Ali was left with the stall again when Mikhail couldn’t get Kamar or their talk earlier that morning out of his mind.

Too happy to be left alone to his devices, Ali waved him off enthusiastically. “I can handle sales,” he crowed, chest puffing with pride. And then, to butter Mikhail up, he added, “I had a good teacher.”

Mikhail’s smile vanished as he neared his destination.

Jibril’s home hadn’t been too hard to find, despite its being nestled between smaller apartments. Mikhail moved through an alley into a concrete courtyard. It might have been beautiful, if someone had thought to maintain the area. As it was, it looked more like a dump. Trash and dust were scattered about, the pavement stained with Lord-knew-what.

Mikhail was glad he opted out of robes today in favor of another of his black long-sleeved tops and dark wash jeans. He wouldn’t have liked having to worry that he’d be tracking dust and filth home with him.

He took longer strides, hoping to hasten this drop-in with Jibril to make it back to help Ali. Despite the lull of activity with the revolution, what with Jibril having only returned home, Mikhail had been trying to regain his normal routine. Normal being his life before he met Kamar…

Mikhail shook thoughts of his lover out of his mind. Though Kamar seemed to accept his apology for not sharing his royal lineage, Mikhail got the sense that their relationship had shifted. Frustratingly, he didn’t know if it was for the better or worse.

Spying familiar figures headed his way, Mikhail tucked his troubled thoughts away for now.

“Good afternoon,” Mikhail said, slowing to a stop.

Asha and Suleiman huddled together in discussion, moving shoulder-to-shoulder, paused at Mikhail’s greeting. They stared at him, one glowering openly, the other tilting her head as if she were analyzing an insect and deciding whether to bother squishing him or not.

Finally, Suleiman said, “Afternoon, merchant.”

“What brings you this way?” Asha asked, looking like she knew fully well Mikhail was headed into the building they’d only emerged from to see Jibril.

“I thought I’d see our mutual acquaintance,” Mikhail said.

Suleiman scoffed softly, his chin jerking to the side, his icy gaze staring off at the buildings surrounding them, closing in the unsightly courtyard.

Asha continued staring. Those dark eyes never wavering when she said, “I assume Khalid told you Jibril returned home.” She smiled then, a mocking little twist of her lips. “I wonder when he had the time to run all the way to you to share the news.”

“We spoke this morning, briefly,” Mikhail said, making sure to stress the half-truth. In reality, their talk had lasted at least an hour. Dawn had been chasing away the last of the bluish shadows in his guest room at the inn when Kamar stood, hugged Mikhail chastely and left him.

Suleiman snapped his attention back to Mikhail. Glaring at him, he bit off, “Well, he shouldn’t have told you anything. It has nothing to do with you.”

Whatever happened at the party six days ago clearly hadn’t changed Suleiman and Asha’s opinions of him. Suspicion chiseled in their hard features, Mikhail noted he’d be fighting a losing battle trying to woo them over. At least for the moment…

So rather than wasting time arguing, Mikhail stared past them to the door of the apartment building they’d walked out of.

“I should head in then,” he said, making to move around them.

Suleiman held out his arm, barring Mikhail’s path. Forcing the merchant to follow the arm to its owner’s face and the annoyance etched in that furrowed brow and snarling mouth.

“Don’t think we don’t have our eyes on you, merchant,” Suleiman warned. “We’re watching you. Any funny moves, and we won’t hesitate to strike.”

Mikhail raised his brows.

Asha took the gesture as a challenge. With an ominous smile, she said, “Still have time to back out, merchant–no one, not even Khalid, needs to know if you decided this wasn’t for you.” She pressed a finger to her lips, dropping it to add, “It’d be our secret.”

Regarding them coolly, Mikhail smiled, feeling his lips slowly stretching with humorless mirth. “I’ll make sure to keep that in mind. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Then, moving around Suleiman’s arm, Mikhail strode to Jibril’s apartment. He didn’t even pause to acknowledge Asha and Suleiman’s loud and fervent whispering. In the hush of the short building’s dim stairwell, Mikhail shook his head.

Gossiping biddies, that’s what they reminded Mikhail of, and yet, once Jibril’s wife cautiously questioned him and let him through to visit her husband, Mikhail found himself wondering if he should care. Not even about his own safety, but Kamar’s and those of the other rebels. Particularly the ones who had followed Asha and Suleiman into raiding the Prime Minister’s home not only a week ago.

Jibril was sitting upright in his recliner in the small, but tastefully decorated front room. The older man was propped up with pillows, an IV of clear fluid dribbling down through the feed attached to the inside of his left wrist.

At the sight of him, Jibril sat straighter, his weariness breaking away with his belly laugh. “Ah, finally! More company! Sit, sit,” he urged, gesturing for Mikhail to take a seat. They both had a view of Jibril’s wife bustling in the kitchen.

Jibril’s wife was introduced as Miriam. Adjusting her headscarf over her silvery black wispy hair, she relaxed now that she saw how friendly her husband was treating Mikhail. She even smiled at Mikhail, greeting him shyly. Serving them warm, honeyed tea, she left a tray of arrayed dessert biscuits.

Leaning in and keeping an eye on his wife over his shoulder, Jibril whispered, “I hope she wasn’t too hard on you.” He nudged his head at the door, implying he’d heard the interrogation Mikhail endured before Miriam gave him admittance for a visit.

“I’m sorry,” he said, with a small, sad sigh. His lips drooped, his smile wilting. “It’s my fault. I can’t imagine how worried she was while I was away.”

“You were taken,” Mikhail corrected, earning himself a surprised look from Jibril. “What I mean is you had no choice, and so therefore it couldn’t logically be your fault, or anyone else’s except those who chose to abduct you.”

“That’s what Asha and Suleiman reminded me.” Jibril nodded, the sadness clouding his eyes. It was hard to watch, especially when his eyes glittered with tears.

“Yes, I saw them.” Mikhail sipped his tea, savoring the taste. He used that time to pick a treat from the tray. Keeping his eyes down, he said, “I have to ask, why do you trust them? Khalid told me about Asha and Suleiman. They seem…frankly, volatile would be putting it nicely.”

When he looked up, Jibril had dried his eyes. No longer were tears shining close to the surface. Composed, he even tried a smile.

“I’m aware how Khalid feels about our friends. To be honest, I, too, am plagued with doubts.” Jibril leaned in again, lowering his voice, “I don’t want Miriam to hear about the revolution. She has no clue what I’m up to. In her mind, I’m merely a well of advice for fellow citizens like Asha and Suleiman.”

This time Mikhail joined Jibril in glancing over at Miriam. She had her back turned to them, chopping away at vegetables. The aromatic scent of assorted herbs soon overtook the room. Even though Mikhail had lunch already, his stomach rumbled.

He grabbed another sweet, date-filled biscuit from the tray.

“Anyway, I understand and appreciate yours and Khalid’s concerns. They’re valid, but,” Jibril paused for another sigh, “I have to consider their passion for the cause. It’s important I look at all angles, and at least, in that regard, Asha and Suleiman can’t be faulted.”

“They’re a danger,” Mikhail whispered, respecting Jibril’s wish to keep his wife out of the loop.

“I know. I received report of the party from Khalid.” Jibril shook his head, lips turned down gravely. “I’ve spoken to Asha and Suleiman. They’ve assured me it won’t happen again. I sensed sincerity from their promise.”

Mikhail still didn’t trust them.

Seeming to want to change the topic, now that Miriam wandered over to add another tray of freshly cut fruit to go with the biscuits and tea, Jibril said, “I understand you and Khalid are closer friends than I initially presumed.”

At that moment, Mikhail crunched on a biscuit, inhaling thicker crumbs at a sharp intake of breath. He coughed violently. It took copious amounts of tea to control the fit of irritable coughing.

“What makes you think that?” Mikhail breathed hoarsely. He massaged his throat, waiting on Jibril’s answer.

Jibril blinked, like he’d been asked to calculate a math question with an unfamiliar formula.

“Asha and Suleiman told me.” Jibril scratched the white stubs of beard prickling his chin. “I must say, I wasn’t too surprised. You two are a fitting couple. But if Asha and Suleiman are wrong, I’ll make sure to correct them. And I apologize on all our behalf.”

Mikhail had no clue what to say. Jibril looked to be waiting for a response.

Luckily Miriam wandered in at that moment, a phone in her hand. She covered the receiver, holding it out to her husband. “It’s your sister. She wants to check in on you.”

Taking his cue to leave, Mikhail stood and left Jibril with his phone call. On his way out, he paused at the foot of the stairwell to meditate on what Jibril told him.

So, he couldn’t seem to escape the gossip trailing after him. The rebels had to be especially bored if they were busy discussing Kamar and Mikhail.

Mikhail frowned, an idea bubbling to the surface, cutting through the mix of embarrassment and irritation blanketing in his mind. By the time Mikhail turned and pushed out of the apartment through the drab, gray courtyard, that idea had become a full-fledged plan.

If these rebels were so damn bored they were resorting to gossip, guess he’d have to find better use of their time.