Chapter 186: Like Father Like Son

Duban bowed next.

He held it a little too long, and when he finally straightened, he did not meet Malik’s eyes.

He simply vanished in a flash of green light.

Aladdin did the same.

The young commander had talked loudly about dying for his Sultan since the day Malik first met him in a desert, and now he stood silent with his fists shaking at his sides.

Thus, he too bowed and went.

Azeem tried to bow as well, and he was too stiff to do it.

His hands were clenched so hard that blood ran between his fingers, dripping onto the stone in thin red lines.

Every part of him wanted to stay.

Malik could see it in his shoulders.

But a Sultan had given an order, and so Azeem turned and left.

He did not once look back.

Malik understood why.

If Azeem had looked, he would not have been able to leave.

Zafar was much the same, though his grief had no pride left to hold it in.

Tears ran freely down his cheeks.

This was the moment he had been waiting for ever since the day he came crawling back, the chance to fight beside his Sultan to the end, and it was being taken from him again.

"Dammit."

It came out cracked.

Then he was gone too.

That left the closer circle.

Malik looked at Huda, expecting an outburst.

She had a temper for exactly this kind of moment, and he had braced for the shouting.

But...

"..."

She said nothing.

Her face was unreadable.

Huda stared at him for one long heartbeat with her pink eyes flat, and then she turned and silently walked out of the hall.

Safira watched her go with open surprise, then shook her head and stepped forward.

Her ginger hair caught the light, and her smile was warm and a little shaky.

"I know that you will survive, Teacher."

She said it wholeheartedly.

"This is not goodbye."

Malik nodded.

It was the only answer he could give.

Dunya stood at his left, trying and failing to hide what she felt.

Her face would have broken the coldest of hearts.

She raised her trembling hands, but no words formed.

In the end she only reached out and squeezed his sleeve once.

Safira took her gently by the arm, and the two left together.

Four remained.

Sinbad looked at Malik.

Malik looked back.

No word passed between them.

There was no need.

They had flown together through the end of the world, and every conversation they needed had been had a long time ago.

Sinbad gave a slow nod, and Malik nodded in return.

Layla and Amal were his to protect.

He was their guardian.

The crimson owl hopped down from the pillar, spread his wings once, and landed on Amal’s shoulder.

Amal understood at once.

She dashed across the hall and threw herself against her father’s legs, both fists gripping the folds of his robe.

"No, please!"

Her voice was small.

"I don’t want to go, Father. Please don’t make me go. I’ll stay out of the way; I promise I won’t be a burden."

Malik felt something give in his chest.

"Please... baba, I can help. I can kill; you taught me. I can stand next to you."

"Amal."

"I don’t care if it’s dangerous! I want to stay with you! Please, please, please don’t send me away."

She was sobbing now, her small shoulders shaking.

The little one had always been the bravest of them all.

She had stood in the face of Corruption itself without flinching.

But this was a different kind of fear, and she was only a child.

Malik knelt in front of her and took her face in both hands.

"Look at me."

She looked.

"You are not a burden. You will never be a burden. Do you understand?"

Amal sniffled.

"The reason I have to ask you to go is simple. If you stay, I will spend every second worrying about you. I will look over my shoulder when I should be looking ahead. And that’s how fathers lose fights."

His smile widened at her.

"You know that your father loves you too much for that, right?"

Amal’s lip wobbled.

She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his collar.

He held her there for a long time.

Layla had watched all of it without a word.

She had not said anything when Amal cried out, and she did not say anything now.

The queen only let the tears slide down her face, watching, at least for a little while.

At last she stepped forward and laid her hands on her daughter’s shoulders.

Gently, she pulled Amal away.

She started to turn, then stopped, her hand still resting on Amal.

Her lips parted, and he knew what she was about to say.

He knew it as clearly as if she had said it.

"You trust me, don’t you?"

She stared at him.

"I’ll live."

Her eyes closed, and when they opened again, they were steady.

"I trust you."

She turned, took Amal’s hand, and walked toward the circle with Sinbad flying low behind them.

At the edge of the light, she did not look back.

Neither did Amal, though her small shoulders trembled with the effort.

The silver lines flared, and they were gone.

The hall was very quiet now.

The projection still hung above the floor, the black ceiling of ships crawling a little closer across the western plains.

Somewhere outside, the sound of footsteps had begun to thin.

There was still time, but not very much.

Only one person remained in the Sultan’s Hall.

He had not moved from the doorframe.

The man leaned there with his arms folded and his eyes fixed on his son, and he did not look like a man preparing to go anywhere.

Malik looked at him.

"You won’t go no matter what I tell you, right?"

Hakim nodded.

"You might be their Sultan, you might be mine. But I am your father."

Malik stared at him, deadpan.

"That you are."

Like father, like son.