📌 Previously in Chapter 16:
Zayd uncovered signs of a sophisticated smuggling operation involving marked crates and merchant guilds. At the same time, he encountered Layla bint Samirah, a poised and powerful merchant woman whose sharp gaze unsettled even seasoned traders. Though they exchanged no words, an unspoken awareness passed between them — like a spark waiting to catch fire.
📍 Scene: Damascus – Guest Quarters of Ustadh Daoud al-Yunan – Late Afternoon
Zayd washed the dust from his hands in a bronze basin as a servant brought in a folded robe of olive-green silk. Ustadh Daoud had summoned him to a formal banquet — and not just any gathering. Word was that emissaries from Sidon and Antioch would be present, along with the highest merchant families of Damascus.
ZAYD (to himself):
"Every smile tonight will hide a blade."
He tied his sash and looked toward Nimr, perched near the lattice window, as if to say: Watch everything.
📍 Scene Change: Garden Courtyard of House al-Yunan – Sunset
Brass lamps flickered. Rose petals floated in marble fountains. The aroma of lamb skewers, spiced lentils, and honeyed dates filled the garden. Silken drapes billowed in the breeze.
Zayd entered quietly, noting where each guest sat, who whispered to whom, who avoided eye contact. Then—he saw her.
Layla bint Samirah, radiant in amber silk and obsidian earrings, stood beneath an olive tree. She wasn't speaking. She was listening.
Zayd approached the host table slowly. As he bowed to Daoud, he found Layla's gaze brushing past him… then returning.
DAWOOD AL-YUNAN (smiling):
"You arrive with sand on your boots, Zayd, and still command attention."
ZAYD (smirking):
"The desert teaches entrance, ustadh."
Laughter rose lightly. But Layla remained still.
📍 Scene Change: Banquet Table – An Hour Later
The guests discussed trade routes and tariffs, piracy along the Phoenician coast, and a strange increase in warehouse fires. But Zayd's mind was divided — half on the lion-marked crates, and half on the woman whose fingers traced her goblet's rim while her eyes traced him.
Then came the poetry.
The host requested a poem from each guest — an old custom of wit and charm. Some recited verses of Rumi. Others quoted old Arabic love ballads.
Then the host gestured to Zayd.
DAWOOD:
"You're young, but I hear you read poetry like you read a ledger. Share something, if you dare."
Zayd stood slowly. He didn't look at Layla. Not directly. But every word was chosen for her.
ZAYD (softly):
"Between clove and steel I walk the line,
My heart a coin, my thoughts of wine.
A glance that cuts, a smile that binds,
And silence where a lover hides.
She speaks not, yet commands the room…
And I, the fool, would gift my gloom."*
A hush fell. The wind lifted a silk veil from Layla's shoulder. She turned her gaze — not toward the wine, or the bread, or the stars — but to Zayd.
And for the first time, she smiled. Just once.
📍 Closing Narration
That night, no promise was made. No hand was touched. But a rhythm began — unspoken, unheard, and undeniable.
The boy who had walked the desert now danced in the gardens of Damascus. And the girl whose ships ruled the sea… had heard the whisper of his heart.
🔜 Next in Chapter 18:
Zayd follows the trail of the lion-marked crates to a shady silk dyer in the outskirts. Meanwhile, Layla sends him a sealed letter — not of business, but a riddle. And Nimr senses danger.