I didn’t think I could be angrier than the moment Hala had been tossed into my arms by Bròn, just outside of Shahin’s palace. I was wrong. Being on the other end of such a question had me seeing red, my blood boiling, and my heart rate entirely erratic. I felt like I’d just done 18 hours of training with Namir and Asad in that moment. A punch to my gut, a breaking of my ribs, nothing came close to the pain that rattled me with those words. I froze, my hand holding the bandage that I’d tied around her. I couldn’t force myself to speak, no matter how I’d willed it. My worst assumptions had been confirmed; she had been forced to endure more than I could stomach imagining.


    After an eon of silence, my voice finally worked as I’d wished. “It’s me, Hala. You’re okay.”


    Her spine stiffened. She bristled a bit. I tore the bandages, bringing the robe back up over her shoulders. I had been through my own Hell over the past few weeks, running between playing Strategist for what I felt could be a long, long conflict with Otlak; and being a translator, friend, and emotional support system for Hala. I stood from the bed, steeling my resolve, and tried to speak as clearly as possible.


    “Stand up, Themaz.” My voice wavered ever so slightly, but I doubted Hala noticed.


    She listened without so much as a contemplative glance—the subdued nature off-putting. I took her hand in mind, guiding her to the balcony and opening the large doors with my free hand. Her eyes, still distant, drank the landscape before us apathetically. Her hand fell to her side as I released it, offering her my back after I crouched down.


    “Get on.” I instructed.


    Once again, she listened without a word. I hoisted her up on my back, her arms latching securely around each other, clinging onto my neck with a tightness I didn’t expect while I ascended the lattice of her balcony. Once we’d made it to the roof, I peeled her arms from each other, and lowered a bit for her to get her footing. Once she stood upright, I took her hand in mine again and walked her to the same spot we used to sit at as kids.


    “I used to come up here all the time…” Hala murmured as her eyes remained glued to the sky. The stars were twinkling especially bright, as if putting on a show for her after such wretched nightmares in an act of apology.


    “Someone told me you liked coming up here when you were dealing with conflict.” I said smoothly. Despite her condition, she was still the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on—the most beautiful woman in all the kingdoms.


    A small secret no one would ever say aloud was that the Kings of the Seven Kingdoms were all jealous of Namir; not for his brute strength, or ability to lead both on and off the battlefield; but they were jealous of the Queen who sat at his side on the dais. A hidden gem, found within a farm in the lands further north. I could see how Royals and Nobles eyed Al’Haya, with lustful hunger or longing desire. I watched numerous times as the same Nobles and Royals tried to get her to sit beside them during socials, or spoke to her with honeyed words in an attempt to swoon her. They’d speak of her in code; ‘The True Beauty’ was their monicker for her.


    Hala was almost a mirror image of her mother, though with minor differences given to Hala by Al’Namir; such as her complexion and sharper jawline. They bore the same cheekbones and heart-shaped face; the same full lips that created a hauntingly serious expression when resting, but lit up a room when smiling; and the same shade and texture of loosely waved hair. The only thing that a newcomer would know to set the two apart right off the bat were their eyes—Hala’s were of Namir’s genetics. Russet with a deep pool of amber in the center. Haya’s eyes were the same shade of warm brown the whole way through. Even rail thin and marred beyond comprehension, she was a sight to behold. She had gained some weight and movement, but it was still a shell of her former self that looked back at me each day.


    My heart stayed in a gallop, the thumping echoing in my eardrums as the crickets chirped to fill the silence that sat between us. I looked up at the stars in an attempt to soothe the feelings that welled inside of me. I felt horrible in that moment, keeping our past a secret from her. If she knew I was Idris, though, would she still look at me the way she had been over the last few weeks? I loosed a breath.


    It was just two weeks ago that I was on my way back from a small gathering, young noble children wanted to discuss the possibility of a Chon club and asked me to be the leader of it. I was smitten by their excited faces as they dragged me through the courtyard, piling around me to get me into the recreational building they visited for tutoring. Out of nothing but sheer reflex, I looked over to Hala’s room and saw her staring out of it. A smile lined her lips, not meeting her eyes as if she were pained by something more than her wounds. When I’d tried to ask her about it, she snarked at me to mind my own business and stop looking in her room. Her bite hadn’t left, and it was comforting to hear such rage-filled words, in a way. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The week after that…I almost shuddered at the memory. In the same courtyard, after training, I’d been on my way to my room. Jamila’s brother was my opponent that day, a lean and muscular man by the name of Kharif. I was unfortunate enough to run across his sister that day, tunic in hand as sweat clung to my body. Her gaze lingered on me as she approached, relishing the sight of my body in its semi-bare form.


    “Abyad,” she purred, inching closer. “You’ve been all work and no play, lately. Come to the bar with me, won’t you?”


    I couldn’t bring myself to look at her with a facade, my disgust at the notion clear as the air that day. Still, the woman wound up wrapped around my neck like a viper. Her chest was pressed up to mine, nearly spilling from the low-cut dress she wore—a new interest in Jagan’s clothing had sprung up within some social circles, and the culture left little to the imagination with their fashion choices.


    “I can’t.” I said, placing my hand at her waist in an attempt to urge her off of me gently. Her grip tightened in reluctance.


    “It hurts me, seeing you holed up in this palace all the time, Themaz.” She drawled.


    A deep sigh escaped my lips as I looked towards the garden, my temper growing more aggravated by the second. I didn’t want her all over me like this—I wanted a shower.


    “I’m doing just fine, Jamila. You needn’t worry about me.” I replied. She let out a lustful whine, to which I knew I had to indulge her fantasies to escape my imprisonment.


    “Why don’t you be be good for me, hm?” I asked, putting on a feline-like tone of flirtation. “I’ve been dying to eat your Strevaldi bread for weeks. You said you’d bring it for me months ago.”


    Her eyes lined with self-deprecation as she looked at me, as her expression fell. “I totally forgot, Abyad. I’m so sorry.”


    I offered a charming smile, brushing the small of her waist with my hand and patting her hip. Her arms loosened, and I came out the victor as she drew away. “I wanted to revamp the recipe for you…I’ll be back in a few days with it, okay?” She asked.


    “You’d better.” I winked as I passed her, my hand lingering on Jamila’s hip for dramatic effect. Sometimes, I hated my new appearance. I caught Hala’s eyes peering at me from her room as I walked into the main entrance, pure possession in them. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t found it kind of sexy. Once I returned to my chambers and showered, I visited Hala in the late evening. She was the coldest I’d ever seen her, snapping at me like a wild animal when I asked her questions about her day.


    As I drew myself from the memory with a bristle, I felt eyes searing into me. I peeled my gaze from the stars, meeting Hala’s, and smiling at her.


    “What? Have I got something on my face?” I asked.


    “No…Your eyes are just very nice under the stars…” She replied, her voice a soft preen to my ego. “I’ve said this before, but you remind me of someone.”


    It was like being kissed on the cheek before a punch to the jaw. My smile shrank a bit as I eyed her with a tight chest.


    “I’m merely a loyal subject.” I replied. I forced the smile wider, speaking some truth. “I wouldn’t mind you gracing me with such compliments more often, though.”


    The softest smile I’d ever seen on her pulled at her full lips in response, as she broke eye contact with me. My heart wrenched, wishing she could have at least looked at me as she did such a thing. It took everything in me not to place my hand under her chin and force her eyes to meet mine, to tell her I only ever wanted that kind of smile to be aimed at me. I’d have done it on any other woman—but Hala was always just out of my reach. I tried to relish the moment, as something more than acquaintances, to the best of my ability. The self-loathing began to worm its way into my mind as I watched her, and I forced myself to stand. I jerked my head at her, beckoning her to follow as I offered my hand out to help her do the same.


    “Let’s go in.”


    Hala took my hand, wincing as she stood. I crouched down again to offer her my back, and she leaned against me as her arms clung around my neck once more. In a few strides, we were at the lattice. A swift series of movements, and we were back on the balcony. I placed her down and let her limp back into the room on her own terms, knowing she may feel insulted if I tried to guide her myself. I pulled her sheets back, and Hala slowly lowered herself into the bed, cursing under her breath the whole way down. Some things never changed.


    “Get some rest, Themaz.” I said, pulling the sheets up over her and ruffling her hair.


    She nodded, her eyes heavy with exhaustion before falling shut. I slinked out of the room, closing the door quietly behind me. I felt even worse after that door shut, knowing she had no clue of who I was, or how I knew her. I padded down the halls, coming to a conclusion: I knew how to hint at who I was without saying anything, at all. I got to my room and opened my own door, leaving it cracked as I fumbled my way through the darkness and onto the bed. I fell asleep as soon as I hit my pillow.