The Eighth Escape

[AMAL POV]

My heart lurched against my ribs. "What did you say?"

"Not forever." His voice was careful, measured. "Just... to see what lies beyond these trees. To live instead of merely surviving."

The words hit me like ice water. "I can't." The response was automatic, carved into my bones by years of hiding.

"Why?"

"Because this forest is all I have left. Out there, I'm nothing but prey."

"Not if you're with me."

I studied his face, searching for the lie I was certain must be there. "And how long before you tire of a woman who flinches at every shadow? How long before you realize what you've bound yourself to?"

He was quiet for a moment, then shifted closer. "Tell me."

The topic was simple, direct. We'd been dancing around it for days, and somehow tonight it felt easier to just... say it.

"I was a slave. Palace slave. The Ibn Rashid household." I picked at a loose thread on my sleeve. "Prince Faisal's personal staff."

Something flickered across Noah's face—so quick I almost missed it. But I caught it. A tightness around his eyes, gone before I could name it.

"We were... decorative, I suppose. Pretty things for him to show off. Use when he wanted." I shrugged, trying to make it sound casual. "He liked to mark his property. Made sure we couldn't run without everyone knowing where we came from."

"The scar on your wrist."

"House symbol." I touched it absently. "Real artistic, right?"

He didn't say anything, just listened. But there was something in his stillness that felt different now. Like he was holding his breath.

"There were others. Thirty of us, all told. We looked out for each other as best we could."

The familiar guilt coiled low in my stomach. "When I got my chance to run, I just... I took it. Didn't warn anyone. Didn't try to help. I grabbed what I could and ran." I swallowed hard, the shame bitter on my tongue. "But I kept failing. Every time." My voice softened. "Until one day… a friend and I decided to try something different. Planned it carefully. Strategically." I hesitated. The air felt heavier. "But… he caught her." A lump rose in my throat. It hurt to breathe. "I watched. I watched as he—he slaughtered her." My voice cracked. "I... I couldn't move. I Don't remember if I even screamed. I just—stood there."

"You survived."

"I abandoned her." I looked up at him. "She trusted me, and I left her there to save my own skin."

"You did what you had to."

"Did I? Or did I just choose the easy path?" I laughed, but it came out bitter. "Either way, here I am. Been hiding in these woods for months, jumping at shadows and talking to myself. Living the dream."

We sat in comfortable silence for a while. The fire crackled between us, and I found myself relaxing despite the heavy conversation. There was something about Noah that made the difficult things easier to say.

Then he stood up abruptly. "I need to check the perimeter."

"You already did that. Twice."

"I know." He was already moving toward the edge of the firelight. "Just... humor me."

I watched him disappear into the darkness, and something cold settled in my stomach. This was the third time tonight he'd done this. The third time he'd left me by the fire while he vanished into the trees. And each time, he'd been gone a little longer.

When he came back, his jaw was tight.

"Everything alright?" I asked.

"Fine." But his eyes were scanning the treeline like he expected something to emerge from the shadows.

I studied his profile in the firelight. The careful way he was sitting, angled so he could see both me and the forest. The way his hand rested casually near his knife. The way he kept glancing at the darkness like he was tracking something I couldn't see.

"Noah?"

"Hmm?"

"You're scaring me."

That got his attention. He turned to look at me properly, and I saw the conflict in his eyes. Like he was wrestling with something.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to."

"Then tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong."

"You're lying."

He went very still. "What makes you say that?"

"Because I've spent years learning to read danger in every shadow, every sound, every person I meet. And right now, you're practically vibrating with tension."

"I'm just being careful."

"Careful about what?"

He didn't answer, just stared into the fire. But I could see the war playing out across his features. Whatever he was hiding, it was eating at him.

"The way you move," I said slowly. "The way you carry yourself. It's not how a merchant moves."

"I've told you, I'm not like most—"

"No." I cut him off. "You're not. Because merchants don't know how to scout a perimeter like you do. They don't position themselves strategically around a campfire. They don't check for threats with that kind of... precision."

Noah's hand stilled on his knife handle.

"You've had training," I continued. "Real training. Military training."

"Amal..."

"And the way you reacted when I mentioned Prince Faisal." I was putting pieces together now, and each one made my stomach clench tighter. "You knew that name. You knew it before I said it."

"A lot of people know that name."

"Not like you did." I leaned forward. "When I said 'Ibn Rashid household,' something changed in your face. Like you'd been expecting to hear it."

He was quiet for a long moment. Then: "You're very observant."

"I've had to be." I stood up, my legs suddenly unsteady. "Who are you?"

"I'm Noah."

"That's not what I asked."

Another silence. Longer this time. The fire popped and hissed between us, and somewhere in the distance, an owl called. Normal forest sounds that suddenly felt ominous.

"I need to check the perimeter again," he said finally.

"No." I stepped between him and the darkness. "No more checking. No more disappearing. No more lies."

"Amal—"

"Tell me who you are."

He looked at me for what felt like forever. I could see him weighing his options, calculating risks. And that calculation in his eyes was what finally broke something inside me.

"You're not here by accident," I whispered. "Are you?"

He closed his eyes. "No."

"You didn't just fall injured across my camp."

"No."

"You were looking for me."

"Yes."

The world tilted. I gripped the log behind me to keep from falling. "How long?"

"How long what?"

"How long have you been looking for me?"

"A while."

"How long?"

"Six weeks."

The number hit me like a physical blow. "Six weeks."

"Amal, I can explain—"

"Who sent you?"

"No one sent me."

"Then why—"

"Because I needed to find you before they did."

"They?"

He ran a hand through his hair, and I noticed for the first time that his hands were shaking. "Faisal's men. They've been tracking you."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I've been tracking them."

The pieces clicked into place with sickening clarity. "You're one of them."

"No."

"You're working for him."

"No."

"Then how do you know about his men? How do you know they're tracking me? How do you know any of this?"

Noah looked at me, and I saw the exact moment he made his decision. His shoulders sagged, and something that might have been relief crossed his face.

"Because my name isn't Noah," he said quietly. "It's Idris. Prince Idris ibn Rashid."

The words hung in the air like smoke. I heard them, understood them, but couldn't make sense of them. They didn't fit. They couldn't fit.

"What?"

"I'm Faisal's brother."

The ground disappeared beneath my feet. The world went white at the edges, and I felt myself sinking back onto the log.

"You're..." I couldn't finish the sentence.

"I'm his younger brother, yes."

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

"You have to be lying."

"I'm not."

I stared at him, this man who'd been sharing my fire, eating my food, listening to my stories. Who'd sat across from me night after night while I told him about what his brother had done to me.

"This whole time," I whispered.

"Amal—"

"This whole time, you've been lying to me."

"Not about everything."

"About everything that matters!" The words tore out of me. "Your name, your family, your reasons for being here—what else is there?"

"My feelings for you."

"Your feelings?" I laughed, but it came out broken. "You expect me to believe you have feelings for me? You're his brother. You're family. You probably think what he did was justified."

"I think what he did was monstrous."

"Then why didn't you stop him?"

"Because I couldn't. Because I was young and powerless." His voice was raw now. "Because I tried to speak up once, and he made sure I understood that my opinions weren't welcome."

"So you just... watched."

"I watched. I memorized faces. I made lists of names." He leaned forward. "I've been planning this for three years, Amal. Three years of figuring out how to get close enough to help without getting myself killed in the process."

"Help who?"

"All of you. The ones who escaped. The ones who are still there." He met my eyes. "The ones who died trying."

Something in his voice made me believe him. Or maybe I just wanted to believe him. Either way, I felt some of the panic recede.

"Why me?

"Because you made it out. Because you survived. Because I've been watching you for weeks, and I've seen how strong you are. How clever. How careful." He paused. "And because Faisal's men are closing in, and this might be my only chance to save at least one of you."

"Save me how?"

"Marriage."

The word dropped between us like a stone.

"Marriage," I repeated.

"It would put you under my protection. Make you untouchable. Faisal couldn't reclaim you without starting a war with the crown."

"And what would you get out of it?"

"A wife I choose instead of one chosen for me. A chance to do something right instead of just standing by and watching."

I studied his face, looking for the lie I was certain must be there. But all I saw was exhaustion and hope and something that might have been love.

"You're serious."

"I'm serious."

"You want to marry your brother's escaped slave."

"I want to marry the woman who was brave enough to escape him."

I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of the impossible choice. When I opened them, he was watching me with an expression that was hopeful and terrified in equal measure.

"How long do I have to decide?"

"They'll be here by dawn."

"That's not long enough."

"I know." He reached out slowly, and after a moment's hesitation, I let him take my hands. "But it's all the time we have."

I looked down at our joined hands, then back up at his face. This prince who'd offered me a crown and called it salvation.

"Ask me properly," I said quietly.

I can at least have that, right?

He stood straighter, and for a moment I saw it—the prince he actually was. The authority he carried, the way he held himself when he wasn't pretending to be someone else.

"Amal, will you marry me? Will you be my wife, my partner, my equal in whatever comes next?"

I looked up at him, and suddenly the weight of what I'd just agreed to hit me. This wasn't Noah asking. This was Prince Idris ibn Rashid. A member of the royal family. Someone I should be bowing to, not sitting casually beside a campfire.

"I..." I started to stand, confusion washing over me. "Your Highness, I—"

"Don't." His voice was firm but not unkind. "Not you. Not after everything."

"But you're—" I gestured helplessly. "I can't just... Noah, I—" I stopped, my hand flying to my mouth. "I'm sorry. I meant... Prince Idris. Your Highness."

Something pained crossed his face. "You see? This is exactly what I was afraid of. You're already pulling away from me."

"I don't know how to be around you now." The words came out smaller than I intended. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do, how I'm supposed to act. You're not... you're not Noah anymore."

"I'm still the same person."

"No, you're not." I shook my head. "Noah was a merchant. Someone like me. Someone I could talk to as an equal. But you..." I looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the prince now that I knew to look for it. "You're royalty. You're untouchable. You're—"

"Pretty sure I am the man who just proposed, and you treated it like background noise."

"You're the man who's been lying to me for days."

He was quiet for a long moment. "Yes," he said finally. "I am."

I stared at him, this stranger wearing Noah's face. "I don't even know you."

"Yes, you do."

"I know Noah. I don't know Prince Idris."

"Then let me show you." He took a step closer, and I had to fight the urge to step back. "The way I laugh at your terrible jokes—that's real. The way I listen when you talk about your past—that's real. The way I look at you when I think you're not watching—that's real too."

Despite everything, I felt myself softening. "And the rest?"

"The rest was protection. For both of us."

I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of the impossible choice. When I opened them, he was watching me with an expression that was hopeful and terrified in equal measure.

"Yes," I whispered.

His shoulders sagged with relief. "Yes?"

"Yes, I'll marry you." The words felt foreign on my tongue. "I'll marry you, Prince Idris."