Ghali's Story

Azim disappeared after their conversation for some time, and Ghali, who had been tied up again to prevent "incidents" in the absence of direct supervision, began to doze off.

When he woke, Azim was sitting in his makeshift chair again, a myriad of papers spread out on the folding table in front of him. Ghali stirred and the sheikh looked up, his eyes humorously distorted behind a pair of thick reading glasses. Smiling, he removed the spectacles and regarded his captive.
"Ah. Awake. Do you have needs?"
Ghali nodded - that was what had woken him - and Azim called in two guards to take him outdoors, as they had before. When they took him out this time, they didn't bother blindfolding him. Therefore, while walking outside, Ghali got a good look at the camp in the moonlight and realized two things. The first was that he was nowhere recognizable, and the position of the stars even seemed slightly off. Second was that the moon was almost full, and if his cycle came as truly as Mahir had predicted it would, he was going to have to make a difficult request in a few days' time. He frowned. Perhaps sooner rather than later; one never knew how a carrier's body would behave so early on.

Azim did not look up from his writing when Ghali was brought back, only gave short orders for the guards to set him down somewhere, remove his shoes and untie him. As soon as they had, they disappeared, and Ghali and the sheikh were left alone again, in silence.
"I understand you have a bloodstone." the sheikh said, suddenly, still not looking up from his writing. "Am I to believe that you've had your first blood, but are untouched, still?"
There was a note of skepticism in the sheikh's voice that Ghali didn't at all like. He had only been a carrier for a few weeks - of course he was a virgin! What kind of life did this man think he was living?
"Naturally." he snapped, then regretted it when the sheikh looked up sharply. "Yes." he corrected himself.
The man simply grunted and returned his attention to the sheath of papers. Ghali figured now was as good a time as any.
"My second turn comes soon, I think." he said quickly, face heating. "If you're going to keep me here, I need rags."
Azim looked up with an unreadable expression, and stared at the carrier for several seconds, frowning slightly as if working something out in his head.
"Soon?" he asked, slowly. "How soon?"

There was something in the way that he said it; in the manner of his asking and suddenly, Ghali knew that a misstep had been taken.
"Tomorrow." he lied, smoothly.
The sheikh's expression became amused, then serious.
"Ah." he said, "Really?" he sighed heavily and set his pen down. "Well, I suppose we'd better do this now, then." he stood and made as if to undress, approaching the bed, and Ghali sucked in a alarmed breath before he could stop himself.
"Wait!"
The sheikh paused, obligingly.
"Yes?"
Ghali cast around for an argument to make.
"It's too early! You can't do this! What about my father?? You can't touch me until you negotiate with him! If you hurt me now, you'll lose your leg to stand on! He won't listen if he thinks I've already been harmed! You'll never get what you want!"
Azim tilted his head, listening to the carrier babble, a small smile spreading across his face.
"And what," he asked gently, "If you are what I want?"
Ghali froze. Azim smiled slowly at him. Understanding began to sink in.
"Oh shit. Oh, shit." Ghali blinked hard and then rubbed at his eye with the back of his hand. "Shit."
The sheikh made a dissatisfied sound at Ghali's swearing, but the carrier paid it no mind.
"Why do you want me?" he continued, panic rising in his voice. The sheikh raised an eyebrow.
"Ghali. I think you are so new you forget what you are." he came a few steps closer, but kept his hands raised in an open and neutral position. Ghali was not reassured; his breaths began to come quick and shallow, and his eyes darted around as if looking for a way out. Azim went on speaking, slowly, as if to a child or a wild animal. "You are not going home, Ghali. Not now, and not after I contact your father."
Ghali shook his head, a gesture of denial, and drew himself up smaller on the bed.
"No...no. Stop..." That was what all the niceties had been about. All the gentle treatment and the assurances. The doctor's visit, and the good food, and the questions about his bloodstone, and the papers. It had all been to make sure they could keep him.
The sheikh's approach slowed, and he came to a stop at the bedside.
"You are going to be my wife, Ghali," he said, his voice firm - the only steady thing in Ghali's mind just then. "That is an inevitability."
Ghali shook his head.
"No. I have - I'm in love with someone else!"
Azim blinked at Ghali blankly for a few seconds, clearly expecting more.
"Alright. And has this someone else already laid claim to you?"
Ghali hesitated, unsure whether it would be better or worse to claim promiscuity.
"Not since my change." he answered eventually, deciding a partial confession was mostly a truth. Azim frowned.
"Why not? Is he in the country? Is he capable of making a claim?"
Ghali hesitated again. Anders was young, certainly, but his claim would be supported by Henrik and the Firm, so yes, he was capable...he just hadn't.
"Yes, he's here. And he can make the claim." Ghali answered slowly, then feeling bold, added, "And might any day now." and lifted his chin slightly.
Azim rolled his eyes.
"Your hesitation belies your contention. I don't believe this person even exists, and if he did, he earns no respect from me. If he truly wanted you, he would have claimed you the minute you were ready. And even if he, for some unknown reason, decided to dither over it and decided later that he wanted you, it's too late. I have you now. He is irrelevant."
Ghali rankled at the dismissal, but knew the truth in Azim's words. Anders had never claimed him, had never laid with him since that day, had not brought up the prospect of marriage since Ghali's change, and had not given even the slightest implication that a promise was going to be made. Ghali had thought on this before, but always summoned up some sort of excuse from the deep well of affection that he had for Anders. Now Azim was making the uninspired naïveté of his dedication to Anders plain, and it hurt.

Something of that must have showed on his face, because Azim furrowed his brow, gathered the cloth of his robes, and perched himself on the edge of the bed.
"And yet..." he said, gently trying to meet Ghali's eyes, "You think of him."
Ghali didn't answer, and Azim pressed on. "Why?"
Ghali shrugged.
"I love him."
Azim looked the young carrier over one more time. The doctors had assured him the bloodstone was accurate, but one never knew...
"And have you really loved him?"
Ghali's face scrunched up in confusion, but Azim's questioning did not abate. "Did you? Hmm? Is that why you think of him so? Does it soothe your conscience to believe he will be your betrothed?" Azim leaned closer. "Did something happen, little carrier? Something that you wish to confess?"
The sheikh reached out and grasped Ghali's chin in one firm hand, turning the carrier's head to force his gaze. "Anything at all?"
Ghali blinked owlishly, then turned his eyes away. The skin of his cheeks felt hot, and Ghali had to grind his jaw to keep from yanking his face out of Azim's grasp.
"No." he snapped. "He never touched me. You have your prize."

~:~