Page 46 of A String of Silver Beads (The Moroccan Empire #1)

Y ou have seen each of my jewels as I have adorned myself. Now you know my journey and how I came to be here.

The city is quiet. It is dark and only a few torches flicker, making me freeze for a moment when I think I see a person in the shadows, but then all is still, and I move again.

A drunken guard is snoring. I can smell the orange blossom through the darkness even as I falter beneath the weight of my saddle.

One of my jewels slips and falls from my neck but I cannot stop to pick it up.

It tinkles as it falls to the ground, but no-one hears me.

Zaynab would hear me if she were here, but if she saw me, she would say nothing.

She would not call for the guards to stop me.

Perhaps when I am gone, she will be set free from the jealousy that cripples her life.

Outside the camp the camels sigh and make their low groans when they see me.

They toss their heads – the day is done, their work is finished, they seem to say – why trouble them now?

Can I not sleep like their masters? Only my own camel, my Thiyya, whitest of camels with her strange blue eyes, makes no sound but stares at me coolly as I approach.

It is a long time since she was used and she rolls wearily upright, then stands to allow me to fasten the saddle straps.

She twitches her head when I put on her head harness but the small silver sounds of the dangling triks seems to soothe her.

I finish my preparations and lean against her for a moment, feeling faint.

She looks at me scornfully when I do not climb swiftly up her side as I used to and sinks to the ground again with a soft impatient huff.

I turn Thiyya to the north and let her walk at her own pace, unhurried and unbothered by the misfortunes or misdeeds of mere mortals.

I curl my bare feet into the soft fur of her neck and feel a great weight lift from me.

I leave behind my child and doing so leaves a wound in my heart, but I believe that he is in safe hands and that my distance will protect him from Zaynab.

A soft glow appears, the rising dawn. The desert spirits whisper around me even as the birds wake.

Did our queen, Tin Hinan, come this way once, long ago, on her white camel?

Thiyya continues her long slow strides and I face the rising sun a free Tuareg woman, as I was born.

My jewels sway with the rhythm of the riding.

I hold my head high and then close my eyes to feel the first warmth of the sun touch my face.

I think of my son, of the power he will inherit and the gentleness with which I hope he will rule a peaceful kingdom.

I pray for him. I pray that his father will recognise him and claim him for his own when it is safe to do so and that his life will be a happy one.

When I open my eyes, I see ahead of me the outlines of Amalu, Ekon and Adeola.

Behind them stand many loaded camels and Amalu’s slaves, ready for the trading routes that we will travel together.

As I draw closer Amalu comes towards me, as though he cannot bear to wait for me to reach them. Thiyya stops by him without my command, and I look down on him. His eyes shine with love.

“Not dressed as a man?” he asks.

I shake my head. “I am a free woman,” I say. “I have no need to hide.”

He nods. “Ekon and Adeola are with us,” he says, gesturing to where they stand.

“I set them free,” I say.

“They would not leave you,” he says. “They travel with us as friends.”

“I come to you with nothing,” I tell him.

He shakes his head and holds up his arms. “You are everything,” he says.

I slip from Thiyya’s back and feel his strong arms about me, claiming me for his own at last.