Kamar’s father was a lot of things, but he wasn’t stupid.

He wouldn’t gain anything, except a riot, if his frequent dinner parties were aired to the public. While some people barely scraped together money for bread, the Prime Minister was hosting lavish meals for his corrupt government buddies.

Mikhail waited for Kamar’s answer.

When his lover said nothing, he lowered his mouth closer to his ear again. The last thing he wanted was for the General or any of the kitchen staff to hear them, darkness or no darkness. “Do you think they followed us?”

“Maybe,” Kamar sounded unsure. “I mean, I didn’t tell them.”

Mikhail brushed his lips over his cheek. “I wasn’t accusing you.” There was a beat of silence and then he asked, “Do you think I told them?”

“No.” Kamar sounded even more uncertain of himself.

Mikhail moved his hands off him, giving them space. He knew Kamar turned around when his rebel’s palms flattened over his chest.

“Of course I don’t think it’s you. It’s just that this is all so crazy. Everything’s happening all at once.” Kamar’s breath hitched, his voice wavering at the end of his statement. He took a moment before he continued, “I wanted this to work out. I wanted for all of it to go back to normal, be okay…”

Mikhail clasped his hands over Kamar’s on his chest. Giving him a squeeze, he said, “It will. Nothing’s changed.”

Kamar sniffled softly. “How can you be so optimistic?”

“Easy. I trust in your plan. It’s a terrific one, and it will work. We’ll make it work.” It felt like he was talking about more than the plan. Mikhail had captured all the factors that could define and end their relationship, namely the one of Mikhail lying to Kamar about his identity, about his pretty important past…

Smiling into the darkness, Mikhail said, “So, we’ve been thrown a curveball. Let’s get it back on track, all right?”

Kamar answered him with a kiss. A chaste one that ended before Mikhail could awaken into it. The memory of Kamar pressing into him lingered as his rebel lover addressed his kitchen staff. He instructed them to remain calm and help gather the candelabra that could ease their passage in the dark.

Once the staff had some candlelight going, Kamar told them to head out to the bath house in the back and barricade themselves there.

“You too, General Ishmael,” Kamar said.

“Me?” the general’s face glowed eerily as he peered around the elaborately-carved candlestick on the counter. “Shouldn’t I stay and help you two?”

Kamar and Mikhail shared a look, before Kamar shook his head. “We’ll check on the rest of the guests.”

“They’ll kill you,” Ishmael said.

“That’s a risk we’ll take,” Mikhail said.

Ishmael gave them a long look. He lifted his shoulders and smacked the counter as though he’d tried hard to get them to join him. Once he left with the staff for the bath house, Mikhail nudged his chin to the kitchen’s exit where the din of fear remained loud.

“Let’s go.” Kamar nodded.

They headed to the lion’s den, hand in hand, Kamar breaking through the darkness with the single candlestick in his hand.

Mikhail sensed Kamar’s fear at the sight of the first gun and masked rebel. Not even the masks seeming redundant in the dark made him smile, not when he couldn’t be hundred percent positive that Suleiman and whoever else was here wouldn’t shoot him and Kamar. They hadn’t been too happy that Kamar didn’t want to meet violence with violence on Jibril’s behalf.

Ironically, Jibril was more like Kamar. Or so his lover told him. Non-violence was the older man’s preferred approach too. At the end of the day, Kamar and Jibril agreed they didn’t want any corrupt law enforcer dead. They were all citizens of Zhebair. Only they needed to start treating each other as neighbors rather than enemies or stepping stones.

Mikhail’s hand hoped he was the grounding weight Kamar needed. If their roles had been reversed, he’d have fled a long time ago. Kamar was truly braver than he gave himself credit for…

That’s why Mikhail loved him. And that’s why when this was all over, he’d tell Kamar everything.

Mikhail wondered how they’d find Suleiman and Asha in the dark with all the masked rebels. Then he recognized the megaphone in Suleiman’s hand.

Suleiman was crouched over Prime Minister Mustafa. Another rebel, a slimmer, womanly one, held a gun on Kamar’s father. As they neared, Kamar caught the threats Suleiman hissed at his father. He used crude words, tapping the megaphone against the Prime Minister’s fleshy cheek and taunting him.

At their approach, Suleiman looked over his shoulder; the masked woman, Mikhail guessed had to be Asha, trained the gun on Kamar and Mikhail.

Rather than lifting their hands in surrender, Kamar gripped his hand tighter, and he held the candlelight closer to their faces.

Recognizing them, Suleiman barked orders at his terrified guests. “Anyone move and you get shot, okay?” Turning on them, he snapped, “You two follow me. Same rules: you move and I shoot you.”

Leaving the room’s restless energy, Mikhail and Kamar held at gunpoint from behind by Asha, followed Suleiman upstairs.

At the top, Suleiman fell back. “Where’s good to talk?”

Kamar had to release Mikhail’s hand, but Mikhail let him go. If they could get Suleiman and Asha and their rebels to back off, then they had to take a shot.

“In here,” Kamar said, opening one of the doors down the long hall. “It’s the prime minister’s study.”

“Of course it is,” Suleiman sneered. Rounding on them when Asha clicked the door shut, Suleiman snapped, “What? What’s with the stupid faces? You think we would miss this party.” He tugged off the ski mask.

“You should have invited us, Kamar,” Asha said, her silky voice threatening. She, too, unmasked.

“We thought it best if we handled this,” Mikhail said.

Suleiman swiped the air, cutting him off with a harsh laugh. “Who are you again? A merchant he’d have us trust.”

“I’m not sure why Jibril relies on you, Kamar, it’s not like we can expect much from the son of the Prime Minister.” Asha held her gun like a shield, the action passive-aggressive even though Mikhail would prefer it not be in her hands at all.

“You’re making a mistake,” Kamar said finally.

“No, you’ve made the mistake. And if we’ve made a mistake, the only one was to trust you to help us, Brother Kamar.” Suleiman sneered again. “Now, if you don’t mind, we have guests to…entertain. We’ll be locking you two up in here. Keep you tucked away from the fun.”

Kamar wouldn’t budge when Suleiman stepped toward him. The skinnier man slowed, realizing Kamar stood in his path with a scoff.

“Get out of my way,” he ordered.

“Not until you call off the rebels and send them home, send them back to safety.”

Asha lifted the gun, with every intent to aim it at Kamar and do damage by the narrowing of her eyes in the candlelight.

Mikhail jumped on her.

She toppled to the ground with a yelp and a groan. Crushed under his body weight, she was unaware of Mikhail removing the gun from the lax grip of her hand. She remained senseless as Mikhail stood and backed to the door, the gun in his hands now.

Suleiman looked from Mikhail to the gun to Kamar. “What do you want?” he gritted.

“Peace,” Kamar said. “Change, yes, but also peace. I don’t want anyone to be hurt.”

Suleiman laughed bitterly. He shook his head. “They already hurt Jibril.”

“You don’t know that! Jibril’s tougher than you give him credit for. He’s the soul of this rebellion, really. And if you can’t believe in him, then how can you believe in any positive future our cause exists for?” Kamar urged.

Bowing his head, Suleiman’s shoulders sagged.

Mikhail felt Asha stir on the floor. She sat up, took in the situation, and glumly dropped her head too. She hugged her arms around her middle, looking as lost as her friend. Pitiable creatures, really–like lost sheep looking for their shepherd. Kamar might not think himself a leader, but right now, when he spoke, he’d have to be blind not to notice the rapturous way Suleiman and Asha stared.

“We might have found a way to locate Jibril, but you’re not helping us with your scare tactics,” Kamar told them, gently. “Please, take the rebels home, explain that we’re working on helping Jibril, and wait for my report tomorrow.”

Mikhail lowered the gun while Kamar stretched out a hand to help Asha to a stand.

“We want to keep our revolution a secret, yes?” Kamar asked them.

Suleiman and Asha nodded solemnly. No different than children being scolded into understanding.

“Then, please, go downstairs and do exactly as I tell you.” Kamar looked to Mikhail, and he smiled.

Mikhail got the sense Kamar hit his stride with this leadership thing.