A Slave's Heart 1-

Madinat al-Zahra~ Palace, Harem, Fortress

Where the emir's best toys are kept

Nayyirah crawled on the glazed bath tiles in worried circles, her feline naked body slid on the wet surface.

Her almond-shaped eyes darted around the luxurious bath. The steam from the bath rose around her, mingling with the heady scent of sandalwood and spiced bathwater. Sandalwood and spiced bathwater. ...Sandalwood and spiced bathwater...

Too, 

much, 

sandalwood and spiced water

No she didn't found out if he had already ordered it- for her head that is. Or exactly when did he stopped being lulled by her feigned smiles. But the emir knew exactly when. About 2 years last, when she was supposed to lap up Jalilah's perfumed asshole with her usual relish. The second of dark look she gave him. A glimpse of what she planned, that made his eyes narrow.

With a shudder, she doubled over, her body grinding against the tiled floor and she retched up scalding bile. Acid splashed out from pure bottled panic spattered onto the bath floor, her lithe form a twisted mass of panic as her hips recoiled. 

The vomit wash away in the running water, leaving a slick trail behind her. But the fear remained. But the image of her stomach's betrayal was already etched in her mind.

She could still feel the lumps and stones in the pit of her stomach gnawing at her, with it, the faint traces of her lentil breakfast, her pale gray face's reflection staring back from the times between each ruptured bean. 

"Mistress?" Zamil's voice, light and boyish, cut through her haze of panic. 

He stood there, holding her wooden sandals in his coffee- toned hands as he usually does, but his eyes were frozen wide at the sight of his Mistress in distress. He rushed over to her side, his boyish voice trembling as he asked, "Mistress, what's wrong?"

Nayyirah managed a weak smile, her eyes meeting his with a tenderness that he's used to in all of their days. 

“Just a little...bit of nerves."

her voice steady as she tried to look confident, like in her usual jokes.

But Zamil was not so easily placated. 

He could see the worry etched into her delicate features, the lines of stress that marred her usually flawless skin. 

But the Zanj knew better than to question her further. Instead, he knelt down beside her his thin frame hunched over, his eyes never leaving hers, "Let me help you up, Mistress."

Nayyirah nodded and allowed him to help her to her feet. But as soon as she stood, she doubled over and vomited, the acidic contents splattering across the bath floor and again mixing with the running water.

Zamil gasped in horror, but quickly composed himself and began to clean up the mess. "Mistress, you need to rest. Please, lie down."

 "It's nothing, my dear Zamil. It's just- ," she lied, knowing he was too young for the heavy burden

Zamil knelt down in front of her, his eyes filled with concern. "What is it, Mistress?"

Nayyirah took a deep breath and looked around the room, making sure no one was listening. 

 "The Ifrit has been sniffing around, Zamil," she said, her voice barely audible. "He might be onto us. He knows about my plot to free us and all the others."

Zamil's eyes went wide, his black lips fell agape as he retreaded her words. "NOW, Mistress?" he yelped, his voice trembling. 

Nayyirah nodded, her eyes more determined. 

 "I don't know. But I can feel it.”

Then she took a deep breath, her mind racing. She had to make him understand, make him remember. Instead, her eyes warming with gratitude and sadness.

"But there is something I want you to remember."

"Remember the rare persimmon tree I  when we first met two years past, Zamil?"

Zamil's heart clenched in his chest as he realized what she was implying. "Mistress, please," he begged.

"Remember that tree.”

Zamil nodded, his eyes clouded with confusion. "But, Mistress, why?" he asked.

Nayyrah smiled at him, her eyes brimming with affection. "It's a present, Zamil. A present just for you," she said, her voice refilled with warmth.

~

Nayyrah reached into her leather pouch and pulled out several silver pieces. "And Zamil, go buy some refreshment for both of us to enjoy later," she said, her voice tinged with urgency. 

“There's much more than just for that, so go buy those things you told me so much about. I would love to try them later too.” 

He clenches the sandals in his hand, unsure of what to do.

Zamil hesitated, his eyes flickering between the sandals he left for her. Her, the vision of that...the emir's lovely nubile favorite. 

Nayyirah sat up on the tiled stool, scrubbing her pretty long leg clean. She knew Zamil's eyes were watching her, 

But she winked at him, a playful glint in her eye

"Enjoy, Zamil,"    

“Just have the best time”