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She knew every corner, every wall, every window. She knew exactly which turn to take to get to the garden as quickly as possible. It felt like she was just a little ten-year-old girl again. Just running around the house instead of studying with Muhammad since Uncle was too busy with other students, so they sneaked out to look at the blooming flowers instead. Yes, they would be punished later and wouldn’t be allowed to study together for some time, but it was fine. It’s not like they could stop them from sneaking out at night to watch the stars.
But she was running through the corridors alone. She finally got to the garden, but it just felt weird. The birds weren’t chirping, the fish weren’t swimming, the flowers weren’t blooming... She couldn’t feel anything. She couldn’t hear anything. All she could feel was some weird emptiness. She knew this place so well. She spent so many years here. Everything was just the way it was before the Mongols came. It should feel so much warmer, so much livelier. But it felt so cold. So dull. She tried to smell the flowers, the breeze, just anything, but there was nothing. It was so frustrating.
She tried to touch the branches of the trees, but her hands just went through them. Her hands looked pretty much real and solid to her, she could easily touch herself, but whenever she tried to touch anything else, it was like she was transparent. She couldn’t even kick a rock in frustration. It’s like everything was against her!
She ran back into the building, just running around the corridors without a real destination. She could feel herself becoming bigger, as if she had returned to her height and size that she had now. But it wasn’t the most infuriating part. She wasn’t so transparent anymore. She kept bumping into things around and just falling. She was never that clumsy. But she kept falling again and again. And it felt like the corridors became endless. It didn’t matter where she ran, for how long she ran, which turn she took, she was always ending up in the same room. In the room where Mistress died.
She couldn’t bear to even look around. She just ran right through it. Back into endless corridors. At least there she could not think about everything that happened. At least she could just run endlessly. Free her mind from all the painful memories. Maybe if she ran long enough, she would be out of the loop. Maybe she would be in the steppe. Maybe back in her room. It didn’t matter. She just didn’t want to run through that room again.
Alas, against all her wishes, she was there again. She was trying to just run through it again, but instead she stumbled on something and fell. She didn’t mean to look back. She just wanted to go farther. But her head unwillingly turned back to see the Mistress’s body on the ground.
She was in a pool of blood. Bright red blood. And it only kept getting bigger. She just lay there, reaching out to her with her still clean hand. And she couldn’t just watch. She immediately sat up and took the Mistress’s body into her hands, pressing herself hard against it. She never managed to properly bury her, or say goodbye, or just do anything for her. At least she could hold her for a little while more now. Even if her hands were in her Mistress’s blood.
She didn’t deserve to get this. She didn’t deserve to hold her body once again. She didn’t deserve to see her again. She didn’t deserve to get a chance at seeing her again. Even if it was in a pool of blood. Even if she was dying in her hands and she could do nothing about it. But she didn’t want to let her.
She only wanted to press her head against the Mistress’s body, cry to her just like when she just came into the household. She just wanted to hold her again. But she couldn’t cry. She had the feeling of her eyes being watery, but nothing just could come out. She raised her head, trying to understand what was going on, when a hand landed on her cheek. Red and warm from blood hand.
«It’s all your fault, Sitara... You killed me...»
The hand fell from her cheek right on the lifeless body. She wasn’t bleeding anymore, but she was just cold. Not warm from blood, not warm from living. She was as cold as snow. Just a second ago she was looking up at her with full of love and regret eyes, which were now filled with hatred. She had never seen that look on Mistress. It felt so foreign... Her eyes were lifeless, looking right through her, not moving, not a spark in them. But they still had so much hatred in them. She just couldn’t look at her.
She didn’t do it. She wasn’t the one at fault! It was Mongol who raised his sword! Mistress just protected her. She made that choice, didn’t she? She wasn’t the one who slashed her back with a sword. She might’ve shouted out, which caused everything, but she wasn’t the one to use the sword! She was the reason for her death, the blame, but she wasn’t the one who did it!
But it didn’t matter. Her eyes were glued shut. She didn’t want to open them and look at her Mistress. Dead in her arms, just lying there motionless, but still showing her hatred. She couldn’t bear the sight of it again. She felt her head spinning, she felt nauseous. But she wasn’t sure what caused it. Was it the sight of the body? Or the knowledge that even her Mistress blamed her?
She opened her eyes slowly. She couldn’t see properly at first from all the tears in her eyes, but there was nothing. There was no body in her hands. Just blood. On her hands, on her clothes, on her face. Just everywhere. She blinked. Once. Twice. Faster. Maybe if she blinked more, it would all disappear. But it didn’t. The more she blinked, the more blood appeared around her. She just looked up in hope of seeing an exit, but instead she saw her Mistress. Just standing there, as if nothing had happened. Looking at her with her usual warm smile. She was just staring at her. Her hand was reached out to her. She could just reach and grab it. And maybe then she would be in a better place. But just as she raised her hand, a sword suddenly rose behind the Mistress out of nowhere. She jumped up, trying to shield the Mistress, but...
Her eyes opened wide as she sat up in bed. Her breathing was so fast that it felt like she couldn’t breathe at all. The more she breathed, the more obvious were the sobs coming out of her. All she could see was a blanket covering her legs. Where was she even? What did she just see? Was it all just a dream? A vision? What was that? Why couldn’t she calm down? Why all she could do was to just cry?
She curled her knees up and hugged them, hiding her face in them before crying. It wasn’t loud. The feeling of her knees pressing to her eyes wasn’t actually so bad. If anything, it helped her to keep quiet while the tears were rolling down her face. It didn’t stop the sobs, or the scream of pain when she finally realised what she saw in her dream.
Even if Mistress chose for her, she wouldn’t have to do it if she just kept quiet. If she just said nothing, Mistress would be alive. Muhammad always told her that it’s not her fault ever since the nightmares returned, but it was so hard to believe him sometimes... She knew he didn’t blame her, she knew he always told her that it is the Mongols’ fault and not hers. But sometimes the doubt entered her heart when Mistress blamed her in the nightmare...
Where is Muhammad? It was only now, when there were no more tears for her to cry, and she just sat with her knees close to her, that she realised her husband was not next to her. Usually, even if he was asleep when she woke up like that, he would pull her into a hug and comfort her. Maybe he just didn’t wake up this time? The day before had made both of them exhausted after all. They had gone straight to sleep after dinner... So perhaps he was just still sleeping, right?
Her hand went down to her side, trying to land on her husband. But there was nothing. One side of the bed was empty. Maybe he was just on the other side? Maybe they switched places at night while cuddling. So the other hand started patting the other side, but there was nothing there either. She shouldn’t panic. Not yet. Maybe he is just somewhere in the tent and didn’t see her. He wouldn’t leave her like that, would he? If he needed to, he would’ve woken her up and told her that he would be right back, just like he did before that.
So she slowly raised her head and tried to look around. It wasn’t too dark in the tent thanks to the fire, but still dark enough to not see around properly. First, she looked at the bed. Maybe he just rolled away from her. But he wasn’t there. The bed was just empty aside from her. So she carefully got out of bed.
She should’ve put shoes on, but she just couldn’t be bothered at the moment. Her feet were cold, but she just walked around the tent, trying to take a good look at everything around. But there was nothing. No one. Muhammad wasn’t inside. His clothes weren’t neatly laid next to hers either.
She tried to take a deep breath to calm herself down, but each breath only set her in more panic. What if she did actually just imagine all of this? What if he was never there? No, that couldn’t be right. They were married. Everyone was always on them for being married and still not being pregnant, at the very least. She couldn’t have imagined all of that, could she? Otherwise, she would be the only one able to see him. That just couldn’t be right. She couldn’t have imagined him around her for quite a few months now...
At least she was hoping she couldn’t. Maybe he was just outside. Yeah... If she walked outside, surely she would find him there. She shouldn’t give up just yet... He was surely somewhere outside. Maybe he was just getting something to drink. Yes... It was probably that.
She should’ve put something on. At the very least, shoes, but she wasn’t thinking about that. She just walked out of the tent. In the darkness of the night. Somewhere, the fires were lit next to the tents, but they had none since their tent was close to the tents of the royals anyway. So she just walked straight ahead.
Very slowly... It was a calm night. There was no wind, no rush, nothing falling from the sky. But the air was still so cold. She should just go inside and wait. But she couldn’t. Not when she could hear people talking somewhere near. Maybe that’s where Muhammad was? Maybe if she just went there, she would see him?
She had to walk faster. But the snow under her feet was so cold. It was so hard to take steps faster. And she was just so cold. She had her hands wrapped around her, but her only clothes on were the nightgarments. And they weren’t keeping her warm enough. And she forgot to cover her hair, but she just needed to find Muhammad and go back with him. She couldn’t care less about how she looked. She just needed to get to him. If only she knew where he could be.
«Fatima! You forgot to cover your hair!»
A familiar child’s voice. She felt someone bump into her leg and just looked down. It was Prince Hulegu! He wasn’t too small, but he looked even smaller in that big coat. As much as she was in distress, she had to put a smile on her face. Surely, he would know where Muhammad was. Maybe he even was the one to take him away. But it was so dark, it had to be very late. Why was he still awake?
«Prince Hulegu, what are you doing up so late?»
She tried to give out her usual concerned work smile, but she just couldn’t. It’s like her face was too tired to move. Her whole body felt heavy. She could barely keep her eyes open. All she wanted was to just fall to the ground and sit still. She felt so cold, so heavy, so stiff, so tired. The only reason she was still standing was because the Prince clung to her leg and wouldn’t let go.
«Kublai is feeling bad. What happened to you, Fatima?»
Right. She must look really bad. But it was so dark, surely he wouldn’t see her face properly, especially since her hair was partly covering it as well. But the young boy wasn’t stupid. How could he be stupid when Muhammad was his teacher? He could quickly figure out that something was wrong if she was outside without her hijab or any proper clothes in general. But he might also know where her husband was...
«Prince Hulegu... Do you know where Muhammad is?»
«Who?»
What? What did he mean by who? He knew that man very well. That was his teacher! He “introduced” them in the first place! How could he not know who she was talking about? He had to know. He must know him. Did she actually just make him up in her mind? Were those months all just her imagination?
Her legs couldn’t hold her anymore. She just collapsed on the snow, staring down at it. How could that have happened? How could her mind make up something so twisted? Was it all just a dream? What if this was a dream? Yeah, she was probably just dreaming. Of course. If she tried hard enough, she would wake up.
She looked around, but the Prince had already run away. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe her mind just made him up too. Maybe she was just all alone somewhere dying, and her brain was playing with her. How could she know what was real and what was not? Was she even real? Was anything around her real?
She put one of her hands in the snow, leaning on it, while the other hand covered her mouth. She wanted to cry. The sobs felt so loud in this empty, quiet night. But nothing was rolling from her eyes. Not a tear. She was just sobbing into her hand, feeling the cold snow under her legs, under her palm. It felt so painful, so cold. But at least she knew she was alive if she could feel that.
It was just so painful. She could feel her chest tighten from panic. Just that weird feeling of anxiety rushed over her, almost as if coating her in it. Her breaths got short and fast again, combined with the sobs. It made her feel like she couldn’t breathe. Like the ground was disappearing from under her legs. It was just so weird. So awful. Her head got all dizzy. She just wanted to close her eyes. She felt like she was about to collapse.
«Fatima!»
A deep man’s voice. It sounded so sweet, so worried, so familiar... She knew that voice very well. It’s the same voice that whispers to her about his eternal love for her. It’s the same voice that calls her name with the utmost care. It’s the same voice that Muhammad has... Was it real? Was it all just her imagination? She just wasn’t sure.
But she still raised her head to look at where the noise was coming from. She watched a tall man’s figure approaching her and taking off his coat. She couldn’t see his face. Not just yet. It was too dark for her to see anything except just a figure, but she could see enough to know it was him. The way he stumbled slightly while rushing to her, the way his hands shook as the coat wrapped around her shoulder, the way he called her name, the way his face looked so concerned.
«Muhammad?...»
It was him. She wasn’t just making it up. She reached out with her cold hands and just placed them on the man’s shoulder, hiding her face in his chest while his hands slipped under her knees and held her on the back. He quickly stood up from the ground and started walking again. She knew he was just walking very fast, but it felt like he was practically running. And he still held her so close to him. And he was so warm. Before she knew it, her eyes became watery, and she just started crying.
She wasn’t making all of this up after all. He was real. She could touch him, grab onto him, cry into him, while he was almost running to their tent. All that mattered to her was that she was in his hands. In his warm hands. That feeling of anxiety still stayed with her, but the panic was almost gone. She was just happy that he was in front of her.
When they were inside the tent, he carefully put her down on the bed. It was so warm inside. Maybe even a little hot for her. She tried to take the coat off, but instead Muhammad wrapped it tightly around her, wrapping her legs in the blanket as well. The tears were still streaming down her face, keeping it a little warmer. Only now could she properly realise that she was shivering terribly. She could feel and hear her teeth chatter. No wonder Muhammad looked at her with so much concern.
«I will be right back. Please, stay inside and don’t take anything off. I will get some warm water.»
His hands were so hot. He gently held her face and wiped away the tears from her eyes before kissing her forehead. She wanted for him to say. She should’ve just grabbed him and asked him to stay, not watch him leave. But she was so cold and tired... She could feel her hands and legs, but they were hurting so much. But she could wait. She knew he would be back. He wouldn’t just leave her like that.
And Sitara was all alone again. Just sitting on the bed in her tent, staring into the fire. At least now she had Muhammad’s coat on. She laid down on the bed, clenching the coat in her cold, cramping hands. And she just started bawling.
She was so stupid. What was she thinking? Running out into the snow in just her nightgarments? No matter how insane she felt, this was just stupid. She had never done something stupid like this before. Not even when she was a kid. At least when she was running away as a kid, she would always bring shoes. And this time she didn’t even think for a second about them. She wasn’t thinking at all.
It felt like her brain was just not working. The only thought was to find Muhammad. She didn’t think about anything at all. She didn’t even think about how she looked from the side. She must’ve scared the Prince. Probably. He already seemed a bit scared when he found her, so her collapsing next to him surely made it even worse. She made a fool out of herself. How was she supposed to get the book back when this was how she behaved? When she couldn’t even think properly in a scary situation...
Thankfully, she didn’t get the chance to fall into full despair as her husband returned. She sat down next to her and just gently stroked her hair. He didn’t say anything. He was just stroking her hair quietly while she was clenching the coat and bawling. She quickly let go of it, though, and instead placed her face on top of the man’s lap, with her hands down under her, getting warmer bit by bit.
«My Star... Oh, My lovely Star... What happened? Can you sit up? I will warm your body a bit with some warm water.»
And letting go of him? Not a chance. She did start to calm down little by little, but her sobs were still pretty loud and painful. Hopefully she wouldn’t get sick because of this. She just continued using her husband as her pillow to cry into, but he didn’t like the idea at all. She felt his hands go to her armpits, and he just pulled her up and sat on his lap. She shifted slightly to sit down on the bed, while having her legs over her husband’s instead. She leaned her head against her husband’s shoulder and just watched.
Under her husband’s gentle arms and kisses to her head, she was calming down more easily, faster. She watched silently as he barely managed to pick up the bowl with water and a cloth in it and place it on the bed near their legs. Then, he carefully got her feet out of the blanket and just gently held them in his hands. His hands were so hot on her cold feet that she couldn’t help but hiss quietly from the temperature difference. But after holding them in his hands for a bit, he took the cloth and squeezed out excessive water. The cloth was still pretty warm when he pressed it against her foot. Just gently pressing it over and over again, slightly brushing against it, probably trying to clean her feet of snow.
«I’m so sorry... I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I had this nightmare with the Mistress again, and then I woke up, and you were nowhere around, and I just felt like I lost my mind. I am so stupid. I should’ve stayed here and waited, but I just couldn’t...»
She sounded so sore. But at least she wasn’t sobbing anymore. Or crying. She was just sitting and staring at her husband. At his hands. Or better say, hand. He had one of his hands wrapped around her waist under the coat, keeping her warm like that and gently massaging her side. While the other hand was rinsing the towel in the warm water, squeezing the water out and pressing it against her other foot. They still felt pretty cold, and she just wanted to press them against something hot. Like her husband’s hand. Not that towel. But he seemed to be pretty strict about dealing with her like that.
«Don’t say that... I didn’t mean to leave without saying anything. It’s just that Prince Kublai has a fever and they wanted me to do something about it. Since I lied before about being an apprentice to a doctor... But at least they let me leave after I told them what to do... How are you feeling? Are you hot? Cold? Should I wrap you in more layers? Maybe you are hungry? I can get something for you to snack on.»
He was being ridiculous. She couldn’t help but chuckle at all his questions. She could see how worried he was, and it was so precious. He was so very precious to her. Even if she was a little hungry, she could wait till tomorrow. She just shook her head and helped him put the bowl back on the floor before hugging him and laying down on top of him.
She didn’t need him to go somewhere else. She didn’t need him leaving her again. She just needed him by her side. Hugging her, kissing her, warming her with his hot body. She let him drag her up and to the side to lay on the pillows, and then took off his overlayer and his coat, throwing them somewhere on the floor. Then he wrapped his hands around her tightly, pressing her to him as hard as he could without accidentally choking her. And she was only happy to. Especially since she could slip her hands from the side under his nightgarments and warm them from his body.
«Your hands are so cold, Sitara... I just hope you won’t get sick...»
He didn’t even shiver when she did that! How dared he! Every time they came back in the evening, he would wait for her to take all her clothes off and only then hug her with his cold hands, making her tremble and scream from the cold. And now, he didn’t even let out a sound when she did that. Just complaining about the temperature of her hands! He was so annoying sometimes. Maybe she should get sick so he would stop warming his cold hands against her all the time.
Sitara just turned her face away from her husband with a pout and took her hands off of him. But he just couldn’t let her do it, could he? He grabbed her hands in his and started kissing all over them, waiting for her to look at him. And she just couldn’t resist! She looked back at him, at his little smile, at the little blush on his face that just became bigger with each kiss. They had been married for months, and he still acted so shy sometimes.
«You are so ridiculous sometimes... But that’s why I love you, My Moon.»
«I am ridiculous? Speaks the one who always refuses to hold hands outside and then complains when I don’t reach out to hold her hand. At least I’m consistent.»
How dared he! She wanted to hit him on the back with her hand, but he was ahead of her! He knew what he was doing when he took her hands to kiss them... And now he wasn’t letting go, no matter how hard she tried to get them out. All he did was just press his lips against them again and cover them better with the blanket.
And then he moved the hands aside and started kissing her angry, cold face. He knew what he was doing, didn’t he? He knew exactly what to do to calm her down. He was just lucky she actually wanted to marry him and loved him. She wrapped her hands around him and slowly closed her eyes as he continued to kiss her while whispering about how much he loved her. He couldn’t let her be better in even one thing, could he? But she wasn’t complaining. His whisper was like a perfect lullaby to her.