The eagerness in him to hear my voice brings to mind those in my past that had waited for my every word. This, somehow, was different. Perhaps because it felt genuine, rather than the waiting of a subordinate for the whims of their leader. No longer was it a handmaiden asking after my comfort, or a nobleman come to pay me the compliments he thought I wanted to hear.

It was my beauty, every time. Nothing of my heart or soul. And certainly nothing of my wild nature that was a thorn in my ali's side at every turn. Over and over they told me I was beset with beauty, a diamond amongst desert rubies. And I believed them. Still, in fact believed them, although I found myself almost plain compared to him.

I speak the words of my father and realize as he stares at me blankly, that something has gone horribly wrong. My eyes grow wide with apprehension, certain that I have said something wrong or incomplete. Had I misspoken? Hastily I reran my vows through my head, searching for the gap or the hole that would have led to the stunned expression on his face. I did not expect him to know my vows, not with his mentions of the old gods and old texts. It would have been folly for me to assume that he knew of my faith, for what little I held to it.

I only wanted to give him as much of myself as I could.

Into the shocked silence between us he begins to speak and tears of joy rise uncontrollably to my cheeks, spilling over the fine lashes to trace down my cheeks and water the sand below. Frozen with delight I hear the words from him that solidify his vows in my own faith, and perhaps most importantly, though I would never admit as such, cements my marriage to this ruby maned stallion in even my father's eyes. If the winds of fate carried me home I would still be righteous in his eyes, even if I had not followed conventional methods.

A laugh bursts from me through my tears, but he does not speak there. Again, he speaks and I stare in shock as my name, my true name spills from his lips. How did he know my name? My heart rises in conflicted hope as I consider the possibility that he is from my home, from Maghrib. It is wonderful and terrible both if this is true. If it is, then that means he is truly of my own and we might share stories of familiar places and things. But it would also mean he might know of my shame, and regret our coupling.

My face has but a moment to flicker through both confusion and unease when it settles into unrelenting shock at his next words. Frozen, wide-eyed, I stare at him, as he backs away, sweeping into a deep bow at my feet. As he cranes his neck, I stare at him, my new name bouncing through my head. Amira Sayyida zawja Antares. Sayyida zawja Antares.I had not escaped my destiny but had raced straight into it's waiting arms.

"La , la, la ymkn 'an yakun." I whisper into the space between us, even as I curtsey to him, dipping my own head to follow the path of the sun above as I do so. There is no way that I could have thrown away everything for nothing. I could have still been at home, surrounded by a family that adored me and still possessed the heart of my heart. My shock gives way for heartbreak - not entirely my own - as I think of how worried my mother must be, and the fury that I have surely caused my father. How selfish am I? It is not he that has come to steal my virtue, but I his.

For clearly Antares has come to find me, sight unseen. He must have departed from his home in search of me, I can only imagine. And now I have lead him straight into the heart of barbarians, to where he is the king to be of nothing and no one, save me. For even in my turmoil I have not forgotten my vows to him, nor has my devotion wavers. As truly as I know myself, I know him to be my other half, for Allah would not have gone to such great lengths to unite us.

I know this, and yet I shrink away from him. Trembling with the weight of the turmoil within me I back away, my tears of happiness changing to those of grief. "I am not worthy of you, my Husband, Al'Amir Alssami Antares bin Sirius. I have been selfish, please forgive me, I beg of you."

I spin from him hurriedly, in a rush to escape the claustrophobic well of feelings that wash over my mind and contradict the things that I know to be true. Antares' name has always spawned a deep-seated resentment in me as he represents everything that I dislike of my station. He had always meant responsibility and maturity and duty. They had not told me of his romantic words, or the way the moon would kiss his skin in such a way that I could not resist tasting it. No one had told me of his heart, and of the way he pledged to be mine. I could not reconcile my husband with what my vision of him had once been.

Faster than I had ever run before, I fled from him. Each burning drink of the dry desert air spurred me forward until I could barely feel the shifting desert sands at my feet. And still, my regrets chased me.

I knew when I had fled from my home that I would break my family's hearts and even those of some of my people. I had accepted that, as selfish as it sounded. But I had not counted upon breaking the hearts of his as well. Of all the warriors that I thought might search for me, I had not thought my prince among them. He, of all, was the prized son of the sons of Mira. For him to chase me here and rend not only one family in half, but two was unforgivable.

It is only when I have fled nearly to the edge of the Dunes, so far that the only trace of him lingers on my own skin, that I slow. My muscles ache from our passion and from my tension, and I choke back messy sobs as I walk brokenly forward. What had I done?