was, Omar stood in the hallway alone.
He'd know some sort of trick, like climbing up the balcony.
Now, that was an idea… Only, he'd already come this far and that option would take up too much time.
Doing a few quick checks over his shoulder, he sucked in a breath and listened at the door, pressing his ear to the thick wood. The silence that greeted him was pure bliss. No shuffling, no voices, no footsteps.
Nothing.
It took another couple of breaths for him to work up the courage to open the door and slip inside.
Instantly, the hairs on the back of his neck pricked at the presence of someone else.
Turning around slowly, heart pounding in his throat, Omar prepared to face whoever it was head on. Because that's what Kassim would do.
"Oh, geez," he sighed. The relief came on so fast and strong, Omar could barely breathe. "It's just you."
Aisha stood pressed against the wall by the door, looking like she was trying not to drown in her relief, too.
"What…" Omar's chest stuttered. "What are you doing in here?"
"Probably the same thing you're doing," the handmaiden replied, shaking off whatever fear at being caught still clung to her shoulders. "You're trying to find the pendant, aren't you?"
Swallowing, Omar nodded. "But… how did you—?"
"Jasmine's been keeping us updated."
"Why search in here, though?"
Aisha offered him a small but knowing smile. "Because Kassim isn't guilty. I know he didn't take it. And," her huff was edged with frustration, "who else would have it?"
"Yeah…" Omar nodded. "I just wish everyone believed that."
"If they did, we wouldn't be here right now, would we?" Brushing a stray lock of hair back, she surveyed the room. "Well, since we are here, we should get looking. Before someone comes back."
"If it hadn't been me," Omar began, following suit as Aisha started her search. "If it had been Ahmed or one of his men, you would've been toast."
Aisha didn't have much of a reply for him other than a simple hum. Not at first.
Omar had almost forgotten his question, so focused now on his search, when she said softly, "There are other ways out of this. But right now, this is just the best option."
She didn't explain what that was supposed to mean, she didn't even acknowledge Omar had said anything when he asked about it.
She just kept searching.
Okay…
Hours seemed to pass, but Omar knew it couldn't have been more than thirty minutes.
Thirty minutes of fruitless searching. Of dead ends and empty bags. Empty drawers and baskets.
Empty.
Empty.
Empty.
Aisha sat back on her heels, wiping a hand across her glistening forehead. "I don't think it's in here."
No. No, it has to be.
"We have to keep looking."
"But what if we're just wasting our time? What if… What if he has it on him?"
That was a new thought, one Omar didn't particularly like. If Ahmed had the jewel on him, then what hope did any of them have?
"… We have to keep looking."
"Omar…" Aisha sighed, but he wasn't listening. "Omar, I think maybe we should—"
On to the next chest. The next unturned pillow. The next pouch and pocket.
"Omar!" There was something in her tone that caught his attention, that made his heart skip a beat.
Someone was coming.
Voices echoed down the hall, sending his feet flying. He scrambled across the room and grabbed Aisha's hand. The wardrobe was their first and only option, so he flung it open and shoved her inside.
It was a tight fit by the time he stuffed himself beside her, but at least they were hidden.
For now.
A thin stream of light from the crack in the doors scarred his face and Omar held a finger to his lips.
With a roll of her eyes, Aisha shot him a look that made it clear she had been spending too much time around Kassim.
Kassim…
If they got caught, what then?
Just your luck. You try to help and make things worse.
Way to go, Omar.
Filling his lungs without making a sound was slow going, but he managed a shallow breath.
We're not in trouble yet.
What was it Aladdin always said? You're only in trouble if you get caught.
Right.
Seconds later, someone entered the room.
Omar didn't recognize the first voice, but the second sent chills down his spine.
"Why does he keep postponing the hearing? First it was to be early this afternoon, now it's closer to supper!"
"How many times have I told you to have patience, Isam? Now, prepare my bath. I have time to spare and I don't want to waste it listening to you panic."
"Yes, my lord."
Omar heard someone scurry off across the room. Most likely Isam.
That left Ahmed.
Beside him, Aisha shivered, so he wrapped a hand around her arm. His tongue ached to reassure her that they would be fine. But he couldn't speak without giving their hiding place away…
And how was he supposed to convince her of something he wasn't sure he even believed himself?
The rustling and footsteps outside the thin wardrobe doors seemed to drag on forever. Omar couldn't remember ever personally taking this long to get ready for a bath, but to each his own.
He just wished Ahmed would move it along.
Come on…
Come on…
When something brushed against the wardrobe, Aisha began to flinch, but Omar held her fast, jerking another finger up to his lips. It took a second or two, but she nodded and let her eyes slip closed.
If his heart would only stop beating like a drum for a minute, he could listen for Ahmed… He could find out when they should make their break for escape. As it was, the blood gushing through his ears muted most of the outside world. He needed to calm down.
Calm down, Omar. You're fine.
You'll be fine.
If you can't get out of here, you can't help Kassim.
So just… Just breathe. You'll be fine…
Right.
What felt like eons later, the roaring ocean in his ears faded into a gentle tide.
Breathe… Breathe…
It was some minutes later that the noises had died down. Beyond the occasional breeze from the windows, Omar heard nothing.
Gesturing again for Aisha to keep quiet, he swallowed, steeled himself with as much confidence as he could muster, and cracked open the door.
The room was empty, but he surveyed it several times just to be absolutely certain.
When he was relatively convinced it was safe, he slipped out of the wardrobe and beckoned Aisha to follow.
They had only crept about a quarter of the way across the room when a muted voice arose from the open door of the bathing chamber.
"I forgot your salts. I'll be right back…"
Without hesitation, Omar grabbed Aisha's wrist and made a mad dash for the entrance. Every second counted—and they didn't have very many.
Thump, thump—
The beat of his heart matched the pounding of his feet against the polished marble.
Almost there. Almost…
Flinging the door open, he didn't stop until he and Aisha had slid out into the hall. Then, mustering a sense of calm by some miracle, he quietly shut the door.
After waiting only half a second, he ran.
Aisha was right on his heels. He could hear the sound of her labored breathing as if she were mere inches away from his ear.
Staircase.
Hallway.
Another staircase.
More hallways.
Omar's brain only told him that he was free of all danger when he felt himself collapse on a recliner in the courtyard lounge. Which lounge in which courtyard, he had no idea. There were so many. And frankly, he couldn't care less.
As long as they were safe. That was all that mattered.
How many hours of his life had he spent running? Running away from his master, from his life as a slave. Running from the guards. Running from his nightmares, from bad memories…
Running.
Running.
Running.
When they all finally came to live in the palace, he'd thought his days of running were over. For two years, he had lived in relative peace and safety.
And now, this.
They were the sultan's best friends. They were blood brothers, bound together through thick and thin. If something like this could happen to Kassim… to the Royal Vizier…
Maybe Omar wasn't as safe in the palace as he'd originally thought.
"Do you think he saw us?"
At the sound of Aisha's breathless tone, Omar was pulled back to reality.
You're fine. You're fine.
"I don't think so." I sure hope not… "But… Maybe we'd better lay low for a while." Stay on the recliners, bask in the breeze… and try not to think about Kassim and the pendant. Just for a little while. Just for—
Aisha was out of her chair a moment later, straightening her skirt. "I have duties to attend to, but…" She paused on her way out of the courtyard long enough to flash him a warm smile. "Thank you for trying to help. You seem to be the only one who is."
Omar didn't know quite how to reply to that, but he found he didn't have to. Within seconds, she was gone.
A deep sigh had him sinking further into the cushions. He had a few minutes to relax. Surely time wasn't wasting so quickly that he couldn't take some time to catch his breath. To recenter himself.
To wonder why Ahmed told that man Islam to have patience…
… When it seemed that all the dignitary wanted was Kassim's head on a platter.
Cleaning up after lunch was for servants—decidedly not something Babkak liked to do on a daily basis. Or at all, for that matter.
As the servants began tidying the dining hall that afternoon, however, he found himself down in the kitchen alone, organizing the shelves and putting away little odds and ends.
His hands needed something useful to do, something productive. Something that would make him feel in control, even while the rest of his world was crumbling around him.
This hearing of Al's could either be a really good idea or a really bad one. Babkak had told his friend as much. Aladdin hadn't had much to say to that.
"I know you think that, because you're the sultan, you have to figure all this out on your own. You don't."
Aladdin had pursed his lips, giving Babkak the slightest of nods, but nothing more.
Figures.
It had been Al's biggest struggle since marrying Jasmine: trying to balance Sultan and Aladdin. No matter how many times Babkak had told him that the two were one in the same. With the way this whole living at the palace thing started, he supposed he shouldn't be surprised.
Aladdin's imposter syndrome tended to rear its ugly head at the worst possible times.
Visiting Kassim every few hours hadn't eased the helpless feeling that was quickly eating away at Babkak's gut. If anything, standing on the outside of those cell bars made it all ten times worse. But it seemed to be helping Kassim, if only a little bit. So that had to count for something.
Babkak didn't fault Kassim for feeling like he did toward Aladdin, and he didn't entirely fault Al for the way he was handling things, either. He just… wished he could find some way to fix it for all of them.
If he could only just fix it…
"Have anything for a blistering headache?"
He'd know that voice anywhere.
Smiling, he glanced up at Nadine. The level-headed handmaiden was always a welcome sight. She understood Babkak in ways even he couldn't sometimes, and her to-the-point common sense was often refreshing.
"One chamomile tea coming right up," he said. "Would you like it for here or to go?"
"Oh, it's not for me. But at the rate the morning's been going, I might just need one sooner than later." Nadine settled into one of the table chairs with a sigh. "Aisha was supposed to bring Jasmine some tea for her headache, but I can't find the girl anywhere, so here I am."
"How's her ankle healing?"
Nadine shrugged. "Well enough. She's still got a slight limp, but I guess that'll teach her to be more careful on the stairs. She's been awfully moody lately. And mopey, can't forget that."
At this, Babkak couldn't hold back a snort. "So has Al. So has literally everyone else in this palace." Except Ahmed.
Babkak shook the thought away. He hadn't come to the kitchen to dwell on all that—to mope, as Nadine put it.
"She's probably missing her lover," came Nadine's sly suggestion a moment later. "It's hard to get hot and heavy in a prison cell."
Babkak pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut, slamming a door against that mental image. "Okay, ew, I don't want to think about that right now. Gah, why would you say something like that?"
Nadine plucked a grape from the bowl and popped it in her mouth. "I mean, we all know they're doing it."
"But we don't have to talk about it. Now it's in my head…"
"'Bout time they got together is all I'm saying. I was tired of them making eyes at each other from across every room."
"Changing topics," Babkak said as he handed her a cup of brewing tea. "Here you are, madame."
"Thank you, kind sir." With a mock bow of her head, Nadine accepted the offering. "Now, why don't you mix one up for me, too."
Babkak arched a brow. "Already?"
"I think I gave myself a headache talking about all that…"
As Nadine massaged her temples, Babkak smirked. "Hurts the brain, doesn't it?"
"Just shut up and make the tea, Babkak."
With a chuckle, he grabbed another cup. Just as he was about to strike up another conversation, a few of the servants came trickling in from the dining room.
Peaceful aura terminated.
That was fine. Babkak hadn't felt a sense of pure peacefulness since this whole ordeal began. But one can always pretend…
By the look on Nadine's face, she was equally as put out by the intrusion. She offered him a Well, what can you do shrug and he grinned.
He handed her the tea moments later. "Don't drink it all in one place."
"Are you kidding me? This will be gone before I even get back to Jasmine's quarters. Thank you," she added. The compassion and warmth in her eyes helped to settle his insides a bit.
Even though the darkness seemed endless, none of them were alone in this fight.
Right. It was about time to remind Kassim of that fact.
The path down to the dungeons was a familiar one, though not a pleasant one by any means. Still, it was one he would take a thousand times over if he had to, if it meant he could ease Kassim's nerves.
The hushed tones that greeted him were somewhat unusual, and for a moment, he wondered if Kassim had managed to rope the guard into another card game.
Then he saw her.
The elusive handmaiden stood with her cheeks nearly touching the cell bar. Kassim stood just as close on the opposite side, and Babkak swore that if he saw them kiss, he might just lose it.
When he approached, they aborted whatever conversation had been knitting both their brows so tightly together, but Babkak was able to catch the tail end.
"It's not worth it." The pleading in Aisha's voice had Babkak wishing he'd been a fly on the wall for the first half. "I don't care what happens to me anymore."
Kassim shook his head. "I care what happens to you—"
"And I care what happens to you!" Aisha hissed.
At the sound of Babkak's footsteps, they pulled apart, jerking backwards as if the cell bars had suddenly become blazing hot irons.
"Don't let me interrupt the romance." Typically, a comment like that would earn an eye roll from his brother. This time, Babkak found himself on the wrong end of one of Kassim's notorious glares.
Aisha fiddled with a stray strand of hair and tucked it behind her ear. "I… I should be going."
Before she could take a single step, Kassim reached out through the bars and tugged her close once more.
"Don't do anything," he whispered. Though it took a moment and no small amount of reluctance, she nodded. Then, she hurried past Babkak, clearly taking pains not to meet his gaze.
"What was that all about?"
Instead of another glare, Babkak's question was met with a sigh. "Nothing."
"Didn't look like nothing."
"Well," Kassim shot back in a tone more weary than irritated, "it was."
"All right. Fine." Babkak held up his hands in mock surrender. "I won't push. Whatever you two do is your own business. I just came down to see how you were doing."
He had expected some sort of sarcastic reply, maybe a jab at Aladdin. What he hadn't counted on was Kassim swaying slightly on his feet and pressing a loose fist to his forehead.
"I need to sit down…" And before Babkak could reach out—to do what, he didn't know—Kassim staggered over to the nearest wall and slid down it.
Babkak joined him, kneeling beside the bars as Kassim sucked in a long, slow breath.
"Do you feel okay?"
"I'm locked up. Of course, I don't feel okay."
"I meant your physical health, genius. You looked about ready to pass out, and from out here, I wouldn't have been able to catch you."
Kassim seemed to take a moment to think about this before waving a hand. "Oh, no. It's not that. I feel fine."
"Then what is it?"
Blowing out a sigh, Kassim shook his head and let his eyes slip shut. "I'm just tired. Need to sleep better, I guess."
"Uh huh. Because that's all it is. Sure." Babkak raised a brow. "So, why was Aisha here?"
"What?" Kassim glanced at him. "She can't come to visit me, too?"
"Nope, we're not playing that game. I don't have the patience for it. You told her not to do anything. Not to do anything about what?"
Another dismissive wave had Babkak barely restraining from pinching the bridge of his nose until it snapped in half.
"Kassim, I swear, if you don't talk to me, I can't help you."
The half-chuckle that tore from Kassim's throat didn't prickle the back of Babkak's skin as much as his next words. "You've got that right at least. You can't help me. You can't, Omar can't, Al won't, and—"
"Come on, that's not fair. You know he's trying."
"Sure, sure." Once more, Kassim sounded more exhausted than frustrated. It was equally as unnerving as it was concerning. "Sure, he's trying. I'll give him that, I guess."
"Depending on how this hearing goes, it could all be over tonight."
"Yeah, but it won't be."
"All right, I know you've made a hobby over the years out of being a pessimist, but what makes you so sure?"
"Because Ahmed's a foreign dignitary with a critical export deal. You said it before but I was too angry to listen. It's political, and he's got everyone wrapped around his little finger."
"If you would just explain where you were that night…"
But Kassim was already shaking his head. "Not an option."
"We all know you didn't take it," Babkak coaxed, "but you know Ahmed won't let it go without proof."
"I made a mistake, sure—I always seem to—but I didn't make that one."
"Do you realize what you're risking by keeping whatever it is that you're hiding a secret?"
"Yeah. I also know the stakes if I let the secret out. It won't be pretty either way."
"Then pick the lesser of two evils and just explain your alibi."
Kassim's chuckle was drenched in fatigue as he washed a hand over his face. "Playing this game by Ahmed's rules is definitely the lesser of two evils. At least, for now."
"Kassim—" But he waved Babkak's concern away.
"Let's just see what Omar comes back with first, then we can decide how to go from there."
"You got Omar mixed up in this?"
"Why does everyone keep saying that? We're all mixed up in this one way or another, whether we like it or not."
The timid footfalls coming down the hall could only be from one person, so Babkak was hardly surprised when Omar joined the group.
"Well?" Kassim asked, suddenly looking more awake than he had a few seconds ago. "Any luck?"
Omar huffed out a sigh. "Nothing. I couldn't find it anywhere. Either he hid it really well, or it's not even in his room."
Torn between disappointment and acceptance, Kassim's expression shoved thick lines between his brows. "It's all right. Thanks for trying."
"I won't stop until I find it," came Omar's soft declaration. "I promise."
"It was a longshot, honestly," Kassim said. "Don't beat yourself up about it. And don't put yourself in danger trying to prove a point."
"I'm not trying to prove a point. I'm trying to help you."
This earned a soft smile from Kassim as he whispered, "Thanks."
"I just wish I could do more," Omar sighed a moment later, slumping against the cell bars.
"This is enough for right now." Tugging his knees to his chest, Kassim slipped out a hand. Through the bars, Omar and Babkak took it, clasping it tight. "This is enough…"
For now, Babkak's mind supplied.
He tightened his grip, ignoring the growing pulse in his veins. The pulse that screamed this is wrong. It was all wrong.
And Babkak didn't know a single thing he could do to fix it.