The night silence is broken by the sound of thundering hooves. His stallions are here. They are right outside!

I quickly straighten my amira hijab, then tie the niqāb, to cover my face. Not five seconds later, He comes through the door. He is so tall. Upon entering, he bends slightly, that razor sharp smile instantly lighting up his dark, deeply chiseled face. He is just so handsome, I can hardly bring myself to look up into his eyes.

" Zeina, Zeina, Zeina. I assume you have completed my order ? "

" O yes, Caliph! Tonight, I work overtime to make it the hottest and sweetest batch of ha-la-wa yet. His Highness' females shall be smoother than hot buttered silk, tasting like honey, with a touch of lemon. "

*gazing at the floor*

" And yes.. about my younger sister, Sahirnee. We are often confused, one for the other. As our hair is usually covered in public, it is difficult to tell the difference between the two of us, Caliph."

*deeply bows*

He lets out a hearty laugh, claps his hands, then sniffs the air.

" Good... Have this sent to the Seraglio right away. I expect two new girls to come, tonight. "

In response, sixteen men of Cordoba charge into the VII Sisters. One grabs the first pot he sees.

" O no... but it's fresh and quite HOT...!

*CRASSSSSHHHH*

Caliph grips both of my shoulders, jerking me out of the way, preventing a spray of hot sticky sweet stuff from charring my garments. Shards of faïence shower us all.

" Imbecile! You will ruin the merchandise before I have had the pleasure of tasting it."

Abderame squeezes my shoulders. His words.. they pierce through my veils. I am grateful he can not see me blushing from behind my niqāb.

" Th-thank you, Caliph, " I manage to stutter. The servant who spilled the honey wax drops to his knees, tears off his own turban, and feverishly scrubs the floor with it, scooping the broken pieces of pottery into it as he goes. Caliph Abderame releases my shoulders, then cups my chin in his palm. I am still staring at the floor.

" I expect you, little one, to deliver the seventh pot, personally."

" Yes, Caliph, " I reply. With that, the Caliph Abd er Rahman bin Mu'awiyah al-Qurtuiyya calmly strolls out the door. Like a sudden storm, he is gone to ride the starry night, returning from whence he came.