A Ring for the Fugitive Princess

It was a night of velvet and desire. Faris sat with his palms twisting frantically in his lap. He had escaped the palace and wandered listlessly through the garden. The air was thick, and he breathed in the faint sweetness of midnight. Faris's hands shook as he untied his turban, fingers clumsily tugging at the fabric. He ruffled his hair, undoing the crusting gel that itched him so. He was tired, and she was not there. Faris did not belong here. He was not truly a prince. 

Faris’s wife, Nova, had disappeared a few months prior. They lived in a holey tent that swayed violently in the wind. Some nights it would tear away from them, but it did not matter to Faris. He would hold her through the chill. If the tent loosened and flew, he would build another in the morning. 

They married in the sun, and he’d given Nova his mother’s ring. It was ruby and glinted by shards of light. They had no priest, so God was their witness. Their love was sacred to them, and they meant it when they sang, 

“Till death do us part.” 

Faris remembered the white strands...almost golden, and how Nova’s eyes were revealed. He saw her in segments. Her skin was dark and silky like the moonlit tide. How it spilled secrets and retreated to receive another’s depths. Nova’s hair in the sun was salty and divine. God loved her, and the earth knew to manifest His favor. You could tell by how she was outlined by the afternoon haze. Nova was a sacred gift from Heaven. 

“He who finds a wife, finds a good thing,” gleamed Faris. 

When Nova looked at him, a single tear shimmered beneath her copper iris. She watched him in awe as one does a vast anomaly. A beautifully rare commodity. From afar they seemed to be clothed royally in linen, but they were draped in rags. They said their vows: That no matter the circumstance, they would always find each other. Always. 

 ***

And it was all just yesterday that he was holding her, but now she was gone. Faris remembered the night he awoke to an unnerving screech. He jumped up immediately, and saw his wife flailing chaotically...kicking, punching, but her punches were all but pats to 

the men who carried her away. 

Faris tore what was left of his rags and began to suffocate the stranger who held his wife. But he did not reckon that someone was standing behind him, and just as quickly Faris was stabbed in the abdomen. But as he bled...he refused to surrender. Nova’s cries were muffled now. She fought frantically, though she was no match for the muscle that had locked her in his arms. They stole her out of the tent and ran. Faris sprinted behind them... 

“NOVA!” 

His vision flew into a frenzy of darkness. There were no clouds, no stars, no Nova. There was only a tormented cry in the distance, and the grief of his failure to reach her. 

“I will find you, Nova,” he hiccupped, “Just as I promised.” Faris gasped and then fell into black. 

***

Achingly, Faris awoke to an empty light. A fuzzy figure revealed itself in a blur. He tried to rise, but there was a tight sting to his movement. He fell back into helplessness then rose again. A hand laid outstretched on his chest. 

“Stay down.” 

“My wife,” he quivered. 

“I know. Get some rest.” 

But Faris fought. He had vowed. She was the only thing he had. All his life he was penniless, but without Nova, Faris was truly poor. He was a forgotten man, and the one who promised to remember him was gone. 

“My wife,” he cried. 

“You must rest, or you will die before you find her.” 

“Or she will die before I wake.” 

“She will not die. I know where she is. I know what you must do.” 

Faris rose to meet his gaze, but once again fell quickly. 

“Rest,” the voice commanded. 

Somehow, Faris felt safe, slowed his resistance, and reconciled with his aching body. Finally, he drifted off into sleep. 

***

A couple of days later, Faris blinked his eyes into focus. He sat upright on a prickly mat and was attracted to the smell of steamy cassia. A honey-tinted liquid shone in a clayed cup. There was still a sharp sting in his abdomen, and he went to scratch the wound but met a stained cloth instead. A figure sat out of the corner of his eyes. Faris turned to see a muscular man with a disheveled beard. He was rough and dark. 

“How old are you, boy?” the stranger questioned in suspicion. His eyes were cold yet sincere, and he did not turn his gaze from Faris. 

“Well?” he repeated. 

“Tell me who you are first.” 

“I’m the man who’s going to help you find your wife,” he laughed and scratched his beard, revealing a glistening ruby jewel in his fingers. 

“How? How did you get that?” 

“You answer my questions, and I’ll answer yours,” he watched Faris authoritatively, “So, how old are you, son?” 

“I’m twenty-one.” 

“What is your name?” 

“Faris.” He was leery. 

“I’ve been watching the two of you for a while, Faris. You collect scraps from the marketplace. You sleep beneath a flabby tent. God knows how you do it!” 

“Who are you?” 

“My name is Adobis. I was the king’s guard in the palace. ‘Nova’ is not who you think she is...They have been searching for her for years.” 

“What? Excuse me, but how have you obtained her ring?” 

“Simple. It was lying in the sand when I discovered you.” 

This worried Faris more. What might they have done to Nova? Why did they abduct her? 

“Faris,” he alerted, “Your wife is Princess Ezra. Daughter of our King Eshrad. The fugitive princess.” 

There was deep silence. Adobis observed how the news was being digested. This was such random information that Faris was almost dumbfounded by how ignorant he was perceived to be. 

“You expect me to believe that?” 

“Tell me where you met her.” 

“In the fields one day. She told me she had run away but from a poor man’s farm. She couldn’t return, and there were tears in her eyes.” Faris suddenly realized how strange the story had sounded. 

“How long has she been missing?” he asked. 

“Six years.” 

And that convinced him. It had occurred to Faris that he had not met Nova until six years ago. Prior to that...she was nowhere to be found. He recalled the night they met. There was something in the way she watched him. It was as if she trusted him with her life. 

“You will see ‘Nova’ again. I know just the way.” 

Faris turned to Adobis in urgent curiosity. 

“Because the princess has been found, the King will be impatient for an heir. He will have a celebration that will invite every suitable prince from each province, so that Ezra may finally have a child.” 

Adobis examined Faris. 

"If you truly wish to be reconciled with your wife, you must pose as a prince.” 

“How?” 

“I know what King Eshrad desires. I will train you to become that.” 

“Why is it you care so much to help me?” 

“I hope to convince the king of my loyalty to him. Only you are correct...I ask for one thing in exchange.” 

Adobis retrieved the ruby ring from the table and twirled it in his thick chubby fingers. His eyes were as cold and assured as when Faris first awoke. 

“May I keep this?” 

‘That is all?” Faris thought. He was expecting a limb...a large sum of money at least. However, the ring was the only relic he had of his mother before she passed away, but for his wife this was necessary. 

“It’s yours,” he struggled. 

Adobis enclosed his fist around the ring and winked, “Let’s get down to business, shall we?” 

*** 

For the next few months, Adobis taught Faris the way of a true suitor. King Eshrad was deeply concerned with matters of nobility, honesty, and courage. He was only hard to impress if one was insincere. Faris had no issue with this, there was an unspoken chivalry to him. The only practice Faris struggled to hone were the proclivities of a royal. He did not understand that there were specifics to bowing. 

“There is a method to this?” he complained as he overarched his back. Adobis shook his head. 

*** 

“You must win the favor of the King before you are given to the princess. You will wear my old garments to display the prestige of a military man,” 

Faris was engulfed in the clothing, but he learned to present himself with a measure of royal arrogance. Adobis taught him when to fight, how to properly use a sword, and when to draw it. Faris was clever and learned quickly. Before long, an invitation to the palace made its way through town. 

“We rejoice in the return of our Princess Ezra. You have been invited to her homecoming celebration.” 

Faris and Adobis travelled on foot for three days to the palace of King Eshrad. They were welcomed by the otherwise hostile bronze bars of the palace. There were guards aligned standing with gleaming spears and unblinking eyes. Columns of cedar revealed themselves further along their walk. The air seemed sweeter here, and the earth kinder. Palm trees towered above glassy pools of water. Women draped in jeweled veils and embroidered sashes waved branches before the entrance to the ball. Faris truly wondered what had caused his wife to flee from such a place. 

He followed Adobis in an indigo robe and ruby tunic, his eyes nearly obscured by the weight of the turban on his head. Jewels on his breastplate shimmered like his mother’s ring. 

Adobis wore a servant's garments: sandals, a turban, and a robe, though less splendidly adorned. He blended in quite well. 

*** 

Eventually, they halted and stood within the palace. 

“Remember the plan? You must remain silent. Answer no questions. I will leave you to enter, Your Highness,” he bowed. 

“What?” 

Faris became unsettled and eyed his master with great confusion. 

“You no longer need me. I will send for you when it is time to greet the king.” 

“Adobis, I cannot do this alone,” Faris pleaded. 

“But you will,” he replied, “I know you are capable.” 

*** 

Music swelled and a crowd of royals entered from outside of the ballroom. Faris took a deep breath, said a prayer, and approached the celebration. 

Upon entering, a mosaic of bodies swayed to the progression of a royal harp. Eunuchs, princes, and wealthy women were divinely entertained. Faris had not noticed the silence that greeted his entrance; he was a new face. 

“Who are you?” asked a young lady draped in red. 

But Faris did not respond. 

She stood awkwardly, eventually leaving to gossip of him with her companions.  

Soon after, a group of princes approached him. 

"You are the new mute prince we have heard of." they mocked. 

Faris kept quiet as Adobis had instructed. 

“What brings you here tonight? Do you expect to win the favor of the fugitive princess? Will you dance for her if you cannot speak?" they taunted, but still Faris stood quietly. 

He escaped to the gardens and sat miserably. He was no prince, and his darned turban itched. 

“Faris?” came a gentle voice from a shadowed corner. 

It was familiar and uttered by the same lips that had once caressed him. He sprinted to the shadows. 

“Nova?” he called, breathless. A figure emerged—it was her. He pulled her into his arms, tears streaming down his face. 

She kissed him with the vigor that comes from finding one whom you thought you’d lose forever. 

“Nova,” he whispered, his voice shaking. 

“You must call me Ezra here.” 

He lifted her chin and wiped her tears, kissing each one away. She leaned into him as if to say, “I’ve missed you.” 

“Faris, if only you had known.” 

“I know now,” he smiled gently. 

“Adobis sent me to fetch you, but you must go.” 

“I have come here for you. I am not leaving without you.” 

“I know, but my love... Adobis is not to be trusted. He is the reason I left the palace.” 

“What?” 

“He convinced my father that he would make a good husband, and when I refused, he turned him against me.” 

Faris did not understand, but before he could think, she pushed him away. 

“No, Ezra.” 

“They will kill you.” 

Suddenly, a shout came from behind them. The princess screamed for Faris to go, but he did not budge. Adobis stood beside the king, pointing to where they were hidden. 

“This man is an adulterer. He seeks to marry the princess, when he has a wife himself.” 

A crowd began to gather around the commotion. 

“I am no adulterer!” Faris protested, but he could not reveal that Ezra was his wife. 

A sharp voice cut through the crowd. It was the woman who had questioned his title in the ballroom. 

“He is my husband,” she shrieked, “He has bedded me and given me this ring.” She held it up for the crowd to see. It glistened crimson in the obscurity of moonlight!

Ezra gasped and turned to him. “You gave Adobis the ring?” 

“I bargained it so he would bring me to you.” 

Faris looked at Adobis, who smirked deceptively, and the king looked at Faris in disgust. 

“Behead him!” commanded the king. 

“Father!” screamed Ezra, but he did not listen or care; he was protecting his daughter from an unclean man. 

Faris wielded his sword as the guards approached him. 

“Go,” he urged Ezra, but she clung to him. 

Faris fought as best he could. Adobis smiled, as the violence made him look worse. Men were slashed, and they bled on the palace floor. This enraged the king further. Ezra was torn away from her husband as they threw him to his knees. 

“Adobis,” glared King Eshrad, “You do the honors.” 

Faris watched the man he had trusted lift the sword to his neck. He was reminded of the night his wife was stolen. 

“NO!” came a guttural cry. “NO!” 

 It was Ezra. Eshrad’s eyes softened at her scream. He motioned for her to step away, but she did not. 

“If you kill him, you kill me too!” 

“Ezra,” Faris struggled. 

Adobis did not mind beheading the princess; he had tried it long ago. He lifted his sword once more. 

“STOP!” yelled the king. “That is my daughter.” 

Ezra coughed, attempting to yell, “Faris is my husband!” 

Everyone stood in shock. 

“I will not leave him, even if it means you must kill me!” 

“Ezra!” cried Faris. “No!” 

He struggled as the guards pulled him away, his life depending on it, while she was prepared to die. 

The king was a hard-hearted man, but this image moved him. He watched a prince struggle painfully for his daughter, a man unconcerned with the crowd around him. 

“Adobis, hold your weapon,” he sighed and walked to his daughter. 

“Is this true?” 

She turned to him, tears spilling from her eyes. “Yes, Father.” 

The king demanded the ring from the woman who claimed Faris was an adulterer. 

She obeyed and did not meet his eye. The ring still shimmered; deeply engraved was the initial “F”. It was almost hidden. 

“Let the boy go.” 

As Faris fell to his knees, the king grew angry with Adobis. 

“What have you to say for yourself?” 

“I should have killed you when I had the chance. Your detestable daughter and that crown were mine.” 

“Do away with him,” gestured the king, seeking to exile Adobis. 

*** 

When the chaos subsided, King Eshrad called Faris and Ezra to his throne. They entered, nearly trembling, fearing his wrath. 

“Sit down,” he commanded. 

Faris kept his head bowed; he was not accustomed to royal ways and did not know what to do in this situation. 

“Look at me, son,” Eshrad ordered, and Faris obeyed. 

“I apologize to both of you on behalf of the kingdom. Though I am disappointed that Ezra did not tell you the truth.” 

“I was afraid it would be dangerous, Your Highness... And I was correct.” 

Faris turned quickly to embrace her. The king’s heart warmed. 

“Faris,” he said, “I admire your courage and resilience, and I am in need of an heir.” 

They both looked up in shock. 

"I see how much you love my daughter, and how much she loves you," King Eshrad said. "I could send you away, but it wouldn’t matter as long as you are together. What good would that do, huh?" 

He laughed, then quieted himself to observe them. 

"Stand," he ordered. 

They stood hesitantly, fearing the king's wrath. 

"Faris... I want you to give me an heir. You will marry my daughter and be titled King beside her." 

They stared in awe, as if to say, “Really?” 

And King Eshrad officialized it with a nod of his head. 

Not long after, a royal wedding took place. It was more magnificent than any previous celebration. Representatives from all the kingdoms came to wish the couple a happy matrimony. The runaway princess had been found and reconciled with her lover. Even the Prince of Persia attended. 

"Princess Ezra, daughter of our beloved King Eshrad, and our new Prince Faris, I royally pronounce you husband and wife," declared the officiant. 

Faris slid a ruby ring onto Ezra's finger, and they kissed so fervently that the audience fell silent. 

"They’ll have an heir in no time," someone remarked. 

No longer did they live in want or beg for food. By love, they were reconnected under God, a testament to many countries that love endures all things and never fails. 

"You see," said Faris, "I told you I would always find you." And they kissed once more.