The whipping wind of my desperate race has forcibly dried the tears on my face, leaving salt trails across hi my face. When I slow at the last, it is not from lack of desire to keep running, but because my grief and shame feel like opposite sides of a quickly shrinking room. I feel as though any move I make will leave me in shattered pieces on the floor. I lift my head to the sky and Allah's grace, even though I want nothing more than to lay down and curl in on myself as I had as a young girl.

I do not hear him approach, but I feel it all the same. He is the other half of my heart and I turn from the open Dunes to regard him with wide eyes, my feet itching to flee once more. I do not understand how he can stomach standing before me in my shame. He should be recoiling at my selfishness for rending his family apart as I had my own. Of all the crimes I could have committed against my ali, this is the greatest, for it could involve the entire kingdom. Would they seek to punish Mira? It was whispered amongst my handmaidens that the men of Mira were barbarians that if denied the hand of a woman they desired, they would kidnap and ravish her in the desert so that no other man could have her.

I had thought these things folly, if only because I believed my station to be above such common beliefs, but the will of my people was strong. If they collectively believed me kidnapped by the Prince of Mira, as the detractors of the marriage will eagerly encourage, I will have led my beautiful husband to his death should word ever reach my father. Worse still, if my father believes this lie himself, he will wage war against Mira in retribution for my loss. Lives will be lost in defense of my honor; that which I had so willingly and freely given over to him in the night.

I am nothing more than a fatat hamqa' as the priest had once told me. I am not worthy of my station or of him, and as he comes closer I skitter away, my sides heaving with regret. How could he look upon my face with anything other than disgust? I, who have cost him everything in return for nothing.

Your name is bound to mine, you cannot hide from me. His words cause a hitch in my throat, and I blink rapidly to prevent myself from succumbing to the tears. Of course, I am his. I know this in my blood and bones. But it does not change the fact that I have ruined us both for folly. It may have been an accident, but innocent intentions did not change the outcome. Instead of a prince with his princess, beloved by their people and lavished with care and attention they were here, surrounded by strangers in this barbaric land of no custom or sense.

The thought of the strangeness of the land brings to mind my friend Naz, and I wish heartily to see her. So much has changed in such a short time that I crave her friendship and the perspective she can usually bring me.

I say nothing for a moment, my soul torn between wanting him to go away and wanting him to come wrap his neck around me. The conflicting emotions jostle inside my body and I remain frozen as he begins to talk, my own fluted ears pricked in his direction. I nettle at the thought of him finding me insufficient, but the feeling mutes itself immediately. Had I not thought the same of him? Instead of trusting in my father's hand and the will of Allah I had simply decided that Antares was not the half to my heart.

More importantly, he had abandoned his people because he believed me unmatched. Not to chase me down. It left my mind reeling as I considered the implications. Would my father still count their disappearances against them? Or would he consider it an equal trade for the loss of me? My mother was already been heavy with my next sibling when I had fled from Mahgrib and I knew it was only a matter of time before he had another daughter to marry away. Perhaps the nameless she could do what I could not and unite the two kingdoms.

Still, he continues on, speaking of the same fears I had held for him. The thought of Antares had always seemed so dry to me, the thought of cleaving to a stallion not of my choosing little more than a duty that I would have to bear. But the magic of our night before, and the depth of the feeling that I had for him now could not have been farther from dry duty that I had feared. Even if we had to stand together before a million matters of state I could content myself with the sound of his breathing beside me. Maybe I could even temper my wildness if it would make him happy if only to feel the trace of his muzzle across my skin in approval.

Antares continued speaking and quickly wiped away any fears that I would have to tame myself. I take a solitary step forward, yearning for him once more. He talks of my people's customs and my lips turn into a frown, wanting to dispute his claims and yet knowing that I cannot. I had chafed at the restrictions my father had placed upon me and yearned to know what it might be like to live as freely as a man. To not have your morals questioned for meeting the eyes of a man too boldly. To not have to explain why you had walked so close to the stranger. To not have to bring a chaperone to every function. To be free to find someone that I loved for me. Such a thing was not heard of in my family. Women were as much as property, and you simply hoped that the next hands to hold your reins would be kind. Which is not to say that they were all bad. I loved the traditions of my people and their kindness. A Mahgrib friend would never desert you, or leave you without food. But we did not live as freely as many others. The elders said that our traditions kept us safe, and we simply believed them.

A sigh of what I can only imagine is relief heaves from my chest, but he is not done. His confession continues to spill forth, painting the vision he had been fed of me as an explanation of his crimes. It amused me, briefly, to think of the stories of me being a restriction on him. It was not I that would restrain him, but my family and our people. If he bid me to race across the desert at his side, I would, and gladly so. I knew only the basics of his religion, so that I would know of what he spoke when he was my Husband, but it was taught as sacriligious, and backward to believe in such things. It was Allah's mercy that had saved us and gathered us to him so that we could live with such civilization and peace among one another.

Whether this was true or not was beyond me. It felt to me that belief was what gave the gods power and if Allah was truly as all-powerful as he seemed, surely he would have struck down these opposing powers in his might. Both of us had clearly seen the other as blinders, trappings of a life we weren't so eager to live that we were willing to snuff out our hearts.

At last, his speech falls silent and quiet reigns in the gully that separates us. I cannot help but to yearn toward him, wanting to offer to him the assurance that I would not begrudge him his decision. It both soothes and prickles my hear to know that he had left for fear of me, but I cannot deny the adoration in his eyes. No matter what had gone before, I still had these moments with him, and what fool would I be to deny myself of this joy? Allah, Set, Shu, whomever it was that orchestrated this whole affair had done so masterfully, so that we might fully come to know and enjoy the person before us without our preconceptions.

"I thought I had torn you away from your family, and disgraced both houses." I begin gently, my hooves carrying me forward. As though a dam is broken by that small movement I rush the rest of the way back to his side. "It was bad enough that I would cause dishonor to my father, but the thought of ruining you for the sake of my own fears was indefensible."

I reach out for the touch of him again, wrapping myself securely at his side, where I am meant to be. Craving the comfort of his touch I bury my head into his neck. "I thought my days at your side would bring ruin to the spirit of my heart, that my duty to you would cause my nature to crumble. I did not think I could weather the thought of you preferring someone over me, that I would be bound to such a loveless marriage while you were free to seek your own heart's desire."

Peals of laughter bubble against his neck as I shake my head, my voice rising in relieved amusement. "How foolish we are, my love!"

I remain quiet for a moment, the giggles borne of the extreme swings of my emotions refusing to die down. I didn't know why being around him made me so giddy, but I felt as though I were floating above the clouds in my elation. "Whatever shall we do with ourselves, Husband?"

The question is rhethorical for I simply do not care. I would not trade this moment of reunion for a million stars in the sky.