Chapter 19: Malik’s Return

The evening sky had darkened into a deep indigo, the stars hidden behind thick clouds that hung low over the palace. Laila stood by the window of her chambers, gazing out at the courtyard below. Despite the stillness of the palace, tension crackled in the air, palpable in every glance exchanged between the soldiers. The anticipation of conflict loomed large, yet Laila’s mind was elsewhere.

A soft knock at the door pulled her back to the present, and her heart quickened.

“Enter,” she called softly, her voice steady.

The door opened, and Malik stepped into the room, his tall frame and broad shoulders filling the doorway. His presence was powerful, as always, but this time there was something different. His wavy black hair had grown longer, falling over his honey-colored eyes, and his face bore that old ugly scar—a thin line that started at his hairline, traced above his eyebrow, over his left eye, and ended near his chin. The scar contrasted with his fuller beard, softening its severity, but Laila’s heart clenched at the sight of it.

For a long moment, they simply looked at each other, the air between them heavy with unspoken words. Laila took a step forward, her fingers gently brushing against the scar on his face.

“I hate that scar,” she whispered, her voice filled with concern.

Malik caught her hand in his, holding it tenderly. “It’s nothing,” he said quietly, though the tension in his voice suggested otherwise. “Just a reminder of the battles we fight.”

Laila frowned, her fingers tracing the edge of the scar as her brow furrowed. “It’s more than nothing, Malik. What is going on at the northern border?”

Malik sighed, releasing her hand as he turned toward the window. His broad back tensed, and for a moment, he was silent. “We were ambushed,” he said, his voice low. “The Iron Claw had forces waiting for us at the northern pass. We… we lost some good men.” His voice faltered, the weight of the loss evident. “We performed the janazah before I left.”

Laila’s heart tightened at the mention of the fallen soldiers. The janazah prayer, the Islamic funeral rite, had always been a somber ritual, one that brought home the reality of war and loss. But it didn’t make the grief any easier to bear.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice soft. “May Allah grant them Jannah.”

Malik nodded, his gaze distant as he replied, “Ameen.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of the loss hanging in the air between them. Laila stepped closer to Malik, her hand gently resting on his arm as she gazed up at him, her eyes filled with concern. “The border—did you secure it?”

Malik turned to face her, his beautiful honey-colored eyes filled with a mixture of exhaustion and determination. “For now. But something isn’t right, Laila. They knew we were coming… almost as if they had our plans.”

Laila’s breath caught in her throat, her mind racing. “You think our theory about the traitor feeding them information is true?”

Malik’s silence was answer enough.

Laila felt a chill run down her spine. The betrayal she had been fearing within the palace was now threatening them from the outside. She took a step closer, her hand resting on his chest now, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingers.

“You think it’s one of us?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Malik’s gaze softened as he looked down at her, the weight of his suspicions clears in his eyes. “I don’t want to believe it, Laila. But I can’t ignore the signs. Someone is undermining us from within. If we don’t find out who it is soon, the northern border won’t hold.”

Laila’s heart clenched as she considered the magnitude of his words. If there was a traitor among them, someone with access to the royal family’s plans, the entire kingdom could be at risk. She met his gaze, her voice filled with resolve. “We’ll find out who it is. I won’t let them tear us apart.”

Malik’s expression softened as he reached up to cup her face, his thumb gently brushing her cheek. “I know you won’t,” he whispered, his voice filled with quiet admiration. “You’re stronger than you think.”

Laila felt a warmth spread through her at his words, her heart swelling with affection. She placed her hand over his, leaning into his touch as she closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the connection between them.

“I missed you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“I missed you too,” Malik replied, his voice rough with emotion as he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

For a moment, the weight of their responsibilities melted away, and all that remained was the warmth of Malik’s touch and the unspoken bond between them. Laila allowed herself to lean into him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic as she breathed him in.

When she pulled back, her gaze drifted to his beard, her fingers tracing the line of it with a faint smile. “I like that you kept the beard,” she said softly, her tone light despite the heaviness in her chest. “It suits you.”

Malik chuckled, the sound deep and comforting. “If that’s what you want,” he said, a small smile playing on his lips.

Laila smiled in return, though her mind was already racing ahead. The battles they faced were far from over—both within the palace and at the northern border. Malik’s scar was a reminder of the dangers that loomed over them, but together, they would face whatever came next.

“You need to be careful,” she whispered, her voice filled with worry. “I don’t want you coming back with more scars.”

Malik’s smile faded slightly; his eyes serious as he looked down at her. “I’ll return to the border soon,” he said, his voice low. “But if you need me here, I’ll stay.”

Laila’s heart ached at the thought of him leaving again, especially with the growing threats within the palace. She wanted to tell him to stay, that she needed him close, that she longs for his presence but her side, but she knew better. Malik was a general, a warrior, a protector of the kingdom, and his place was with his men, fighting to defend their people.

“I want you to stay,” she admitted softly, her voice breaking slightly. “But I know you have to go.”

Malik’s gaze softened as he stepped closer, pulling her into his arms. “I’ll always come back to you,” he whispered, his lips brushing her cheek in a tender kiss.

Laila closed her eyes, savoring the closeness, the feel of his arms around her. She wanted to hold onto this moment, to freeze time and keep him here with her, but she knew it was impossible. The kingdom needed him, and she would face her own battles within the palace.

“I will hold you to that promise, stay safe.” she whispered, her voice filled with emotion.

“You too,” Malik replied, his voice just as soft as he pulled away, his thumb brushing gently against her cheek one last time before he stepped back.

A knock at the door broke the moment, and Laila straightened, her mind returning to the matters at hand. A servant appeared in the doorway, bowing respectfully. “Your Highness, the council is waiting.”

Laila nodded, casting one last glance at Malik. “I’ll be there shortly.”

Malik gave her a final nod, his expression unreadable as he left the room. Laila watched him go, her heart heavy with both love and worry. The battles ahead would test them in ways they had never imagined, but she knew that whatever happened, they would face it together—even if from opposite sides of the kingdom.