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As the sun finally set, the call of the Maghrib Adhan, what Richard’s men would call “haunting”, sounded almost comforting now, with his hand in the sultan’s.
It was divine in a way that hurt. He felt the warmth settle in his chest.
“This sounds...”
“For how long do you...” Saladin stopped himself. “Ah.”
Richard glanced at him. “No. Go on.”
Saladin hesitated.
“I was thinking about... just how long you think this could continue.”
Richard let out a short laugh. “Continue what? The war... or the hand-holding?”
“This is dangerous.”
“Everything involving you has been dangerous since Acre.”
Silence settled between them.
Not awkward, nor peaceful.
“Not long,” Richard finally admitted.
He sighed “Still, long enough.. to regret it.”
Saladin turned to him fully then.
“What were you about to tell me?”
The call to prayer echoed over the city walls.
Richard did not answer immediately. He was listening more carefully now, trying to understand words he would never truly know.
“...Your men hate that sound.”
“My men hate vegetables too. I don't consult them on beauty.” he said half jokingly
Saladin blinked.
“What?”
Richard huffed quietly “Your call to prayer,” he said flatly “It sounds nice.”
The Adhan slowly faded into the night air.
Saladin hesitated.
Then, gently, he let go first.
“Oh,” Richard murmured. “There's the sultan again.”
“And there's the king.”
Neither of them moved.
Saladin sighed softly.
“I'm going.. to pray.” He stepped back. “You should go somewhere too.”
Richard nodded once.
“One day we'll pretend none of this happened.”
Saladin said nothing at first.
But Richard had never learned when to stop.
“If things were different,” he began.
“They never were,” Saladin interrupted, gently.
Richard looked at him for a long moment.
“Saladin..You'll win.”
“No.” Saladin looked away. “There was never victory in this.”
Richard stayed there until the final echoes disappeared.
Then he left.
Saladin prayed longer that night.