3 Zayed

3

Zayed

I could taste the hot, citrusy air, the smell of sand, leather and the warmth of sunlight as sweat slid down my back, pressing against my light shirt when I moved over the horse. Clenching the reins, I directed the horse towards the sand dunes, the ends of my hair that curled out of my keffiyeh ruffled with the wind, and I wondered if I deserved it all.

The freedom, being a Sheikh, or the air that I breathed.

Guiding the horse, I breathed loudly and patted his mane, switching from the fast gallop to silent walk in the empty desert. The bleeding sunset painted the barren land with tints of yellow, orange and red, its heat blistering, but I relished in it.

Thoughts of Azmia, the upcoming wedding, safety of my friends, filled my head. My hands tightened on the reins as I tried to relax, thinking about my childhood.

***

My stomach growled at seeing the buttered bread at the shop. I stuffed my hands in my pockets, hoping for a miracle that it would be full of gold coins. But mir