Chapter 16: Unfinished Business

The rhythmic sound of hooves echoed through the palace courtyard as the gates slowly swung open. A sharp wind blew through the air, carrying the scent of dust and rain from the northern border. Laila stood at the top of the palace steps, her hands clasped in front of her, her heart pounding with anticipation. She had received word early that morning that her father, King Khalid, and her husband, Malik, were returning to the palace—though Malik’s return was temporary, with unfinished business still waiting for him at the northern front.

It had been weeks since Malik and her father had left for the northern border to face the Iron Claw. The conflict had grown more dangerous, and though they had managed to hold the line, the battle was far from over. Laila’s chest tightened as the riders finally came into view.

Her sharp eyes immediately sought out Malik’s familiar figure. Her heart skipped a beat when she spotted him at the front of the group, his tall frame and proud posture unmistakable even from a distance. His wavy black hair, longer now than when he had left, caught the fading sunlight as he rode forward. But something else caught her attention—something that made her breath hitch.

A scar, fresh and still healing, ran from Malik’s hairline down the side of his face, cutting through his eyebrow, past his eye, and finishing at his chin. The scar was deep, stark against his bronzed skin, and it cut through the thick beard he had grown during his time away. The sight of it sent a surge of fear through her. How close had he come to losing his life?

Despite the scar, Malik’s honey-colored eyes remained as sharp as ever, scanning the courtyard until they found her. For the briefest moment, his stoic mask softened, and a faint smile touched his lips as their eyes met. Laila felt her pulse quicken, her chest tightening with both relief and worry. He was home—at least for now.

As Malik dismounted his horse, Laila descended the steps to meet him. His gaze remained locked on hers as he walked toward her, his expression unreadable, though there was a tenderness in his eyes that was reserved only for her. Laila’s heart ached as she reached out, her fingers gently tracing the edge of the scar on his face.

“Malik…” she whispered; her voice filled with concern. “What happened?”

Malik caught her hand in his, his grip firm but gentle. “It’s nothing,” he said softly, though his eyes betrayed the hardship he had faced. “Just a reminder of the north.”

Laila’s gaze lingered on the scar for a moment longer before drifting to his beard, which had grown fuller and thicker since he had left. Despite the worry that gnawed at her, she couldn’t help but smile.

“I missed you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Malik’s expression softened as he gently pulled her into his arms, wrapping her in a protective embrace. His warmth, the solidness of him, was a comfort she hadn’t realized how much she needed. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, his lips lingering for a moment as he held her close.

“I missed you too,” Malik replied quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “More than I can say.”

Laila rested her head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek. For a moment, the world outside—the war, the factions, the palace intrigue—all seemed to fade away. It was just the two of them, wrapped in the quiet intimacy of their reunion.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes drifted to his beard once more. She smiled softly, her fingers brushing against the coarse hairs. “I like this,” she said with a playful glint in her eye. “You should keep it.”

Malik chuckled, a rare sound that sent a warmth through her chest. “If that’s what you want.”

She nodded, her gaze softening as she looked at him. “But the scar… I was worried.”

Malik shook his head, his fingers gently lifting her chin, so their eyes met. “It’s just a scar, Laila. I’m here. I’m alive.”

Laila swallowed, her throat tight with emotion. “That’s all that matters.”

Behind them, King Khalid dismounted his celestial horse Solara, his expression wearies from the long journey. The weight of the crown seemed heavier on him than before, his eyes shadowed with the burdens of both war and leadership. His once dark hair, now streaked with silver, fell loosely around his shoulders, and his regal amours were worn from the days spent in battle. He approached them, nodding to Laila with a faint smile.

“Laila,” Khalid greeted, his voice gravelly from the road. “It’s good to see you.”

Laila bowed her head slightly. “And you, Baba.”

Khalid’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, the weight of unspoken words passing between them. “We’ll speak later,” he said, his tone suggesting there were matters that needed addressing—matters that could not wait much longer. He cast a brief glance at Malik before heading into the palace.

Malik’s eyes followed the king’s retreating figure for a moment before returning to Laila. “I can’t stay long,” he reminded her, though there was reluctance in his voice. “There’s still unfinished business at the northern border.”

Laila nodded, her fingers still resting against the roughness of his beard. “I know,” she said softly. “But come inside. We can talk for a bit.”

Malik followed her into the palace, his hand resting at the small of her back as they walked through the grand halls. The air inside was thick with the scent of incense and the quiet bustle of palace life. As they made their way to Laila’s private chambers, the reality of Malik’s temporary return weighed heavily on her heart.

Once they reached her chambers, Laila closed the door behind them, shutting out the world beyond. Malik removed his cloak and draped it over a nearby chair, his honey-colored eyes watching her closely. There was something in his gaze—something vulnerable, though he would never admit it aloud.

“I’m glad your home, even if it’s just for a little while,” Laila said, her voice soft as she moved closer to him.

Malik nodded, his brow furrowing slightly. “I wanted to see you… before I go back.”

The tension between them was thick, filled with everything left unsaid. Laila reached for his hand, her fingers lacing with his. “I’ve been worried,” she admitted quietly. “About the war… and about you.”

Malik squeezed her hand gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “It’s been worse than we expected,” he said after a moment, his voice low. “The Iron Claw is regrouping. Their forces are more organized now, and their attacks are more coordinated.”

Laila’s heart sank at his words. The northern front had always been a vulnerable point, but she had hoped that Malik and her father’s efforts would have turned the tide. Now, it seemed the threat was greater than ever.

“What do you think they’re planning next?” she asked, her voice steady despite the worry gnawing at her.

“They’re testing us,” Malik replied, his brow furrowing. “They’re focused on cutting off our supply lines, weakening our forces before their next major push. If we don’t secure those routes, they’ll gain the upper hand.”

Laila nodded, her mind racing through the possibilities. The factions within the palace were already creating enough instability, and now the external threat was growing as well. She couldn’t afford to be stretched too thin.

“I’ll send more resources to the north,” she said decisively. “We can’t let them gain any more ground.”

Malik shook his head, his expression grave. “That’s exactly what they want. If you send more resources, you’ll weaken the defenses here in the capital. The court is already divided, and if the factions see an opportunity to strike, they will.”

Laila frowned, her fingers tightening around his hand. Malik was right. The court was a powder keg, and if she moved too many resources north, it would leave the palace vulnerable to those vying for power.

“There has to be a solution,” she murmured, her eyes distant as she searched for an answer.

Before Malik could respond, there was a knock on the door. Laila and Malik exchanged a glance before she called out, “Enter.”

The door creaked open, and Zayd, Laila’s uncle, stepped into the room. His expression was unreadable, though his dark eyes flickered between Laila and Malik with a hint of curiosity.

“Forgive the interruption,” Zayd said smoothly. “But I thought you should know—Tariq and Jamal are gathering their supporters in the courtyard. It seems they’ve grown bold even though your father has returned.”

Laila’s jaw clenched, her patience thinning. “What are they planning?”

Zayd shrugged, his expression remaining neutral. “It’s hard to say. But whatever it is, they’re not waiting for your father’s next step to make their move.”

Laila’s eyes darkened. The last thing she needed was her cousins stirring up trouble when she was already stretched thin. “Keep an eye on them,” she instructed firmly. “I won’t allow them to undermine the kingdom.”

Zayd inclined his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Of course, Laila. I’ll ensure they don’t overstep.”

As Zayd turned to leave, Malik’s gaze followed him, his expression hardening. When the door closed, Malik turned back to Laila, his voice low. “Be careful with Zayd. He may be your uncle, but he’s not as neutral as he pretends to be.”

Laila nodded, though her mind was already racing ahead. “I know. But right now, he’s the least of my problems.”

Malik hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “I’ll return to the north soon, but if you need me here… I’ll come back.”

Laila’s heart ached at the thought of him leaving again, but she forced a smile. “Thank you, Malik.”

Malik stepped closer, his hand resting gently against her cheek. “Stay safe,” he whispered, his thumb brushing against her skin.

Laila leaned into his touch, her eyes closing briefly. “You too.”

With one last glance, Malik turned and made his way toward the door, the weight of the war hanging heavily between them. Laila watched him go, her heart heavy with both love and worry, knowing that the battles ahead were only just beginning.