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Al Lixbuna, Islamic Iberia
Caliphate of Córdoba
989 AD

 

Rafiq Halabi laughed at another story from his future brother-in-law, a story he had little doubt was a complete fabrication. Yet it was his duty to be the good host, his duty as the eldest son to support his father in any decision he made.

Even if it meant losing his sister to this decrepit, disgusting man.

He was a boor, yet the difference he could make in all their lives was tremendous, and undeniable. His wealth far exceeded theirs, and if everything went according to plan, Rafiq stood to gain the most, for as the eldest, he would inherit everything when his father finally passed. It wasn’t that he wanted to hasten that occurrence. Not at all. He loved his father, and was content to be second to him in all things. And with this masterful arrangement, their family was about to become much more important than they currently were. Though respected business people, they had little status.

But all that was about to change, thanks to his father’s cunning ability to recognize an opportunity, and his sister’s breathtaking beauty—beauty enough to tempt an old sheik into taking on another wife after one of his had died.

His eyes scanned the room for Fatima, narrowing at not spotting her. Samira skipped into the room, a smile on her face. He beckoned her over. “Where’s your sister?”

“She went to get fresh air.”

She skipped away, circling the room as only one so young could be forgiven for. He rose, excusing himself, then headed for the courtyard. Fatima was nowhere to be found, and his concern grew, though he wasn’t sure why. He strode over to the front gate, two guards snapping to attention.

“Did you see my sister?”

One of the men pointed down the street to their left. “She went that way just a few minutes ago.”

Rafiq’s eyes narrowed as he peered down the street, not spotting her. It was not only out of character for her to go off, it was forbidden. If she wanted to leave the house, she needed to be escorted by a male relation. That was usually him, as their father was too busy, or one of several “cousins” hired to make life more accommodating.

“She left unescorted?”

The guard hesitated. “Yes.”

Rafiq drew an angry breath. “And you let her?”

The man shook his head, taking a step back. “No, she said her cousin was meeting her. She pointed at him.”

“And you saw him?”

The man trembled, his eyes darting about, focusing anywhere but on his interrogator. “I, umm, saw a man, but…”

“But what?”

“She, umm, walked past him and met another man.”

Rage surged through his body at the very notion of his sister meeting a man who wasn’t a relation. “Who?”

The guard shrugged. “I don’t know, but he had blond hair. He must be one of those Vikings.”

Rafiq was taken aback. Why would a Viking meet with his sister? And more importantly, why would his sister meet with a Viking. None of it made any sense. His father had been conducting business with the Vikings for years, and for almost a month with Prince Magnus. Magnus had even been to their home on multiple occasions as a guest, and though he had addressed his sister directly several times, Rafiq had dismissed the impropriety as a cultural difference, and not worthy of threatening a lucrative business relationship.

But none of that explained why Fatima would meet with one of Magnus’ people, or Magnus himself.

Little girls can be foolish.

He trusted Fatima, yet she had seemed fascinated with the novel Viking. Could he be taking advantage of the trust his family had placed in him? Could he be taking advantage of his naïve sister?

“That can’t be permitted!” he hissed, sprinting in the direction his sister had headed, the possibility of losing everything they were working toward in the house behind him terrifying.

All because of some silly, naïve little girl.