《The Scars of Mahsul》


 Chapter 1: Hala

    I was born a woman of high merit¡ªroyalty, even. Had I known I''d end up where I am, though, I''d have remained a drop of spirit inside of my mother until the day she passed. Mahsul is a beautiful Kingdom, one that I took great pride in helping from an early age. People had always told me I resembled my Father, more than my Mother; especially when it came to problem solving. I spent many of my days as a child beside my Father in the throne room, listening to nobles as they complained about taxes for the millionth time¡ªor Imperial Courts-men as they tried to con Father into giving them an inch more of the bordering villa''s land. Often, I was left with a foggy mind when listening to such rambling¡ªjust as I''m sure my Father was. It never grew easier.


    By the time I could walk, I was wandering around the palace. Getting into laundry baskets, and slipping through the stable''s cracks when Father took me to learn horseback riding. I could never sit still unless I was given a task, which was why Father had tutors of all kinds at the ready. I loved learning, and I still do¡ªthough the wonder of unearthing new information is rather dampened by now. I remember finishing up the last lesson of the day, and sneaking off into town with an immeasurable quickness. I was too young to know that a real escape requires disguises; foresight, planning ahead. I merely squeezed through the Northern Wall''s crack and wandered into the heart of town, eyeing the reds of the watermelon flesh and yellows of the mango slices. The smell of freshly baked bread filled my nostrils, the sweet yeast making my mouth water. I loved getting closer to the ocean, hearing its muffled roars as they crashed against each other and the pier, smelling the brine as it wafted in with the wind. It wouldn''t be until a shrill cry broke my fascination that I knew there was a problem.


    Just as the sweet, gentle old man who ran the fruit stall was about to hand me a slice of the citrus I''d been watching (with drool almost falling from my mouth), I heard it. The cry made me whip my head around, and my eyes landed on a young boy. A peasant, unkempt and gangly, who was being bullied by some noble''s daughter. I forced myself away from the patronly stall-owner, wiping my mouth with my sleeve as I walked towards the scene.


    "Hey!" I yelled. The pristine little girl looked at me with vitriol, squinting her eyes as her brother dangled the peasant boy''s stick just out of reach. "You can''t do that!"


    "I can do whatever I want!" The girl sneered, "My daddy''s stronger than yours!"


    My jaw almost fell slack at her words. A father stronger than mine? Father was the strongest in the Kingdom. With such a proclamation, I simply had to know who her father was.


    "Who''s your father?" I asked with more of an edge than I meant to. Her words were bruising to my ego, and more importantly an insult to Father.


    "My daddy is Thueban, leader of the Sixth Battalion." She replied, using just as much attitude as she did when claiming she could do as she pleased.


    I knew she looked familiar from somewhere, but her father''s name made the memory clearer. It was on the training grounds, when Father was sparring with a grizzly looking man. Thueban''s salt and pepper beard was almost entirely soaked in sweat as Father stood laughing at him. The two had been carrying on for over an hour, with Thueban trying time and time again to attack Father as he thwarted them with little more than a swat of his hand.


    "You''re awful, Thueban." Father chuckled, crossing his arms as the Captain watched him with vengeance lining his eyes. "You can''t throw a punch to save your life..."


    Her face was familiar, because we''d been forced to spend time together on more than one occasion during our Fathers'' meetings¡ªJamila. That was her name, if I was recalling correctly. The sound of the little boy''s body hitting the ground as Jamila''s other brother pushed him brought me back to my senses, and as his blue eyes seared into me with both a defenseless woe, and lackluster pride, I puffed my chest out and repeated what Father had said that day on the sparring grounds.


    "He''s awful." I said flatly. "He can''t throw a punch to save his life, and his balance is worse than a three-legged horse."


    Her brows raised up as high as they could before furrowing. They resembled a Strolgian Caterpillar in that moment¡ªjust like the ones from my books. Fluffy, thick, and as disgusting as the look she gave me. Her lips fell from their snarky smile into a thin line, and I knew I''d just given myself a whole new problem to solve. Her anger was now directly pointed at me. I looked back at the peasant boy, and if eyes could speak: his were asking for help. I steeled my resolve as her voice grated my eardrums.


    "If my daddy is awful, your daddy is probably the worst!"


    In the time it took her to make such a statement, she had marched up to my face. Her eyebrows almost threatened to poison me, just like a Strolgian caterpillar''s hairs. My Father? The worst? No such statement would be seen as acceptable to me.


    "Who is your daddy?" She demanded.


    "My daddy," I began with the coolest tone I could muster. "Is Al''Namir."


    Jamila''s brothers looked to each other and had an entire conversation before looking at their sister. If I didn''t know any better, I''d have assumed they''d narrowly avoided soiling themselves when I told them Father''s name.


    "Jamila, we should go." The taller of the brothers, the one responsible for pushing the peasant boy, urged his sister with a tone one would use when quelling a wild beast¡ªsoft, gentle, appeasing. His words fell on deaf ears as Jamila cocked her arm back, as if ready to beat me up.


    "No! She said our daddy sucks! I don''t care if her daddy is Al''Namir!"


    The sound of a new voice rang through the air; the same kind of calmness one gets during Jidhaq fasting laced it.


    "If you hit her, think about the trouble you''ll be in. You''ll never see your father again."


    I shifted a bit to my right, to better view the origin of the voice. It belonged to the peasant boy, as he watched Jamila with an attentiveness I''d only ever seen from the maidens in the palace when tasked with watching over me. I almost smiled, before reminding myself that such an act could get me a fist to the face. Jamila drew in a short breath, before letting it out and lowering her fist. The boy''s looming threat had worked, and she backed away from me as her brother took her by the shoulder, escorting her away from me. With a final scoff, she began to turn around. I froze as she looked at me sidelong for a split second, and I swear I saw a Fiid in her eyes.


    Mother always told me that if I was mean to any of the servants, I too would be possessed by the Fiid. Her brother forced her to focus on the sidewalk ahead of them as they walked, and Jamila''s shorter brother dropped the peasant boy''s stick as he decided to join them. My smile finally cracked through my facade as they left, and I picked the stick up. I walked over to the boy with a swelling sense of pride in my chest, and I handed it back to him. I looked into those eyes again. I could have fallen into them, with how deeply shaded they were. It was like God himself had sketched such irises, using the same blue that revealed itself in a high-noon''s sky, fading into a cavernous shade of blue I''d only seen on fine silken cloth.


    "You didn''t have to do that." He said, taking the stick back as he sat on his knees. "Why didn''t you just stay out of it?"


    His question was a bit foolish, but it wasn''t a bad one. Mother always, lovingly, told me to stay out of others'' quarrels. She said that girls are supposed to be bringers of peace¡ªnot inciters of chaos. It''s not that I wanted to incite chaos in that moment, I wanted to stop it before someone got hurt. The boy was already scrawny enough, as if he''d missed weeks worth of meals. His eyes sensed my pity, though, as they zeroed in on my features. I sighed internally before answering him, putting on the same smile I''d been taught to give commoners.


    "I''m going to rule this Kingdom, and I want to do what Father does. I want to solve problems." I replied.


    The little boy almost looked annoyed by my answer, but I didn''t care. It was the truth. His eyes softened after a moment, and I almost thought about naming him something¡ªbefore reminding myself that people are given names at birth.


    "I''m Hala." I said, keeping the smile on my face. "What''s your name?"


    The little boy seemed to dislike his name as he remembered it, his lips puckering as if he''d just eaten a lemon. "Idris." The boy said sourly. "My name is Idris." The first thing that came to my mind was to compliment him on his eyes¡ªyoung as I was, I had no better compliment to issue.


    "You have cool eyes." I said, taking his wrist and tugging him up from the ground.


    "Where are we going?" He asked.


    "To adventure!" I announced.


    With that, I dragged Idris with me around the Kingdom that day. And the next, and the next. Any chance I had, I''d look for him by the pier as he toyed with barnacles using the same stick we''d bonded over. Eating fruits, and being offered bread in kind by merchants or stall-owners, we ventured as far as we could, my confidence high because I had a companion in tow. Along the beach were many sea shells, all different shades of orange and pink and cream and grey. Occasionally, I''d find a Sea Scorpion or hugged urchins. I smiled widely as I showed them to Idris, but he wasn''t as accustomed to the wonders of adventure. He''d shrink back at the sights, finding them to be odd¡ªif not disturbing. With time, though, he matched my strides as a small smile played at his lips. Idris'' steps were wobbly, faint, and weak at times¡ªa sign that we needed to rest, or rather, he needed to rest. We had finally made it along the brush of the beach, where the jungles met the sand in lush thickets. Seeking shade under some palm trees looming over us, we sat and smiled at each other. It wasn''t until I felt myself picked up by a strong hand around the collar of my robe that I knew he and I were in trouble.


    "Alright, you two, party''s over." Announced my Uncle, Asad.


    "But Asad!" I whined, dragging on the second syllable of his name to add dramatic effect.


    "No ''buts'' Hala." Asad''s strong voice said.


    Looking to my left, Idris hung by his own shirt collar. His eyes wide with fear darted over to me. I offered a sheepish smile, and if I could have shrugged¡ªI would have. After Asad brought us back to the palace, we were met with Father sitting on his throne. He looked pissed to see me with my hair as unruly as Idris'', and my robe dirtied with sand and dirt. His eyes traveled to meet Idris'', and he shrank back in his usual manner at the sheer presence of my father. I was all too used to such behavior¡ªFather was a daunting man, but his kindness surmounted his demeanor. The green in Father''s eyes seemed particularly bright that day, a sign that he was feeling something more than his usual joviality.


    "What were you two doing out there?" He leaned in closer to Idris, studying his features before looking to me, his voice low and filled with concern.


    I mustered up the most innocent, sweet voice I could to play to his weak spots. I may have been a child at the time, but I knew my Father like the back of my hand.


    "Looking for shells, and finding lizards."


    Father sighed deeply, and cleared his throat as if to stifle his frustration. "Haven''t I told you to stop slipping out of the palace?"


    "Yes..." I replied quietly, looking down and shifting on my feet. I could tell Father was growing more upset by how he scratched his trimmed beard, specifically his chin.


    "What is your name, little one?" Father asked Idris using the same voice he''d use with me when I was doing something he found pleasant.


    Idris'' eyes widened for a moment before answering, "Idris, Your Highness."


    He bowed so deeply I thought he''d topple over, how scrawny he was.


    "And why didn''t you go get a guard when you realized my daughter was in your presence, Idris?" Father asked. "Did she not inform you she was my daughter?"


    I watched him bend a bit at the hips towards Idris, as if cornering him when he asked his questions. If I didn''t know the kind of man my Father was, I would have misread his concern for anger. Idris straightened himself from his bow, looking at my father with an expression I''d only seen on veteran Courts-men whose lies came out at sweet as honey. Father watched him with a gleam of entertainment, as he concocted his string of lies.


    "I didn''t know, Your Highness." Idris said, keeping his tone level. Father raised an eyebrow at him, as he tried to fight the smile pulling at his lips.


    "And what did you make of a pristine little girl in fine quality robes wandering the city on her own?" He asked, crossing his arms. I knew this was him trying to be a bit more intimidating, but Idris stood tall. I wondered how such a young child could handle themselves so fluidly in front of Father, especially one of his stature. I watched from the sidelines, growing more and more frustrated. Idris was in no way to blame for my bad habit. But still, Idris'' eyes seemed to look just past Father as he thought of something to say.


    "She could have been the daughter of a tradesman, I know several of their daughters wear similar robes...not as fine as hers, though." Idris lied, never breaking eye contact with Father. He looked Idris up and down, scanning for any sign of deceit. And there I stood, silent and shifting on my feet, growing more impatient by the moment. I felt the words come out of my throat before I could stop them.


    "Father."


    Both of their eyes made contact with mine, as I stood there with crossed arms similar to my father. I was only eight at the time, but my mind was fully made up. I didn''t want to see Idris punished for my decision to slip out of the palace, nor did I want Father being such an interrogator to anyone but me or someone who''d actually done something wrong. "He''s not the one who snuck out of the palace." I reminded him. He looked at me with a hint of realization, as if the young boy before him had distracted him from something¡ªpunishing me.


    "You''re going to be by your mother''s side every day from now on, young Lady." Father said as he stood tall once more. There it was¡ªhis King''s voice. This wasn''t a request, but a command, and while part of me knew better than to argue, I''d been cursed with his short temper and quick mouth.


    "But Father!" I whined, trying to sound far more upset by the situation than I truly was. Mother wasn''t the worst to spend time with, albeit a little boring, but she was gentle and nurturing, a place of peace for me and so many others in our Kingdom. Still, I held firm on wanting my freedom, trying to convince him to at least punish me by making my chaperone someone far less capable of catching me when I tried to run off.


    "She doesn''t let me do anything!"


    "I don''t care. You must learn not to wander out of the palace, Hala. This is for your own safety. What would I do if someone hurt you?" He asked me. I wanted to snap back at him, tell him that when I got older I''d be just as strong as he and Mother. Tell him that I was more than capable of defending myself, in some way or another, but my small brain was too young to come up with the words to express such emotions¡ªso I puffed out my cheeks and huffed. Idris, watching the chastising take place, cleared his throat and spoke up once more, similarly to how he had when speaking to Jamila when she''d threatened to hit me.


    "Your Highness, Sir..." He stammered, though the calmness in his voice was slightly off-putting. "Can I...come visit her here?"


    Father looked back at Idris, watching him with both awe and satisfaction. When he looked back at me, though, I could see the ghost of a grimace on his face. I could tell that he didn''t like the idea of me spending time with a little boy close to my age¡ªhe was a protector, after all. I knew as firmly as I knew prayers that Father had no issue with Idris'' status¡ªhe met my mother when she was a servant of the Jabaals, and relentlessly sought her hand by helping her around their farm. It was the fact that Idris was a boy, and I was a girl. Looking back on it, he knew all along what he was doing when he spoke next.


    "Fine." He waved his hands, as if shooing us away in defeat. "I will permit it, but you''re to make sure you don''t let her slip into town anymore, boy."


    Idris and I looked at each other with triumphant smiles, and that began our escapades in the palace. At first, the servants took pity upon him for being so emaciated. Even our poorest peasants weren''t usually in his shape, but a few of the maidens would theorize how it had occurred when Mother and I sat idly in the tea room cross stitching. They wondered if Idris was orphaned, and if other peasants merely let him figure out the ropes of poverty himself. Our peasants were usually secluded, choosing to isolate from the rest of the Kingdom out of spite to survive without the help of commoners or nobles tossing dhebals their way. Possibly, Idris had been left alone in the secluded area of the Kingdom where peasants compete for food and shelter¡ªand he lost. I never grew the courage to ask Idris about it, because when he became a common visitor in the palace; his face shone differently. He began to gain weight, though still wiry and unkempt. His eyes were no longer the muted shades of blue; going from light to dark. They were almost entirely light blue, with their dark oceanic color lacing the irises. He could think, speak, and carry himself with a purpose¡ªand he was a friend.


    Every day that I''d see him, I''d shoot up ferociously from Mother''s side and scream wildly, running to him and slinging my arms around him, as he hugged me back so gently. His hugs were always so meek, as if he were cradling a Lutrov Hawk''s egg. I never grew tired of such hugs, finding them different from Mother and Father''s tight and guardian-like embraces. When we''d grown to be close to our preteens, I''d give him a kiss on the cheek like I''d watched nobles do to each other. The first time I did it, he looked at me with such wide eyes I thought they''d pop out of his head. I smiled at him, and hugged him tightly afterwards. Mother told me that I shouldn''t do such a thing very often¡ªespecially as next in line for the throne. I should only kiss those I wanted to bless. I didn''t care. I wanted Idris to receive every blessing God had for him, and if my kiss on the cheek acted as a beacon for God''s grace, I would shine that beacon each time I saw him. He was my dearest friend, the one I felt deserved the best of the best in life¡ªa good fortune, a happy family, a life of comfort.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    While I studied homemaking and academics, Idris spent more time with Father and Uncle. He''d come back from his time with them looking exhausted, and I knew then that they were trying to get the lanky boy to become a strapping young man. It was comical, watching him flounder to the ground under the trees of the garden as I sat and read books in Strolgian. He told me about the nickname they''d given him; Skwayar, and how it grated his ears whenever they''d beckon him to perform another odd-end chore around the palace in an attempt to strengthen him up. Poor Idris, always looking so tired and run-down, I thought. We''d all sit and eat dinner together later, with Uncle Asad trying to fill his plate until it was overflowing with meats and vegetables just as his did. Idris never ate it all, but by God, did he try.


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    It was the day of my 12th birthday that a large party was held in my honor. My Father was going to announce that I was ready for suitors, and the idea of that made my stomach tie in knots. I was more than confident in my homemaking skills, and I could speak several of the living languages. I didn''t find myself struggling to grasp being a wife, but I found myself struggling to grasp who would accept me as a wife. The noble boys I met at other parties were always so bland, never able to keep up with my sense of humor¡ªFather''s sense of humor. Instead, they shrank from my words as they echoed through whichever room we resided in. Noble girls told me I was too loud, too excitable, too much as a whole. Not that it ever stopped them from lingering around me like flies to horse dung when noble boys were around. I was deemed the prettiest of the group, but also the one who could fend off the pre-pubescent boys who were the real ones who were too excitable. It didn''t take much to scare them away from girls like Fatiha, who were quiet and soft-spoken. Just a broadening of my shoulders and a sidelong glare sent them scurrying along their way. Father had also blessed me with eyes that burned with fury at a moment''s notice.


    The entirety of the day had been spent with maidens, trying to figure out which robes suited me best and how my hair should be styled. I was insistent that I wanted my hair to dry before they''d touched it¡ªto which I was met with snide remarks about how difficult it was to braid or twist my hair when dried. I''d almost rolled my eyes out of their sockets with how often I''d heard the word ''imprudent.'' I was much happier looking over books of wildlife and studying Zarvian, but the academics were forced to wait for another, less formal, time.


    The night of the celebration, the smell of lentils filled the palace, as maidens and eunuchs spoke in hurried voices about different decorations they wanted littering the palace. I sat in my room, preening my eyebrows and hair, waiting for the festivities to begin. Idris had been busy that day, now 13, trying to catch a stray cat who had nabbed up one of Mother''s brooches. I was bored. Unbearably bored. It wasn''t until a maiden came into the room to dress me in my now-decided formal attire that I knew the party was ready to begin. My robe that night was the same shade as the coral harvested by our seasides, a vibrant orangey-pink with golden embroidery. It made my complexion seem even darker¡ªanother trait of Father''s. Mother had such a lovely light olive complexion; Father remained on the tawny and dark side, even in the colder months. I looked at myself in the full-length mirror, admiring the way the color brought my eyes to life. My waves that day had dried just as I''d hoped, too. In my eyes, it was going to be a good night for a party.


    I heard another meek knock on my door after changing¡ªIdris. A large smile burst from my lips as I opened the door, and finally got to see Idris'' attire. He looked good, wearing a fine cream-colored set of dress-pants and a matching tunic. The tunic was carefully made by a maiden in the palace, no doubt, to fit him in a refined way, and his curls had finally been washed and set to dry away from his face. I crossed my arms in satisfaction, enjoying the sight of my friend in such attire.


    "Amazing." I said simply.


    Idris balked at me with both insult and confusion lining his face, as if I''d just told him he looked like he''d been dragged through coals and lit ablaze. He looked down at his tunic, holding some of the garment out to study its design as he furrowed his brows.


    "You''re lucky I caught that cat." He scorned. "I thought I wasn''t going to make it in time to be bathed and changed. Are you the one who chose this outfit?"


    I couldn''t help but chuckle as I shook my head. Such clothing on him was hardly my taste, my mother was the mastermind behind such mature attire on the young man. That was clear by the design, Mother''s favorite flower¡ªCamellias. In a different shade of off-white, they''d been embroidered onto the tunic with delicacy. Each stitch was imbued with a prayer, I was sure.


    "No, Idris, I didn''t choose it¡ªbut whoever did was wise to choose such a color on you." I told him.


    There it was again, the look of insult and confusion. I could never understand why he couldn''t reply with a simple ''thank you'' when it came to compliments. He always had to make it something much larger than it was. After all, the cream color complimented his medium complexion, and his eyes. God, his eyes were such an interesting feature. There was nothing I enjoyed more than seeing how they reflected light, and how easily I could read his emotions through them.


    "You''re so forthright, it''s no wonder boys run from you at parties." He insulted.


    I let out a bellowing laugh as I took his shoulder in my hand and turned him to walk with me down the halls, though his comment stung. He was right, boys wanted girls who stood and blushed at their words¡ªwho weren''t contrarians and capable of thinking past the moment they lived in. I squeezed his shoulder, and let my hand fall to my side as we continued walking. He shot a sidelong glance at me, and I think I let my hurt show for a moment as I saw the ghost of a wince on his face.


    "That one was a little much...sorry...happy birthday, Hala." He said, picking his cuticle as he held his hands near his abdomen.


    As I walked down the halls, into the throne room, the palace seemed fraught with luxury. Extra care had been put into the flowers in the vases, Irises and Violets and Baby''s Breath and Tulips, all meticulously arranged to form beautiful accents to our fine marble halls. The golden veins in the marble shone particularly bright that night as the horns bellowed through the halls. My arrival was announced by Father, and soft clapping could be heard just outside of the throne room. Soft yellow embers of light filled the halls as the doors opened, and I saw the visitors lining the throne room to make way for me. With a perfectly-rehearsed smile, I greeted different noble men and women as I sauntered through to the center of the room, Idris at my side. A particular young man met my gaze with a charming smile, offering a small nod of acknowledgement as he stood beside a man donning green and gold, with an intricate yet modest-looking crown atop his head. I assumed him to be Otlak''s King¡ªTavuk; a spindly man with little authority in his stance. I''d read plenty about the history of Otlak, as our Kingdom was once their jewel mines. It took seven brutal years of war, but we came out victorious. My Grandfather, Al''Qital Namir, disdained war itself despite being larger than Uncle. He made sure that Father held the same morals as he, only resorting to violence when struck first. Tavuk''s Father was the ruler of Otlak at the time, an imprudent man who I never got to meet, nor did I care to meet from what I read about him. But Tavuk''s friend...I''d never seen a man like him. Pale, with strong cheekbones and deep-set eyes of a pure dark brown, matching his hair and eyebrows. The features of Otlakians were always interesting to me; they rarely had humps in their noses, or dark skin. Their eyes were most often blue, though deeper in shade than Idris'', with blonde hair¡ªto see Tavuk''s friend, who looked so different from the King himself, was like seeing an albino stag in the wild.


    I gave a small nod back to the man, returning my gaze to the festivities and meeting with a few girls I''d grown familiar with: Fatiha, Himaya, and Asil. Idris had gone off to speak to Uncle, who had beckoned him over to observe his festive attire. The three girls were half-sisters, daughters of a very well-known tradesman who supplied us our bedding. Each of them looked different from the other; Himaya was the oldest, with medium-olive skin and straight black hair. Her eyes were always so soft, so warm, with their lively shade of brown. Her ovular face was truly enviable, with a youthful glow despite being 19 now. Asil was the youngest, having eyes of hazel and softly coiled hair. Her skin was lighter than Himaya''s, and her features of more prominence. She took after her father, with a squared jawline and pointed chin. She always looked so serious, though she was only 10. Then, there was my beloved Fatiha¡ªmy closest girl friend. Her skin was darker than mine, with tighter coils than her younger sister and eyes of deep, oaken brown. She had a diamond-shaped face, and upturned eyes with her full lips dawning rouge for the first time that I knew of. We were the same age, and she was such a modest, sweet girl that I often found myself holding my tongue in order to spare her feelings. Though she was the most relatable of the three, because of our age, we had many differences in personality. I wrapped my arms around Fatiha, with a genuine smile on my face as I brought her in for a hug.


    "Freznah krodhat, Fatiha, I missed you!" I said as a wrung her like a teddy bear.


    "Kazah...freznah...Hala..." She managed to choke out. I giggled as I let her go, looking at her robe. Red, like her rouge, with opalescent embroidery of different flowers and vines.


    She was beautiful, and the way she carried herself always left me feeling a twinge of admiration. If I could emulate her...


    My thoughts were interrupted by our first horsefly of the night, and I finally realized that Fatiha and I stood alone by the column at the dais. Abandoned by her sisters, she was now defenseless from the overly-excited boys in the room. A young man who was clearly of both Otlakian and Mahsulian descent approached Fatiha and I, his eyes zeroed in on Fatiha. I knew that look all too well, as I''d thwarted it from Fatiha multiple times¡ªrarely, if ever, from myself. It was hungry, predatory, a look that sent my blood from a simmer to a boil the closer it got. His sinewy figure inched closer to us, and Fatiha stood watching all of the other guests, somehow not feeling the boy''s gaze as I did. I crossed my arms and broadened my shoulders, gripping into my biceps with my fingernails as I scowled at the boy. As she chatted idly with me about the status of her father''s wares, I kept my eyes locked on him. Either he didn''t notice me, or didn''t care to, because he continued to advance closer towards us. Another noble girl whose name I''ll never remember approached Fatiha with a cup in both hands, handing her one and taking a sip of her own as I kept my eyes on the boy. Finally, my eyes must have caught his attention¡ªbecause when he met my gaze he froze. I unclenched one of my hands from around my bicep, and offering a less than lady-like gesture to tell him to buzz off. His face fell, before he sighed and turned away. A tenacious one, and one I''d be fending off for the rest of the night, I was expecting.


    I''d have stood keeping watch over Fatiha all night if the sound of party goers clamoring as servants carrying a Chon board into the room hadn''t torn my attention from her. The doors of the throne room swung open as two men carried the game board, and my father, drunk on wine, encouraged Idris to play a game with the man who stood next to Tavuk when I''d first arrived. Father was always a happy drunk, and competitive when entirely inebriated. He held Idris by the shoulders, encouraging him to sit at the board as it was set down just as Tavuk''s friend did. I made my way past the crowd, leaving Fatiha and the other noble girl to investigate the clamor. Pushing through nobles was almost a workout in and of itself, as they stood in a tight pack. A couple of them noticed who exactly was pushing past them, and out of nothing more than obligation let me through; I took a seat next to Idris, watching as the game unfolded.


    "Careful, Shahin. The boy could beat anyone." Father taunted as he took another sip from his gauntlet.


    I rolled my eyes lightly, and leaned in towards Idris.


    "What''s going on?"


    "A game of Chon, obviously." Idris sneered as he observed his pieces. I knew the game at an intermediate level, but Idris really was a master of the game in comparison.


    I looked at a few of the white tiles¡ªseveral pawns, a Captain, a Knight...my eyes landed on an Archduke, and an Imperial Knight that sat on his tile rack.


    "Play those." I whispered.


    Idris made a gesture at me to be quiet as his opponent set the board with the first move, setting out his three tiles. A Pawn, a Queen, and a Knight. I knew that this was a common first move to play, and I watched with dismay as Idris played a Knight and Captain¡ªonly two tiles compared to his opponent''s three. I almost said something, but the look in Idris'' eyes told me that speaking would cause him to lose concentration. The man, who I assumed to be named Shahin, after my father''s comment, made a few more moves. Idris played back, and the game seemed to drone on until the man played his own Archduke. Usually, in a game of Chon, the goal is to take all of your opponent''s pieces. Shahin hadn''t taken any up until this point, littering the board with his pieces in what looked to be random spots until now. Their tiles were set with different strategy, Idris consuming the board in one large chunk; while Shahin took different spots of the board with little cohesion. His pieces seemed erratically placed, but upon setting the Archduke at the edge of Idris'' pieces I almost shot from the seat with shock. Shahin took four of Idris'' pieces, replacing them with Pawns of his own. Idris clicked his tongue, and I shot him a sidelong glance.


    "That wasn''t fair!" I said just quiet enough for Shahin not to hear.


    "It''s how the game''s supposed to be played."


    Idris'' comment made me roll my eyes and look at his opponent, who was already looking at me. His deep-set eyes made me think him to be no younger than 21, with a soft smile playing at his lips. My heart fluttered as I took in his nigh-beautiful features; how his skin reminded me of high-quality parchment paper, and his hair was fuller than my own. Thick eyebrows sat atop his brown eyes, making him all the more attractive. I smiled weakly at him, trying to hide the frustration I felt towards his gameplay. I looked back at the board, as Shahin played once more. The game continued for over an hour at this point, and Shahin had grown a bit sloppy. He played lazily, shucking out Pawns since he no longer had pieces of ''power.'' It wouldn''t be until I heard a single laugh escape Idris'' lips that he finally played the Imperial Knight I''d told him to play at the beginning. He''d held onto it until the perfect moment, and Shahin sat straight up as Idris took five of Shahin''s pieces. The rules allowed him to set another tile down for such an accomplishment. The next tile Idris set down was the Archduke¡ªright next to the Imperial Knight¡ªthus, allowing him to take nine more pieces.


    "That''s one way to play it..." Shahin muttered as he scratched his cheek with his thumb.


    I looked at Idris with a grin, as his blue eyes glimmered with triumph. For taking 18 pieces, he was allowed to set Pawns down one after the other. Idris now dominated the board, his large chunk of tiles swallowing Shahin''s. It would be another hour and a half until Shahin''s final plot of tiles became Idris'' next target¡ªand another 30 minutes of Shahin struggling to fight against Idris'' Pawns until victory came. Once Idris took Shahin''s final tile, the crowd oo''d and ah''d in amazement at the 12 year-old boy who had beat an adult man in a game of Chon. Father whooped loudly, jostling Idris by the shoulders and standing him up to give him a side-hug. He smiled weakly in return, flushing at the compliments thrown his way. Idris'' opponent offered his hand out for a friendly handshake, deeming the game fair and smiling. As my friend took Shahin''s hand, I watched as he fought himself from recoiling away from Shahin''s touch for some reason. He gritted through the discomfort of whatever bothered him, shaking his hand firmly.


    As the night went on, many nobles wished me a happy birthday and gave me hugs. A few young boys even tried their hand at flirting, dismal as it was. The conversations never seemed to last more than three minutes, though, with the longest standing conversationalist losing interest when I offered a funny look at him. The boy sought the company of another girl, one I assumed to be more like Fatiha¡ªdemure and gentle. Half of the party goers had left by this time, the ones who only came for appearances. Still tucked away in the corner of the room, though, were Shahin and Tavuk as I stood by a table with the tradesman''s daughters. The men were speaking with other nobles¡ªShahin carrying the conversation. Women seemed to fancy the man, hanging off of his shoulders whenever they spoke to him. The men around him laughed whenever he laughed, grew stoic whenever he did, and even ate a bite of their finger sandwiches whenever he took one from his. I noticed Idris, standing just in earshot as he looked from Shahin to his own reflection in a vase¡ªcarefully studying his appearance. I could recognize the look in his eyes, one I''d had in my own when looking at Fatiha earlier that night; or any time I looked at her, for that matter. He was critiquing himself, as if he wasn''t already someone worth knowing.


    "Idris!" I called, my voice cutting over the clamor of different nobles.


    Idris whipped his head around as I held a plate of cake, and I waved my hand for him to come over. As he approached, I took my fork and dug it into the slice I''d already eaten more than half of. With a knowing smile, I offered the forkful to his mouth.


    "Try the cake!"


    He looked at me with wide and hesitant eyes, before they darted around the room. He was clearly checking to make sure no one saw him, and it only made my smile grow wider. I wanted to tell him how ridiculous he looked, but the expression he''d worn just moments ago as he observed his reflection kept my words at bay. With Himaya and Fatiha being the only ones watching, Idris took the bite. I knew instantly that he tasted the same thing I had when the icing touched my tongue. Rich hints of vanilla, and sweet icing of cacao danced across his tastebuds just as they had mine, forcing him to smile. The cake was almost intoxicating, a distraction from anything and anyone. As I looked away, over Idris'' shoulder, I made eye contact with that man again...he smiled at me and offered a small wave, and I smiled back. Returning the fork to my plate, I pointed at it and gave him a thumbs up. Shahin nodded with his eyebrows slightly raised, entertained by my actions. I understood why women seemed to linger by him, as I wanted to see that smile more each time it flashed.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    After Fatiha, Himaya, and Asil left with their father; the only ones left in the throne room were Jamila; her family, my family, Idris, Shahin, and Tavuk. Father and Asad were arm wrestling, slamming each others'' arms into the thick oak table as Thueban and his sons watched from the sidelines. I could tell that the Captain was envious of Father and Uncle''s strength, as his brows raised and fell with each thunderous bang of one of their arms. Idris and I stood side by side, watching as well, and I couldn''t contain my laughter as the two continued to face off. Idris watched with horror, flinching with each thwack just like Shahin did, while Tavuk seemed uninterested in such activities.


    "Want to give it a go, young lad?" Asked Father to Shahin.


    His throat bobbed as he swallowed, shaking his head and crossing his arms.


    "I''d rather leave such feats of barbaric strength to those blessed with it, Your Highness." Shahin replied, shrinking as another crack came from the table. Father had just won again, and I cheered at his victory. Father''s laugh echoed through the room as he returned his gaze to Uncle Asad, and their forceps flexed once more to wrestle. Thueban looked at Shahin with distaste, clearly upset by the underhanded insult the Duke had given Father. Something I''d noticed¡ªand Thueban must have as well¡ªwas how Shahin didn''t look at Father. He always focused his eyes just past him, as if he''d be burnt to cinders if they met gazes.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    The party itself was enjoyable, but a looming sense of distress hung over me as I entered my room and climbed the lattice to the roof. I laid down, watching the glimmering stars, and wished upon the first one that I saw to become a wife by my 16th birthday. As silly as it was; as ignorant as it was, the idea of becoming a wife was the only feminine thing I could seek to attain. I was far too gangly to seek out a feminine body¡ªand far too sharp tongued to hope to speak with a feminine mouth. Even my face looked masculine, to me, having inherited Father''s strong features and determined eyes.


    With a long sigh, I fiddled with a shingle on the roof. Father had, indeed, announced that I was of age for suitors at the party¡ªbut no noble or King stepped forth to ask any further. I knew it was because I was too untamed, and I tried to make a promise to myself from that point, onward, to carry myself with grace. I''d feed into the stereotypes of women if I had to in order to marry¡ªin order to better my people and their futures. I could sacrifice an ounce of pride if that was my reward.


    I was surprised to hear someone making their way up the lattice, grunting before their hands met the roof. My body sat up before I could even think about it, and I met eyes with Idris. He was struggling to make it up because of a wrapped box in his right hand. Making my way over to him, I stood on my knees and hoisted him up; which made him come up onto the shingles with a loud thud.


    "Do you have to be so rough?!" He asked, getting to his knees quickly and picking up the box he''d brought with him.


    "I barely used any strength!" I retorted.


    Idris scoffed and ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. I chuckled, and his eyes met mine. His lips became a thin line as he pursed them, before he looked back down at the orange and white wrapping around what I could only assume to be a gift.


    "Here." He said, holding the box out to me.


    I looked at the box with feline curiosity, its gold accents around the orange marigolds shone in the moonlight bringing a smile to my face. Restraining myself from snatching the box from him, I took it in the gentlest way I knew how. Our eyes met again, and he looked at me with his brows slightly furrowed. There was that insulted expression, again. Though, softer than usual.


    "Thank you." I replied.


    I began opening the box, more carefully than I had opened any of my other gifts that night. This gift was special¡ªit was from my best friend. I didn''t want him to think I''d open it with the same ferocity as I''d opened my other gifts that evening. Each rip of the wrapping paper made me all the more excited, until the paper fell to the shingles below us. I opened the box to find a gorgeous comb, plated in gold with a silver camellia on it.


    "You know camellias are my mother''s favorite flower, right?" I asked with my playful smile beaming.


    "Can''t you just say ''thank you''?" He snarked, crossing his arms as he fell to his bum with a huff.


    "I love it, Idris. Thank you." I replied honestly. I gave his a smile that was different than the well-rehearsed smiles I''d given the other gift-givers that night. When he saw it, he looked down to the shingles.


    "Then don''t ever lose it." He snapped. "It took me months of saving my allowance to get that."


    "I won''t." I chuckled, bringing him in for a hug. He tensed up before relaxing, putting his arms around me with a more gentle squeeze than usual following it.


    "You''d better not." He murmured. I laughed in response.

 Chapter 2: Hala

    By the time I¡¯d turned 15, the world seemed to become muted¡ªthe skies weren¡¯t vibrant, and the stars seemed less enchanting. No matter how hard I tried to follow the promise I¡¯d made to myself, I couldn¡¯t hold my tongue when I sat beside Father in the throne room, and made remarks to nobles about how petty their squabbles were more times than I could count. Father chastised me often for speaking so freely, his furrowed brows marred in my mind. Even Mother had discussions with me, trying to help me reign in the words that spilled from my mouth. To top it all off: I¡¯d become the main target of Jamila¡¯s anger at social gatherings, when boys finally mustered up the courage to approach me. The gatherings used to be a way for me to meet the other nobility in the bordering lands, and attempt to befriend them to one day merge the kingdoms by building a lasting relationship and good favor with their people. Idris always joined me, standing dutifully by my side¡ªlooking back, that may have played a role in how often I was approached. I hadn¡¯t filled out entirely, but I was surely more desirable by men¡¯s standards. I could see how their eyes lingered on my face, or how they watched me in contemplation when music for dances began to play. Idris was like a personal guard dog, of sorts¡ªblessed with more height and a bit more meat on his bones at nearly 17 years-old. He had a head and a half of height on me, and his still-wiry figure was probably intimidating to look at. I didn¡¯t mind, though, because he was still the gentle boy I¡¯d known at age 8¨Cwhen I was the one with the height.


    I stood against a wall contemplating which boys were the most attractive as Fatiha faced Idris and I, discussing her new silken robe. She looked marvelous in it, as the jade silk clung to her curves and the waistline hit just the right part of her bodice to accentuate them. Fatiha was a woman now, fully fleshed out and easy on the eyes. I smiled faintly, looking past her as boys ogled her body. With a slight tug on Idris¡¯ sleeve, he met my eyes and looked past my friend. I didn¡¯t have to look to know his gaze had narrowed, as I heard his feet shift to broaden his stance. The sight of the taller boy, closest to the wine table, hunching his shoulders and scratching his nose as he leaned in to whisper to his friend was delightful. The other, more handsome of the two, leaned in to whisper back, and they had a conversation of their own going now. Fatiha continued telling me about her father¡¯s acquisition of the article of clothing obliviously, her kind eyes lit with adoration for the efforts it took him.


    With my worries for Fatiha¡¯s safety contained, I could look her in the eyes once more as we discussed how long it took to make her robe¡ªa whopping two years, as the worms¡¯ silk could only be harvested in early spring. I smiled wider and raised my eyebrows, taking in the buttery feeling of the sleeve she offered out to me, upon my request to feel the garment for myself. Idris sniffed, scratching his own nose and eyeing the sleeve with hidden disgust. I could tell he thought such a thing to be exorbitant when she named the price of the robe, even my own lips parted in amazement. Mid-conversation, Himaya showed up to lead Fatiha over towards another group of nobles to socialize with, offering me a greeting before gracefully disappearing with her sister. Alone with Idris, I sighed as I watched the boys from before move towards Fatiha and her sister.


    ¡°Do you think I¡¯ll ever get married?¡± I asked Idris, watching the boys weasel their way into conversation with the sisters. He bristled at my question, shrugging his shoulders up as he replied.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you will, Princess.¡± I looked at him with annoyance, though I knew he only used my title in public settings. It always bothered me, how he said it.


    ¡°Then why don¡¯t the boys approach me the same way they approach Fati?¡± I asked, my voice giving away my hurt. Idris looked at me with pity, his stomach clearly in a knot.


    ¡°Because they¡¯re stupid.¡± He replied in a low voice.


    I looked up to my left again, meeting Idris¡¯ gaze and studying his eyes. Ever the same, they drew me in. A weak smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as I watched his familiar features. He always returned my looks with such doting expressions when he wasn¡¯t bantering with me.


    As if on cue, a snarky laugh echoed through the viewing room of the Alwathis¡¯ villa. I tore my eyes from Idris, my mood dampening once more, as I eyed Jamila cackling with a boy. His friend, not too far from him, seemed to have a gaze that lingered on me. Another bristle from Idris. I offered a polite, well-rehearsed smile, and he looked from me to my chaperone. He seemed to steel his resolve as he approached. No longer was Jamila laughing, her eyes were steadied on me and a scowl replaced her wicked smile. The young man, just as tall as Idris, had tawny skin the same shade as mine and eyes of hazel. His curls were tightly coiled, styled to fall back from his face, with a square jawline and broad shoulders. Though still lanky, he had potential to be very handsome. Fine rings sat on his fingers, their jewels glimmering with the light as he walked up to Idris and I.


    ¡°Al¡¯Hala.¡± The boy said, offering a deep bow. I kept my smile, trying not to mind the scoff that came from Idris. As his eyes fell on my friend once more, his shoulder stiffened a bit.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe I know your name.¡± I said to him.


    ¡°Murabiy, Your Highness.¡± He replied, a small smile pulling at his lips as his gaze returned to mine.


    I was enchanted by the man, and my smile came more naturally as we spoke. For once, a boy was able to talk to me for more than three minutes. For once, a boy actually handled my remarks with tact. My humor¡ªFather¡¯s humor¡ªmade him laugh, and his eyes shone with similar vibrance as mine. Even with Idris beside me, Murabiy held his ground. He¡¯d throw in an occasional compliment here and there, making my cheeks grow hot or bring a laugh from my lips. Idris was crossing his arms now, surveying the room as if he were a wolf surveying his territory. The men¡¯s eyes would meet occasionally, Murabiy holding his own despite Idris¡¯ scrappy demeanor.


    I was lost in conversation long enough to not notice we¡¯d gained a new member: Jamila.


    ¡°Princess.¡± Jamila said, her voice laced with false kindness. ¡°A pleasure to see you outside of the sparring grounds.¡±


    Her words seemed genuine, but I thought knew the tactics she used by now. She¡¯d always try to paint me as some kind of brute, a wild animal to be tamed by whichever boy had finally worked up the guts to speak to me. Anything she could do to make a possible suitor run with their tails between their legs, she wasn¡¯t beneath doing it. Ever since I stopped her brothers from picking on Idris, she¡¯d made it her personal goal to make me the source of her entertainment.


    ¡°A pleasure to see you outside of the study, Jamila.¡± I replied, my own words came out sickly-sweet.


    ¡°Have you been teaching your lapdog any new tricks?¡± She asked, looking over to Idris.


    A problem.


    I couldn¡¯t distinguish the look on her face: something similar to a child eyeing a toy they wanted in a shoppe, perhaps. Her words were nothing short of insulting, though her face betrayed that. I¡¯d never understood her.


    ¡°I find it petulant to reduce my subjects to an animal¡¯s likeness, Jamila.¡± I warned, keeping my diplomatic smile.


    ¡°And I find it pathetic that you¡¯ve kept such a thing around for so long¡­found in his own soil, you¡¯ve really cleaned him up, you know.¡±


    I could feel Idris growing more annoyed by the young woman¡¯s words, and Murabiy becoming more confused by the conversation¡¯s direction. While Idris kept his eyes locked on Jamila with vitriol, Murabiy scanned my face. I beckoned him to stay with my eyes, wishing I could reassure him that it would all be over soon¡ªbut I had bigger fish to fry.


    ¡°Ever the elitist, aren¡¯t you?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Hardly. I just find it disheartening to see that the Royal Family continues to wed those of lowly-birth.¡± Jamila spat.


    Oh no. Oh no, oh no.


    I looked at Murabiy. His eyes had filled with an even deeper sense of confusion and concern from Jamila¡¯s words. I almost spoke to him, but Idris let out a scoff as if he was going to speak up on my behalf.


    He¡¯s not my husband. He¡¯s not my husband. I tried to convince him with my eyes.


    I leaned towards Jamila, taking her forearm gently in my hand and smiling sweetly.


    ¡°I find it revolting that you always show up whenever I¡¯m with company, Themaz. Don¡¯t you know better than to interrupt royalty when they¡¯re speaking?¡± I asked, keeping my tone level though with an undercurrent of scorn. Maybe tit-for-tat elitism would work.


    At that point, Murabiy had taken a few steps back. He¡¯d gotten the wrong idea, and Jamila had already won. He was disinterested, now, and I wouldn¡¯t be able to get a single suitor with her around. I almost dragged her out of the viewing room and spat on her. She looked at me, daring me to do more than kindly threaten her¡ªand how I wanted to. But I had a reputation to upkeep, not just my own; my family¡¯s. I released her forearm, imagining Father¡¯s scorn if he heard I¡¯d done something to Jamila again, and looked back at her. The diplomatic smile I wore wiped from my face in an instant after Murabiy turned around and returned to his friend.


    My hand tightened a bit around her forearm as I spoke, ¡°You¡¯re truly a nuisance.¡± I hissed, forcing myself to release her arm in an act of mercy.


    ¡°The feeling is mutual, Your Highness.¡±


    She looked at Idris in a way I couldn¡¯t describe at the time¡ªbut looking back, it was territorially. She saw Idris as nothing more than a toy, an object for the taking, and in my confused state of rage, I brooded silently as she walked away. What angered me more than her insinuation of me being wedded to Idris was the way she hurled insults at him. I cursed her under my breath, and looked to my friend concernedly. He stood tall, with his chin high¡ªbut his eyes. His eyes showed the hurt he felt from Jamila¡¯s words, like someone had stabbed him in the chest.


    I tugged his sleeve, and walked towards the exit of the viewing room. I heard his footsteps following behind me, pausing only once before quickening and coming to my side. Idris opened the large birch door leading outside, and I felt the late-fall¡¯s breeze nip at my cheeks. With a sigh, I looked at Idris as the door closed behind him. He looked at me, his eyes still filled with the same hurt, and I began walking towards the Alwathi¡¯s garden. He followed, joining me on a secluded bench by a small patch of irises. The flowers always looked so weak, so pathetic to me¡ªbut I empathized with their appearance in that moment. Just like their drooping petals, I was weak and pathetic in my ability to stave off that wicked bitch.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Idris.¡± I murmured. I couldn¡¯t tear my eyes from the irises before me. ¡°She always says such horrible things about you¡­¡±


    Idris loosened a shaky breath, leaning forward on his knees as he looked at me.


    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault that she¡¯s as imprudent as they come. She¡¯ll face consequences for her ways soon enough. I¡¯m sorry that my presence prevented you from getting to know that¡­guy.¡± His voice turned from playful to bitter as he spoke, and he brought his hand to his mouth to rub it after he spoke.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t to blame¡­¡± I replied.


    Jamila was to blame. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Jamila was the one who kept ruining my opportunities to meet suitors.


    Every social event I was invited to, she was sure to show up at. I hated it more than anything. Finally, I tore my eyes from the flowers and looked at him. I saw the disdain in his eyes, and it was all internalized anger. He trulyfelt responsible for what had just happened, and I felt my temper getting the better of me.


    ¡°Stop.¡± I chided him, my voice low and threatening. ¡°You¡¯re being too self-centered. Stop blaming yourself.¡±


    He looked at me with a pained smile, nodding his head as he took his hand from his mouth. His eyes found the sky, watching as the clouds passed.


    ¡°I suppose I am¡­¡± he said softly. I was irate at that point.


    Irate at Jamila. Irate at my inability to act.


    Irate at the way I had to keep calm; keep modest, to prevent Father from chastising me again. Deep down, I was irate with myself. The last time something like this happened, I told Jamila she looked like a cow in her gown. Of course, I got punished by having to help Uncle put his armor on for three weeks.


    My arms burned at the thought of having to do it again, and I sighed.


    ¡°You¡¯re too harsh on yourself, Idris. You¡¯re essentially a noble now, you mustn¡¯t let how we met dictate how you see yourself.¡± I explained. Idris leaned into the back of the bench with an annoyed huff, I¡¯d struck a nerve.


    ¡°You can¡¯t say things like that.¡± He retorted, his eyes seeming to grow more hate-filled. ¡°I¡¯m no noble, and if I hadn¡¯t met you¡­¡± he almost shuddered at the thought, and I did as well. I sighed, and tightened the shawl I wore around my shoulders as I leaned forward on my own knees.


    We sat in silence for a long time after that, until the nobles started walking out of the villa and giving their goodbyes. I watched them, wishing I could have said farewell and hugged the young man I¡¯d spoken to earlier. He was hand-in-hand with one of Fatiha¡¯s friends, now, leading her towards the other end of the garden. I stood from the bench, folding my arms and hugging myself tightly.


    Loneliness whispered in my ear once more: you¡¯ll never be a bride, at this rate.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    I had grown tired of waiting for an opportunity to speak to men at social events, only to have Jamila ruin any chance I had the moment they arose. I was halfway through the Northern wall, wearing a commoner¡¯s robe and head scarf to better disguise myself¡ªa rumor of a brothel opening had taken the palace by storm, and I was intrigued. I had grown smarter after reading different novels, dawning a disguise to hide my social status and appearance. In an attempt to find a surefire way to acquire a suitor, I inched out of the wall¡¯s crevice; it was much tighter than when I was a child, and I thanked God that I hadn¡¯t filled out like Fatiha yet as I made it through to the other side. I descended the hill that the palace sat atop, shrinking my shoulders, and made my way into town.


    The beginning of winter was always a busy time, as farmers sold off the last of fall¡¯s harvests and merchants tried to make dhebals off of tourists. Rich Northerners sought warmth in Mahsul, as it never snowed down here like it did in Otlak. The bustle of townsfolk created perfect cover for me from the guards that sat lining each block, not seeming to take notice of the too-clean girl scurrying along the streets. It didn¡¯t take much time to track down the brothel, as I watched countless men duck into a particular alleyway.


    I walked down it, taking notice of a newly placed pink and yellow sign: ¡®Madam Tayir¡¯s.¡¯ With a deep breath, I opened the door. The outside of the building was deceiving, as I¡¯d have amounted it to no more than a shack with a living space above it at first glance. I was entirely wrong, as high ceilings with skylights were decorated with brightly colored scarves. The sound of stringed instruments and women singing filled the air, as the fires on both sides of the building took the edge off of the cold that had begun to numb my finger tips. At the entrance was a standing desk, and to its left was another part of the brothel that was hidden behind a curtain. Behind that desk, though, came a voice that distracted me from the women laughing beside a potted plant.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re supposed to be here, young Lady.¡± Rang an androgynous voice. I whipped my head around, meeting its origin: a tall woman with emerald eyes. Her dark brown hair and medium complexion was a stark contrast to her eyes, with thick brows sitting atop them.


    ¡°Are you Madam Tayir?¡± I asked. The woman smiled a bit, and shook her head.


    ¡°Tayir is busy. What brings you to this establishment?¡± She asked.


    I steeled my resolve, tugging at the headscarf around my hair to better see the woman before me.


    ¡°I¡¯m here to learn how to find a husband.¡± I said shortly.


    She chuckled in response, fanning her face with her hand before placing it to her chest to quell her laughter.


    ¡°Oh, darling,¡± she began, steadying her eyes on me. ¡°None of us here are wedded¡ªmatter of fact, we deal with men whose beds are not empty at night. They find no entertainment in the women they lay beside.¡±


    I blinked, trying to make sense of her words.


    ¡°Find no entertainment?¡± I echoed. The woman nodded and smiled, her eyes still searing into me.


    ¡°Indeed, and your lack of comprehension tells me all I need to know. Begone.¡± She said, shooing me away with the hand that sat atop her flat chest. As I opened my mouth to reply, a woman in teal walked out from behind the curtain to my left. She flittered towards the woman with emerald eyes, meeting my gaze for a split second.


    ¡°Habun, what¡¯s going on out here?¡± She sang, her voice sweet and melodic.


    ¡°Nothing. I¡¯ve got it under control, Tayir. She was on her way out.¡± The emerald-eyed woman replied.


    Tayir looked at Habun with a soft smile before looking over to me curiously. My mouth, still agape, began moving before I had the chance to stop it.


    ¡°Wait, please¡­!¡± I pleaded. ¡°Madam Tayir, I need help finding a husband¡­I have no other option.¡±


    Tayir¡¯s eyes filled with pity as she looked at me, and her head tilted slightly. She flickered her eyes to Habun, whose emerald gaze still burned into me.


    ¡°Habun¡­¡± Tayir hummed. ¡°How could you turn down such a pretty, innocent little girl?¡± She asked.


    ¡°Tayir, she has no concept of what this place is¡ª¡± Habun¡¯s rebuttal fell upon deaf ears as Tayir walked out from behind the desk, cupping my shoulders with large and gentle hands. She guided me towards Habun, and I looked up at her. The teal-clad woman¡¯s face was akin to a begging puppy, looking to her business partner woefully.


    ¡°We¡¯re her only option.¡± She pouted. Habun sucked her teeth and shook her head, rolling her eyes as she crossed her arms.


    ¡°Fine.¡± She spat.


    Tayir smiled down at me, taking me behind the desk and towards the curtained room. I watched a man as he walked out of another room, across from where I was headed, fiddling with his belt and putting it through the proper notch. I was confused by the sight once a woman followed shortly after, wiping smudged lipstick from her bottom lip. Tayir seemed unphased, and opened the curtain; in the room sat a small table of four women. The brothel¡¯s breadwinners. I was too young to know anything about brothels at the time, and thought them to be nothing more than residents of the establishment. One woman in gold, another in red, one in pink, and one in orange. All playing a game of cards as Tayir announced my arrival.


    ¡°Ladies¡­¡± Tayir called. ¡°I have a pupil for us!¡±


    The women at the table all looked from their cards, half of them wore expressions of amusement, and half of them seemed put off by the notion. The woman in gold lowered her cards, leaning on the elbow holding them as it rested on the table. She had a deeper voice, but a feline-like appearance. Her amber eyes matched her garb, and she looked at Tayir with hesitancy.


    ¡°Tayir.¡± She said. ¡°We can¡¯t take in a girl like her¡ªespecially not one of her appearance.¡±


    Tayir beguiled the woman, offering the same expression she¡¯d offered Habun just moments ago. I almost spoke up, but Tayir beat me to it.


    ¡°Please, ladies. She¡¯s desperate! She¡¯s of marrying age, and wants to learn the art of courting¡­look at her.¡± She whined.


    I was beyond insulted by being labeled as desperate, but I hid it by pursing my lips and looking down to the ground. My fists clenched by my side¡ªthe daughter of Al¡¯Namir, called desperate. While I tried to steady my breathing at the notion, I heard one of the women let out a soft gasp. Another voice brought me back to reality, interrogating me¡ªor rather, Tayir.


    ¡°Does she know how to cook?¡± The woman in orange asked.


    I let out a scoff, picking my eyes up from the floor and meeting her gaze with my own.


    ¡°I can cook any dish in the Seven Kingdoms.¡± My voice was a bit harsher than I¡¯d meant it to be, but it was true. My homemaking skills were polished beyond perfection.


    ¡°Then you must be daft at cleaning. Fadiy, get the broom. We¡¯ll teach her to¡ª¡±


    ¡°My cleaning is just fine,¡± I said cutting off Tayir, becoming more defensive as they fussed around me. The woman in orange froze in place, just as she was about to get the broom Tayir had beckoned her to get. She crossed her arms, looking at me with dismay.


    ¡°Do you know how to sew?¡± Asked the woman in pink. Her robe had been poorly altered, with strips of a different hue of pink added onto it for length.


    To an unrefined eye, it was passable at best¡ªbut I¡¯d been trained by royal seamstresses. Feeling my annoyance grow stronger by the questions being asked, I shot the woman a glare.


    ¡°I know your robe is poorly tailored.¡± I spat.


    The woman in pink looked at me with upset, bringing her sleeve to her face and examining the additional fabric and the hem she¡¯d most likely sewn herself. Tayir let out a breath¡ªa laugh, and spoke up.


    ¡°She¡¯s not wrong, Busis.¡±


    Busis¡¯ eyes moved from the sleeve, to me, and then finally to Tayir as her face grew hot with embarrassment. I felt vindicated by Tayir¡¯s affirmation, thankful that she knew poor alterations when she saw them. Busis, the woman in pink, leaned towards the woman in red.


    ¡°She looks to be of high status, Taghrid.¡± She murmured.


    My blood ran cold for a moment.


    What if they knew? What if they had a sixth sense?


    I feared word getting out for a moment, rumors of Al¡¯Namir¡¯s daughter spending time in a brothel to learn the art of courting a man.


    Taghrid, the woman in red, nodded at Busis¡¯ words.


    ¡°Maybe some coal around the eyes?¡±


    Busis nodded, and murmured something about gold being a nice shade for my eyelids, and Taghrid pointed out my flat chest. Growing more suffocated by the women as they tore me apart, I spoke up once more.


    ¡°Men don¡¯t like that I¡¯m loud, and there¡¯s a girl who keeps thwarting my attempts to engage with a suitor when one brave enough to handle me approaches.¡± I explained.


    Taghrid seemed to grow stiff, and Tayir tightened her grasp on my shoulders with my words. Something about what I¡¯d said seemed to upset them more than it upset me, and I watched them with wary eyes as Tayir spoke firmly to me.


    ¡°Never apologize for being loud, Dear. The girl in question is jealous of you.¡± Tayir said authoritatively.


    ¡°Each time my Father asks a man if they¡¯d take my hand, they say I¡¯m ¡®too much¡¯ to deal with.¡± I replied, my shoulders going a bit limp beneath Tayir¡¯s talon-like grasp.


    Taghrid stood from the table, and came inches away from me.


    ¡°And never apologize for being a handful, either.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but feel small in comparison to the two women, looking at Taghrid¡¯s makeup and noticing the way it caked into the pores of her chin. Her blush was bright, and her lips matched her robe; while her brows were meticulously plucked. They were thin, but I could tell by the small hairs growing back that they were naturally luscious. She seemed to try to emulate the makeup styles of the North, similar to Otlakian women¡¯s thin brows and heavy blush.


    ¡°If a man cannot handle you, then you¡¯d be best suited to wait for a man who is mature to come around.¡± She added, drawing back. Her voice sounded firm, but I could hear remorse lacing her words. Taghrid was speaking from experience, a pained place of understanding.


    ¡°How will I know when that happens?¡± I asked.


    ¡°When you look in his eyes and see nothing but adoration, Darling, that is when you know he¡¯s a man of good-faith.¡± Tayir said. ¡°He will bring you peace on the darkest of nights, and desire to fight all of your battles in your stead. Similarly to how you feel when the haze of warmth slips you off to sleep, he¡¯ll bring you such peace.¡±


    I took her words to heart. I¡¯d never forget them, etching them into my mind and repeating them to myself silently. With a nod, Tayir smiled as she studied my features. Unclenching my shoulders, she stood before me now. Her hand met her hip, and she stuck her hip out fluidly in an alluring pose.


    ¡°Until that day comes, your best bet of finding him will be with your body. Come, do as I do. You have potential.¡± Tayir beckoned.


    I tried to emulate her stance, feeling awkward and gangly in comparison to the graceful woman in front of me. I looked at her with a hint of distress, and the women at the table she stood in front of chuckled or watched me with a smile. We tried for hours until I managed to mimic Tayir perfectly. Once they were happy with my poses, they tested different shades of makeup on me until coming to agree upon which shadows and blushes suited my complexion best. After wiping it all off, they sent me home with my pockets as full as they could manage with spare tubes and pans of all varieties. I left that day not only with full pockets, but a full heart.

 Chapter 3: Idris

    Al¡¯Namir and I sat adjacent to each other in the throne room, playing a game of Chon as Asad watched over my shoulder. Ever since my encounter with Jamila at the Alwathi¡¯s villa, I didn¡¯t want to go near Hala. It had almost been a month straight of narrowly avoiding her, and every time she thought she saw me she¡¯d call out incessantly. I was lucky to have a hiding spot close by on several occasions as she followed after me. Namir had finally managed to pry the experience out of me during the game, having grown concerned as to why her daughter was forced to be escorted by Asad everywhere.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous, Idris.¡± Namir scoffed. ¡°You worked your way towards going to such events, proving yourself to be a dependable guardian of Hala¡¯s. She was right¡ªyou¡¯re just as much a noble as they are. Better, even¡ªyou¡¯re the guard of royalty.¡±


    I bristled at his words, finding them far too kind for a boy of my status. Jamila was right¡ªI was nothing more than a peasant boy who had been taken on as a charity case by the Royal Family. My face must have given away my thoughts, because Namir spoke once more with a tone I had only heard directed at disobedient Courts-men.


    ¡°If you think so poorly of yourself: how do you view my wife, then?¡±


    My blood ran cold, and my eyes met Al¡¯Namir¡¯s. The green in them seemed fiery, daring me to speak ill of the Queen in his presence. I felt in no way comparable to Al¡¯Haya, as it was Al¡¯Namir who sought her out while she worked at a farm owned by a noble family in the Northeast. I was the one who sought Hala out, asking to come visit her in the palace. Had I not mentioned it, I most likely would have been forgotten by the Princess forever.


    ¡°Al¡¯Haya is royalty, Your Highness. In no way are we similar.¡±


    ¡°I disagree, Skwayar.¡± Namir insisted. ¡°She used to pout similarly to how you do now, and confided in my father that she was undeserving of her title as my betrothed.¡±


    ¡°I am not a part of the Royal Family, Your Highness.¡± I replied as I set a King down on the board and took three of Namir¡¯s tiles.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you?¡± He asked, shifting in his seat and placing down an Archduke¡ªfive tiles gone, and an Imperial Knight was sat down beside the Archduke. 18 of my pieces gone, as soon as I¡¯d placed them.


    I wanted to tell him ¡®no.¡¯ But Namir would never admit that I wasn¡¯t kin to him. I appreciated all that he and his wife had done for me, as they treated me like a son, but I felt that God had misguidedly bestowed me fortune, instead of giving it to someone much more deserving than I. I¡¯d never admit, though, that I felt such a way. I touched my cheek, thinking about where to place the next tile in my hand as I thought about it all. Just as I¡¯d found a good place for my tile, my train of thought was broken. The sound of the throne room¡¯s doors hitting the wall echoed through the room, and I furrowed my brows as I looked to the doorway. An enraged Thueban stood at the entry with the Second-In-Command of the Sixth Battalion¡¯s arm slung around his shoulders. He dragged the man into the throne room, letting him fall to the ground and splaying his hands out to show off the man¡¯s condition.


    ¡°My God¡­¡± Namir muttered as he stood from the Chon board. ¡°What happened? Who did this?¡± He asked, taking four long strides towards Hamza.


    ¡°Tavuk¡¯s lapdog.¡± Thueban chuffed, his face contorted with disdain.


    ¡°Thueban.¡± Namir repeated, locking eyes with the Captain. ¡°We have little time for petty names. Who was responsible for this?!¡±


    I was alarmed by Namir¡¯s voice when he was like this. The bass of it boomed through the room and rattled the ground. I¡¯d only ever seen him in such a state of alarm once, when Hala had been injured after falling off of a horse when riding with Asad. Thueban was lucky to not be kin in that moment, because when it was Asad on the receiving end of such a cadence; he was met with a fist to the gut. Pushing the memory out of my mind, I looked at Hamza and his pained expression. I¡¯d never seen him so weak, and lacking vigor. A stab wound sat just above his liver, bleeding profusely.


    ¡°Shahin, you brute!¡± Thueban barked. ¡°Who do you think?!¡±


    Double lucky to not be kin. Namir would have pummeled Thueban to the ground, if so. Instead, the King clenched his fists by his sides and gritted his jaw as he took in the sight of blood staining his favorite carpet. His words jarred me, coming out as a growl rather than his usual speaking voice.


    ¡°Do you realize what you¡¯re saying?¡± He asked. ¡°You¡¯d better have a good story to back this up.¡±


    The King looked over to me, and I knew immediately what to do. He was telling me to fetch medical aid for Hamza, and I left in two breath¡¯s time. I rushed through the halls, hearing Thueban begin to explain what happened to the Second-in-Command even from a distance away, trying not to burst into a full sprint to the infirmary. I didn¡¯t want to alarm the other residents of the palace, despite the trail of blood leading to the throne room. It would take me no more than two minutes to get to the closest infirmary, and fetch a doctor. Another two minutes to return with him in tow. He could tell something was wrong, seeing me worried for the first time. He walked swiftly despite his age, falling into step beside me as we made our way through the halls with an air of urgency. Upon entry the doctor quickly went to work, checking Hamza¡¯s wound for signs of infection and cutting away his shirt. By the time the doctor was observing the swollen laceration, Thueban was wrapping up the recount of the events leading up to Hamza¡¯s injury.


    ¡°You should have seen his face when I told him he wasn¡¯t allowed back into the Kingdom, Namir.¡± He said, a small smile playing at his lips.


    ¡°You what?¡±


    Namir¡¯s arms folded across his chest, and he shifted on his feet as he towered over the Captain. Thueban grew a bit nervous, but his eyes remained steady on His Highness.


    ¡°I told him he wasn¡¯t getting shit else from us! You really expect to let him back into the Kingdom after this?!¡±


    Triple the luck of Thueban not being kin. Namir stalked in a circle around the man, fighting off his rage as he tightened his jaw.


    ¡°Do you realize what you may have just done, Thueban?¡± He almost hissed the Captain¡¯s name, as his heavy boots hit the marble flooring. ¡°Or are you that DAFT?!¡± He yelled, a shudder skittered down my spine. I even saw Asad lose his stoic expression for a moment, walking up to Namir and grabbing his shoulder. He placed his free hand on Thueban¡¯s¡ªa bridge between the men.


    ¡°It was a prank, Thueban. A prank that ended horribly, don¡¯t you recall doing something similar to one of Otlak¡¯s own in your youth? He was probably drunk, and thought it funny to send his soldier towards your men. How was he to know such a comment would elicit violence?¡± Asad asked Thueban, looking from his brother to the Captain. Namir¡¯s hackles were still raised, though, as his quick breaths slowed ever so slightly.


    I kept my distance, watching the men as Asad deescalated the conflict.


    ¡°The boy clearly knew what he was doing! His antics have gone on long enough¡ªfirst, the land disputes in the north; now this?!¡± Thueban argued, looking exasperatedly at Namir. Confusion must have lined my face, as Asad looked at me and shook his head. A topic I was still too young to know about, it seemed.


    His Highness put his hands out between he and the Captain, shrugging off Asad¡¯s hand as he spoke next.


    ¡°We have no proof, Thueban! Don¡¯t you see?!¡± Namir said, his anger subsided slightly. He was still loud, but at least he wasn¡¯t shouting. ¡°The boy has no track record! We cannot go issuing blame like this so fast¡ªand barring him entry to our land?! This could cause tensions¡ªwar!¡±


    ¡°Your Highness, land disputes can cause tension. Killing my MEN can cause war!¡± Thueban argued. His voice always grew hoarse when he yelled, and I could tell his own anger was teetering on the edge. I steeled my resolve, loosening a breath and speaking up.


    ¡°Al¡¯Namir.¡± I beckoned gently. All three of the men paused to look at me, almost shocked to hear my voice enter the conversation.


    ¡°Do you remember when I was tasked with guard duty a couple of months ago¡ªand Hadiy was bringing you that paperwork?¡±


    Asad nodded, and Namir bristled against my words. His eyes urged me to tell my story succinctly, and not to drag on. Thueban, on the other hand, watched me speak with a glimmer in his eyes.


    I looked to the ground, then back to the men. ¡°The young noble who had been pestering him for weeks picked on him again, and I did nothing to stop him. Hadiy went flying to the ground after the noble pushed him, and those documents went flying into the mud close by. Asad, you punished me for my inaction by forcing me to help you put your armor on for a month.¡±


    Namir nodded once, his hackles lowering substantially. I had done it¡ªI had quelled the beast. Thanking my lucky stars, I heard Thueban speak again with feline-like eyes.


    ¡°Such actions cannot go unpunished.¡±


    ¡°Fine, then.¡± Namir said, sighing heavily and meeting Thueban¡¯s gaze once more.


    ¡°I will see to it that Shahin dismisses the soldier who started this¡ªbut he is still allowed into the Kingdom, Thueban.¡±


    Thueban¡¯s eyes widened with disbelief.


    ¡°That¡¯s it?!¡± He asked. ¡°That¡¯s all he gets: a slap on the wrist?!¡±


    I¡¯d lost count of how many times to multiply Thueban¡¯s luck for not being kin to Al¡¯Namir at that point. If Asad were in his position, saying what Thueban dared say, he¡¯d be dead on the ground by now. If I were the one saying such things¡ªa shiver struck my spine once more at the thought.


    ¡°Yes, Thueban. That¡¯s what will happen. You have no say in such a matter, you have too close of proximity to the issue to weigh in.¡± Namir seethed. His voice was quiet, now, but he still seemed like he could wring Thueban¡¯s neck in a heartbeat. I could only imagine how hot his breath must have been as it hit Thueban¡¯s face, but the Captain didn¡¯t so much as flinch as His Highness all but spat in his face. I understood in that moment what it took to be the leader of the Sixth Battalion.


    With a frustrated huff, Thueban opened his mouth again to speak. He was cut off by Namir, whose voice had become gentler¡ªthough not by much. ¡°I understand, Captain. Your wife¡¯s family lives in the land to the North, touching the borders. But you¡¯re blaming a 23 year-old for a conflict that¡¯s lasted longer than he¡¯s been alive!¡±


    Thueban finally seemed to back down a bit, accepting his defeat. I shot the Captain a glance, urging him to keep his mouth shut. It was in that brief moment of silence that the doctor finally spoke up. ¡°Your Highness, he¡¯ll live. His family must take great care in changing his dressings, though. Infection has already started.¡±


    Thueban looked at the doctor with shock. ¡°He has no family. Is he to change the wounds himself?¡± He asked.


    ¡°I can take him to the infirmary, but with the majority of our nurses in Zarvan right now, I cannot guarantee he¡¯ll make it.¡± The doctor said with a grimace.


    I felt my chest grow tight, looking over at Hamza¡¯s pale face. He didn¡¯t seem as pain-ridden, now that the bandaging held the wound in place. Thueban nodded, and gently lifted Hamza up around his shoulders. The doctor guided him out of the throne room, and Thueban looked at Namir one last time with scorn. I didn¡¯t know that would be the last time I saw Hamza before he died from infection.


    Namir and I finished our game of Chon as the sun began to set, hardly speaking as we played. We never got back to our discussion from earlier, and I wasn¡¯t about to trudge it up. He won, and I didn¡¯t take the loss too seriously, finding it hard to concentrate with Hamza¡¯s face marred in my mind. As I left the throne room, I took one last look at the carpet where Thueban let him bleed. I couldn¡¯t help but wince at the sight. The door to the throne room closed behind me with a gentle click, and I made my way down the halls. A few doors from my room was Hala¡¯s, and the idea of seeing her both comforted and terrified me. I felt my stomach tie in knots as I heard her humming, but I knew that if I didn¡¯t check on her soon that I¡¯d end up falling victim to Namir¡¯s rage next. I knocked thrice on the door, and heard the humming stop.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Hala¡¯s voice was more strained than usual as she called from the other side of the door.


    ¡°One moment!¡± She replied. A smile grew on my face, knowing she was up to no good. Opening the door, I slinked in and watched as Hala looked at me with mortification.


    ¡°Princess?¡± I asked, making sure my voice matched the expression I wore.


    There she was, her eyes more akin to a lemur than a girl as black paint circled them and golden powder sat on her lids. I couldn¡¯t help but laugh, closing the door behind me and leaning into it.


    ¡°Heaven¡¯s sake, Idris!¡± She snarled.


    I laughed while cringing.


    ¡°I could have been changing!¡±


    I felt my smile grow wider as I fully entered the room, and she doused a small rag in a mystery solution, rubbing her face furiously to remove the makeup. A few strides brought me to the vanity she sat at, and I picked up a small pan of pink opalescent powder. I swiped into it, rubbing it between my thumb and forefinger. ¡°You¡¯ve never said ¡®one moment¡¯ while you were changing in your entire life.¡±


    ¡°And what have I told you about calling me that in private?!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s habit, Hala.¡± I said softly as I applied the powder to my wrist and sniffed it. No poison. At least as far as I could smell. I licked it as I looked at her again, letting out another breath of laughter at her streaked face. I couldn¡¯t help but relish in her annoyance.


    ¡°You¡¯re the worst!¡± She groaned.


    I watched her rub her eyes again with the rag, wondering how on earth she¡¯d managed to get such powders without a chaperone to guide her to any shops that day. It dawned on me, then, that she¡¯d probably snuck out and gotten into something.


    ¡°Where have you been, anyways?¡± Hala asked, ripping me from my train of thought.


    I took the rag from her, wiping my fingers and wrist with the solution, noticing the oily sheen is left on my skin. When I looked back at her, I noticed a similar sheen to her face. Her delicate yet defined features almost made my knees buckle despite the bitter expression in her eyes.


    ¡°Around.¡± I said shortly. ¡°Where have you been today?¡±


    ¡°None of your business, louse!¡± She insulted.


    A genuine smile pulled at my lips, now, knowing I¡¯d already gotten under her skin enough to elicit insults. ¡°What¡¯s all of this stuff, then, hm?¡± I asked with feline-curiosity, leaning into the vanity as I bent in towards her ever so slightly. Hala¡¯s cheeks grew hotter, as a dusty pink pulled through them. ¡°Is it none of my business?¡± I mocked.


    ¡°No. It isn¡¯t.¡± She snapped.


    I couldn¡¯t help but feel my heart flutter from her attempt to argue. I stared at her, watching her silently until she groaned out once more.


    ¡°You truly are the worst!¡±


    ¡°If you wear any of that to a social gathering, Jamila will have more to say about you than she will about me.¡± I teased. She became furious, snatching the rag out from under my hand on the vanity and rubbed her face ferociously once more, trying to get what I could only assume to be coal off of her face. She cursed at me under her breath, and I just watched quietly until she stopped. Once the rag moved from her eyes, I fought my lips from smiling even wider. She was beautiful, painstakingly so, as the amber light from the sunset illuminated her eyes. The shadows of her face, the look of her hair¡ªeven with the leftover makeup staining her skin, I wanted to etch those features into my mind for eternity. I cleared my throat to rid myself of such a thought, leaning down a bit more before trying again to uncover her whereabouts.


    ¡°So.¡± I began. ¡°Where were you this afternoon?¡±


    ¡°Shopping.¡±


    ¡°With who?¡±


    I watched her look around as she always did when she lied; down, left, right, and left again.


    ¡°Hamza.¡± It took everything in me not to burst into laughter, knowing Hamza was holed up in the infirmary of the East Wing. Another inch closer.


    ¡°That¡¯s not true, Hala.¡± I said keenly.


    ¡°Yes it is! I wouldn¡¯t lie about that!¡± She desperately tried covering her hide, but I was onto her. ¡°No it isn¡¯t. Hamza is in the infirmary right now after a scuffle.¡± Her face fell with astonishment.


    ¡°Where were you?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Who did Hamza get into a fight with?¡± Hala asked, nearly a whisper. I knew what she was doing¡ªa trade. If I told her details of what had happened, she¡¯d tell me where she was; but neither of us were allowed to rat the other out.


    ¡°One of Shahin¡¯s men.¡± I said simply.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    I smiled expectantly at her, leaning another inch closer to her. ¡°That¡¯s none of your concern.¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡± She huffed. ¡°I was at a brothel.¡±


    My blood ran cold, and I felt the air hit the whites of my eyes as they widened subconsciously. I narrowed them instantly, scouring Hala¡¯s body and taking in every inch of skin visible to the eye as I was plagued with the image of a man grabbing her body and¡­I cleared my throat again, speaking in a harsher tone than I¡¯d meant to.


    ¡°You were at a what?!¡±


    ¡°A brothel, Idris, you should have seen it! There were so many women there, and they showed me¡ª!¡±


    I wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her. To instill the fear of God into her. I was furious, still scouring her body to make sure nothing, no one, had touched her. ¡°Hala!¡± I yelled, interrupting her. ¡°Do you realize the danger you could have put yourself in?!¡±


    Hala looked at me with an expression I¡¯d only ever seen on Al¡¯Haya¡ªpained disappointment. She trusted me with such a secret, and I¡¯d yelled at her like Namir would have. I didn¡¯t care, though. I was riddled with intrusive thoughts, mortified by what she may have seen in that place. My body moved quicker than my mind at that point, taking the hair on her shoulder and moving it aside to check for any marks.


    ¡°Those women could have poisoned you, the products you were given could have been laced with all kinds of drugs! You¡¯re lucky no men recognized you and¡ª!¡± I had to bite back the rest of the sentence, and her face became more apathetic than anything.


    ¡°You¡¯re making a mountain out of a mole hill again, Idris.¡±


    I cringed.


    ¡°No, Hala, you¡¯re not taking your safety seriously enough!¡± I scoffed as my hands fell back to my hips. I drew back from her, watching her angrily. ¡°Heavens,¡± I sighed. My eyes fell to the ground and I massaged my temples with one hand. ¡°I knew you¡¯d gone uneducated on certain matters¡­but this is ridiculous.¡±


    I didn¡¯t have to look at her to know how she was looking at me. I could feel the dissatisfaction oozing from her. ¡°What ¡®certain matters¡¯ might I be uneducated on, Idris?¡±


    I almost yelled at her again, but I dug deep to keep the words in my throat. Idris, a name that nearly sent me into a mouth-frothing rage. It was meant to be given to me as a blessing by my parents before they died, hoping I¡¯d survive off of my wit and cunning alone¡ªbut I hated it as much as I hated having this conversation. She was expecting me to tell her about sex, plain and simple¡ªwith no idea, no clue of the request she was making. I almost did it, had it not been for the look in her eyes. I rubbed the bridge of my nose.


    ¡°Men are animals, Hala. They wait for the right time¡­then they harm innocent girls like you. You¡¯re lucky you had the protection of those maidens in the brothel, or you may have ended up tarnished.¡±


    Her brows furrowed with confusion, cementing how innocent she was to me. My heart almost ached.


    ¡°Tarnished? What are you talking about? No man would have approached me there.¡± She scoffed.


    I wanted to tell her how wrong she was, how horribly wrong she could be. It took everything in me to contain the furious laughter welling in my chest, and I shook my head. I was amazed; her homemaking skills and academic knowledge had grown vast, she could debate on morality for hours, and explain the most complex of math problems to me¡­but she¡¯d been left in the dark on something so primal, taught on instinct alone. Asad and Namir had taught me more than enough about the topic when I¡¯d overheard a few soldiers talking about their wives performance in bed. I was 14 back then, and they¡¯d allowed Hala to turn 15 without so much as a hint to what it meant to be ¡®with¡¯ someone. I finally met her eyes once more, and had to lock my knees to keep from swooning.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been taught nothing of womanhood, I suppose¡­¡± I muttered, letting out a bit of that furious laughter. Hala leaned further on the seat of her vanity, looking up at me with wide eyes. I swear I saw insult laced in her expression.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    I sighed heavily, looking back down to the ground and combing through my curls. I had to pick apart a tangle, before shoving my hand back under my bicep. ¡°I¡¯m taking you back there tomorrow, and they¡¯re explaining everything.¡±


    Her eyes lit up with excitement, and I shook my head again. I was so close to doing it myself¡ªexplaining what she was so ignorant about. Expecting a man nearly two years her senior to tell her about such a thing was dizzying, mostly because I was the man in question. The only thing that could make me angrier was the idea of what I might have to ward off of her tomorrow inside the brothel. I sat in the armchair between the bed and vanity, keeping my arms crossed as she examined her face in the mirror. I know I looked like an angry animal, looking back on it. I was privileged, then. For that to be the most anger I¡¯d ever experience.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    It was a short trip to the brothel, with both of us just small enough to slip through the Northern wall into town. We both wore commoners¡¯ clothes, and walked through the streets as merchants and farmers tried to sell their wares to us. I held my hand up to them with a hardened expression. I didn¡¯t care about their metals or grains¡ªI cared about the alleyway that was the victim of heavy foot traffic. Guilty men walked out of the back street, pulling their pants up higher as they reentered the busy main road. Hala tugged my arm and guided me down the path, her eyes alight with wonder. I was curious as to if she knew she was walking into one of the most dangerous parts of town, but didn¡¯t bother asking.


    Upon entry, a woman with piercing green eyes met my gaze. We almost looked alike, with defined faces and wiry figures. She seemed to keep her figure so small on purpose, whereas mine was a byproduct of my poor athleticism. She leaned forward onto the desk she stood behind, smiling at Hala.


    ¡°Brought a friend, hm?¡± She asked, her voice laced with both antagonism and a hint of allure. Hala¡¯s face twisted with annoyance, as if the woman were an old friend japing her.


    ¡°He made me come back.¡±


    I crossed my arms, looking from Hala to the woman with a shit-eating grin.


    ¡°It seems a massive part of Princess Hala¡¯s lesson was glazed over, yesterday.¡±


    Her face fell from one of seduction to one of pure panic, as the title fell from my lips. I reveled in her anxiety, as she tried to form words. ¡°P-princess?¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help the smile from growing wider as I nodded. ¡°Yep.¡± Hala smiled at the woman embarrassedly, but I took no such courtesy. My smile was one of deviance, and the woman behind the desk could tell as much. With a swift movement, she went behind the curtain to her right. ¡°You bitch!¡± I heard her hiss, ¡°You didn¡¯t recognize the Princess of Mahsul?!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not the one who used to be an Imperial Guard, Habun!¡± Another, more melodic voice retorted. She didn¡¯t seem as panicked. The emerald-eyed woman returned with another woman of similar stature, and she bowed deeply. The woman¡¯s forehead touched the standing desk in front of us, and she spoke in a calm, apologetic tone. ¡°Your Highness, we are so sorry to have allowed you into this establishment yesterday. Please¡­do not bring any punishment against us!¡±


    Shifting on my feet and keeping my arms crossed, I spoke on Hala¡¯s behalf. ¡°Nothing will happen to your¡­establishment, since Al¡¯Hala is safe.¡± I stated. Hala looked at me appreciatively as I spoke again. ¡°But in return, I need you all to explain exactly what goes on in your business.¡±


    ¡°Do it, Tayir.¡± The emerald-eyed woman seethed, cutting those eyes into the woman beside her. Tayir¡¯s eyes widened with realization.


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t know¡­?¡±


    I shook my head, tightening my arms around myself as a man I recognized walked out from behind the curtain on the far right side of the room. An Imperial Courts-man, whose eyes were wide as saucers when they fell upon me. I offered him a threatening glare, and he made haste to the table of alcohol nearby. Tayir walked out from behind the desk, and took Hala by the shoulders, escorting her to the room behind the desk to my left. It felt like I¡¯d been standing out there until Spring came, watching as countless soldiers and tradesmen of high status walked in and out of the whorehouse.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    After the hushed voices in the room behind the standing desk dissipated, Tayir returned with Hala. She wore a thousand-yard stare as Tayir handed her back to me. I took herm arm in mine, covering her face more with the headscarf she wore. That seemed to snap her out of her daze.


    ¡°Idris!¡± She hissed.


    I nodded in thanks to the woman, eyeing her odd figure. She was too tall and muscular, and I drew my own conclusions about the business owners of the brothel.


    ¡°Poor thing hardly knew why she cramped each month¡­I think we explained it all to the best of our abilities.¡± Tayir muttered with a hand on her cheek.


    Guiding Hala out of the establishment was no easy task, narrowly avoiding the prying eyes of different men who knew me. Who knew us. If I had to bet, I¡¯d probably make my dhebals worth that the guardsmen in the palace I saw in that brothel would look at me differently starting from when they saw me. I didn¡¯t have much time to worry about my reputation, though, because my main goal was making sure no one recognized Hala. After slipping back into the alleyway, she looked up at me with bewilderment.


    ¡°You knew about this before I did¡­?¡± She asked.


    I could only nod in response as I walked her back towards the busy street nearby, and we traversed the sidewalk. ¡°Namir and Asad told me about it.¡±


    ¡°Father told you before he told me?¡± She almost shrieked.


    ¡°I think he was waiting for your mother to explain the topic¡­and quiet down!¡± I chided, looking around as people stared. I offered a passive smile to whoever lingered, hoping they¡¯d mind their own business instead of try to ask us what was going on.


    Haya would never explain such a topic¡ªI knew as much, and I had no idea as to why Namir wouldn¡¯t assume such. Perhaps his reasoning was something I couldn¡¯t comprehend, being so young. Hala was most certainly mature enough to grasp the concept¡ªmaybe that was why he hadn¡¯t talked to her about it. She was curious enough as is.


    As we slipped back into the Northern Wall through its crevice, and got back to the Grand Building, Hala looked at me with an expression I could only compare to Namir¡¯s when he was staring Thueban down last night.


    ¡°If I ever tell you ¡®one moment¡¯ when you knock again, you¡¯d better listen.¡± She snapped.


    I nodded slowly as my feet grew twice as cold as they had already become in the light commoners¡¯ disguise I wore.

 Chapter 4: Idris

    I couldn¡¯t escape Hala¡¯s side for a majority of that day as she asked me questions I truly had no business answering for her. There were several times I tried to brush her off, to send her to her mother to ask them, but she wouldn¡¯t listen. She insisted that Al¡¯Haya wouldn¡¯t bother to answer them, and that I was the only person she could trust with such a personal matter. I grew more and more frustrated, despite knowing as much myself. Finally, I escaped the conversation by deceiving her into thinking I had training with Asad. I needed fresh air after such misadventures, so I went to Namir¡¯s stable and picked out a white horse whose neck was arched and muscular. A sweet mare, with expressive eyes and a happy demeanor. She had become my riding buddy over the past several months, as she kept snapping at Asad when he tried to ride her. It was clear that his sheer size was the issue¡ªbut he was too dense to realize that. She let me ride her without issue, and so I¡¯d take her out once every few days. The stable workers called her Riah, and I understood why whenever I urged her to go any faster than a trot.


    The horse had brilliant speed, covering at least six miles in five minutes. She was the best horse in the Kingdom, no doubt. I rode Riah until the sun began to set, out towards the jungle; watching as parrots sat atop canopies and lemurs tried to bother them. They¡¯d sit atop a fruit tree¡¯s branch, and pester the birds until they pecked at them. Of course, the lemurs wanted the fruit they¡¯d sit above, and the parrots would inadvertently be helping them gain access to them. It was astonishing how just a few hours¡¯ travel brought so many degrees more of warmth. The many stimuli of the jungle still didn¡¯t quite quell my thoughts, as I imagined how life may have been if I hadn¡¯t managed to weasel my way into living at the palace. I was lucky to have such trivial worries, compared to those I had as a child. My biggest worry back then was surviving the night, with an empty stomach and open wounds from prying open makeshift crab traps. I could still feel the snap of the jerry rigged cage door if I lingered on the thought for too long.


    I stroked Riah¡¯s mane as we trotted along the jungle, twittering birds and chattering primates became more active in the later hours of the evening. I tried to stay grounded in the present moment, but I couldn¡¯t stop ruminating over Hala and Namir¡¯s statement. Considering me a noble¡ªor anything more¡ªwas a pipe dream. In no way was I as fanciful or important as the Royal Family or their ilk¡ªI was what I am: a lowly-born peasant. I chuckled bitterly to myself. Training with Asad was a boldfaced lie. I had narrowly avoided such tasks by burying myself in books that Namir had nudged me to investigate in his personal library. The only people allowed in were himself, his blood, and his strategist: Iirshad. The man was kindhearted and honest, and as I began visiting the library more often; he had taken me under his wing. He was unlike any other so-called strategists, nowhere near as shady in appearance nor demeanor. His smile brightened the room, and his eyes could either fill you with warm affection, or send you running with your tail between your legs.


    Iirshad was the one who recommended other books to me when he picked up on the themes of my interests; historical archives of fallen Kingdoms and their Kings, encouraging me to read even longer books about the cultures of the regions that fell to Zarvan and Strolgia long ago.


    ¡°These books aren¡¯t about war, but they¡¯ll keep you busy for a while.¡± He winked as he handed me three books¡ªall more than 500 pages in length. ¡°Asad never steps foot in here, come to read when he goes to the prayer room in the morning.¡± He added with a charming smile.


    I read those books in a large armchair that was sat beside a window of the library in four days, slithering into the room immediately after eating breakfast and engorging myself with their knowledge. Endless tales of folklore and symbolism. Religions that had died out entirely, or been expounded upon over the centuries. The books were old, but the only sign of it was their smell; the pages themselves were in near-perfect condition. Musky, rotted paper without a single tear or fading of the text¡ªit was a wonder that such books had been preserved, especially considering that Mahsul was only 45 years old when I¡¯d been given them to read.


    Iirshad was a man of great knowledge, and he always came around when I needed him most. He was a blessing in his own right. Just as I imagined how he¡¯d handle the current issue I faced with Hala, a Gorchan Beetle whirred past me while I trotted down the path on Riah, nearly sending me off of her by how large it was. I quickly pulled myself from the memories, noticing that the sun was in its final minutes of setting. A small nagging voice always crept in on me in such hours, unworthy, unworthy, unworthy.


    With a heavy sigh, I turned Riah around and headed back to the palace. I shouldn¡¯t have left Hala like I had, so confused and alone. But I was far too immature and self-conscious to truly approach the topic head-on. She wasn¡¯t my child, nor was I obligated to be her personal sex tutor. I shuddered at the thought, imagining what that could entail. I¡¯d only been wrestling with puberty for two years, myself, and had many questions of my own. At least I had Asad and Namir, though. I rolled up the sleeves of my tunic, looking at my disappointing forearms and shaking my head.


    ¡°They¡¯ll come in someday¡­¡± I muttered.


    As long as I was helping Asad put that armor on, it was almost guaranteed. That metal was heavier than any boulder¡ªmy arms still shook when I had to hold it for longer than a minute, while Asad paused to grab something or adjust his clothing. I was envious of Asad¡¯s strength. Namir was also a man of great musculature. Even Thueban, despite his inability to fight Namir, was formidable in comparison to myself. I never understood what they saw in me; maybe it was their attempt to gain good favor from God; maybe they truly believed me to be a man of great potential. I could deal with their jokes, and how they picked on me for my poor athletic skills. It was Hala¡¯s comments that got under my skin¡ªfor some reason I was still too immature to understand. Hala. My chest tightened again as I thought of her. She was such a monumental person in my life, and there I was avoiding her like the plague. I had to. I wasn¡¯t worthy of her attention, so the only time I tried to spend with her was when she had to be escorted to different social gatherings, or on nights I¡¯d finally swallowed the courage to check in on her.


    When we were younger, I could stay by her side for endless hours day or night. It wasn¡¯t until she was in her early teens that I picked up on the nuances taking place¡ªI was seen as a peasant by her friends, and potential suitors who were savvy enough to have heard about how we¡¯d met. Jamila was the biggest instigator of the bullying, always pretending like Hala had been the antagonist of how she and I met. The other nobles ate it up, taking her words as truth. Anything they could cling onto in order to smear the Royal name, I suppose. When boys began taking interest in her, something I¡¯d been anticipating¡ªdreading, since she was 10 and I was nearing 12, Jamila made sure to prevent the boys from becoming too close to her. Sure, Hala was abrasive; she was her Father¡¯s daughter. But she wasn¡¯t anything like how Jamila had tried to depict her: a girl with no couth, whose tongue was forked and resulted to violence any time conflict arose. Such rumors wouldn¡¯t help her later in life, either, as fate would reveal.Stolen story; please report.


    I rode up to the gates of the palace, greeting the guards.


    ¡°Freznah krodhat.¡± I said softly. The guards replied in kind, and opened the gates. Riah trotted past the guards and into the main walkways, naturally heading towards the Grand Building. The sun was long past set by now, and I hopped off the horse to bring her back to the stables. Nearly losing my balance as I dismounted, I caught myself and walked with her. She always whinnied at me when I put her up, to which I¡¯d reassure her I¡®d be back.


    ¡°It¡¯ll only be a couple of days, Riah. Easy, girl.¡± I said, closing the stall door.


    Riah looked at me with her emotive eyes, and I patted her head. Bidding my four-legged friend goodbye, I made my way out of the stable.


    Walking through the entrance of the Grand Building, I heard Namir¡¯s voice as it boomed through the throne room. He sounded more distressed than usual, so I picked up my pace and made haste. A problem had arisen. Upon entering the room, Namir was pacing like a caged tiger. A sense of unease welled in my stomach as I heard him rambling to Asad, who was leaning against the column next to the dais as he watched his brother worriedly.


    ¡°What have I done, Asad?¡± He asked, his voice more of a groan.


    ¡°You did what you had to, Brother.¡± Asad reassured him. ¡°Lest we lose valuable trade routes.¡±


    ¡°At what cost?!¡± He roared. ¡°My daughter¡¯s life?!¡±


    I froze, blinking as I looked between the brothers. Asad laid eyes on me, offering a not-fully-reassuring smile.


    ¡°Hala will be fine, Namir.¡± Asad insisted. ¡°She¡¯s a strong girl, and you¡¯d been hoping for her to find a suitor for years, now. Were you not just stressed out over her inability to find someone a couple of weeks ago?¡±


    A suitor? A suitor? What the hell were they on about?


    I cleared my throat, and Namir stopped pacing. His eyes weren¡¯t alight in their usual fervor; they were upset, sad, disillusioned as they met mine.


    ¡°Skwayar,¡± Namir began. ¡°Sit. I need to talk to you.¡±


    I sat at a table close to the throne and watched Namir with more attention than I¡¯d ever given another living being, mortified by whatever I was going to be told. Cold flashes ran through my body, and I kept feeling the sensation of falling deep within my chest.


    ¡°Hala has found a husband.¡± He informed me.


    I blinked, looking from Namir to Asad. The King¡¯s brother nodded grimly to me, and I cleared my throat as a lump formed in it. I knew this day was coming, Hala had been announced as ready for suitors three years ago. How was it, that in three years¡¯ time to come to terms with such a thing¡ªI wasn¡¯t ready?


    ¡°Who?¡± I asked, my voice shaking a bit.


    I didn¡¯t want to know the answer. I wanted to run out of the room then and there, go find Hala, and hug her to my chest. I wished I could keep her here forever, not in some foreign land where she wouldn¡¯t know a single soul. She¡¯d be alone again, discovering new things by herself¡ªI¡¯d be alone again, never bothering to venture further than the palace doors if the Royal Family was kind enough to let me stay with them.


    ¡°Duke Shahin Markovni of Otlak.¡± Namir replied.


    No. No way. Not in a million years.


    ¡°I see¡­¡± I replied.


    I wanted to slap the King, and I think my gaze said as much. Namir didn¡¯t look at me with anger, though, his face was laced with empathy and his eyes filled with sorrow. My anger quelled almost instantly, and the lump in my throat grew larger. If Namir didn¡¯t even have it in him to be angry over this¡ªI couldn¡¯t either. Ever since I¡¯d met that Duke, something about him felt off. His eyes were beady and frightening, with a smile that never met them. When I shook his hand after our Chon game on Hala¡¯s birthday¡ªit was freezing cold. The man was like a vampire, so pale and charming. I half-expected him to dawn fangs and a long cape, just like the myths I¡¯d read in Namir¡¯s personal library. I¡¯d seen him a couple of times since that night, but always made sure Hala never got too close to him. I¡¯d warned her of that Duke, quite sternly as I recalled it. She never understood why, seeing Shahin as a kind and attractive man. Her compliments of him made me want to crawl out of my skin, and I told her as much in the past. She learned to keep her swooning over him to her girl friends rather quickly.


    ¡°When is the wedding?¡± I finally grew the courage to ask, keeping my voice as calm as I could muster.


    ¡°On her 16th birthday.¡±


    Six months. That was how long I had with my best friend. Six months. I shot up from the seat and walked out of the room, holding my fist to my mouth to keep from getting sick. I had six months until I had to watch her walk down an aisle to another man¡ªa man who wasn¡¯t me. Halfway down the hall I froze.


    I wanted her to marry me?


    My hands grew clammy, and I felt my head spin. I made a break for the nearest bedroom, throwing the bathroom door open and letting my dinner come up with such violence I¡¯d never had¡ªeven during my worst illnesses. Even when I was a starving child, sick with a parasite from bad drinking water, I¡¯d never been so ill. I retched, and retched, and retched, until I was dry heaving and sweat was making my entire body sticky. I felt my tunic gripping onto my skin, as the cold flashes I once had turned to hot flashes. I had six months to come to terms with the woman I loved marrying another man.


    I retched again.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    When Hala heard of the news, she seemed so nonchalant it worried me. I¡¯d interrogate her about it every so often, and her ability to handle the situation so calmly was infuriating. It took me weeks to accept what had happened¡ªThueban had launched an assault plan on Shahin after Hamza¡¯s death under Al¡¯Namir¡¯s nose, and the result was Shahin swindling Namir into giving him Hala¡¯s hand. I had to rationalize the situation, because I wanted so badly to blame Al¡¯Namir for letting her be whisked away to Otlak¡ªa land 11 days¡¯ travel away from me, from us. But he wasn¡¯t to blame. Shahin threatened to cut off trade from Zarvan and Otlak if he didn¡¯t give him ¡®reparations.¡¯ What was he supposed to do? Lose valuable meats and metals?


    I spent many nights in my bathroom, throwing up my days¡¯ meals whenever I thought about it for too long: Hala getting older and loving Shahin, forgetting about Mahsul entirely and bearing heirs to the throne. I imagined her sending only the heirs back, so she could spend more time with Shahin as the rest of us raised the children; a proposition made by the Duke. Before I knew it, we¡¯d approached the day and I was mortified. Why I was so irrational, I¡¯ll never know¡ªbut I was right about him, and I¡¯d never live it down.

 Chapter 5: Hala

    The months leading up to my wedding moved at a snails pace. I found myself increasingly annoyed by the maidens of the palace as they told me how to act prim and proper for my new husband¡ªI was never quiet enough; sweet enough; soft enough; emotional enough. Everything I did, any way I breathed, was wrong to the servants and maidens. The only person who let me be me was Idris. He seemed to come around more often than before, sitting in the chair of my room between my vanity and bed, carrying conversations with me I thought we¡¯d never have again. I was able to talk to him about different books I¡¯d been reading, and practice languages with him. We often spoke in Otlank, as I was determined to perfect my accent to impress Duke Shahin. I thought about him often; his serious eyes, and how his luscious hair fell perfectly into place. Idris would snap me out of daydreams of the wedding with annoyed phrases in Otlank.


    ¡°He¡¯s a Lutrov, Hala.¡± He said as I watched a hare out of my window. His voice was so rigid in Otlank, but he always spoke with such softness, it almost didn¡¯t sound like the language I¡¯d been learning.


    ¡°Who¡¯s a Lutrov?¡± I asked, switching to Otlank to carry the conversation.


    ¡°The Duke. Don¡¯t trust him.¡±


    I was confused by his words, ¡°What do you mean?¡± I pressed.


    ¡°His smile never reaches his eyes, and haven¡¯t you noticed? Everyone always agrees with him¡ªnot out of earnest, but because they have to.¡± Idris said, his voice growing more bitter as he spoke.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re making a mountain of a mole hill, again.¡± I insisted.


    Idris bristled, shaking his head as he leaned against the back of his armchair. I turned on my bed to look at him, confused by his vitriol for the Duke. He seemed kind enough, a real charmer whenever I saw him at parties and social gatherings. Idris always kept me from him before I was betrothed to him, though, as if I¡¯d get hurt just by being too close. I looked Idris in his eyes, as they scanned my face with worry. I could tell something more was bothering him, but over the last few months I had enjoyed our time together too much to try asking him. His expression seemed softer than usual, so I worked up the courage to finally ask him.


    ¡°Idris,¡± I asked. Bristle. ¡°What is it? Why are you so friendly all of a sudden?¡±


    ¡°No particular reason. I¡¯ve turned over a new leaf since Jidhaq.¡± He replied.


    I almost laughed at him, but he truly had lost weight over the last month in particular. Jidhaq lasted three weeks, and I wouldn¡¯t have been surprised if he¡¯d actually participated in the fasting. He was even skinnier than before. Maybe he wanted more good favor from God for starting at a younger age.


    ¡°Sure¡­¡± I replied, leaning against the headboard of my bed.


    Idris, while friendlier, also seemed more observant over the last month, making sure I was always in his line of sight unless I was bathing or changing, or sleeping. If he could have, I think he would have moved into my room.


    ¡°It¡¯s to make sure I don¡¯t go breaking the promise I made your father, Hala.¡± He told me when I asked him about it.


    The promise he¡¯d made almost eight years ago, now, when we were children. He was supposed to keep me from sneaking out of the palace, and I think Father was extra harsh on him since announcing my marriage to the Duke. Thankfully, he kept my escape to the brothel between the two of us.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    I had been sitting in my room when Idris¡¯ familiar knock thumped on my door. Heavily scrutinizing a singular pimple that had chosen to show up on my cheek, and valuing every inch of personal space I¡¯d had that day, I called out to him to come in, my voice carrying my annoyance towards the interruption. He poked only his head in, before opening the door fully.


    ¡°Can¡¯t you at least keep your door open?¡± He snarked.


    ¡°Can¡¯t you mind your own business, and give me some privacy?¡± I retorted.


    I could see in his eyes that he found my comment humorous, but his voice was laced with dismay. ¡°I¡¯m tasked with watching over you, and I¡¯m not giving you time to sneak off to a brothel again.¡±


    Idris eyed the makeup pans sitting on my vanity, as he leaned against the doorframe.


    ¡°Putting on your clown disguise, again?¡±


    I shot him an annoyed glance from the reflection in the mirror, and he snickered at his own joke. I wish I had taken my slipper off and thrown it at him.


    ¡°I¡¯m not.¡± I hissed. ¡°I¡¯ve gotten better at it than the last time you saw me!¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah?¡± He asked, hunching his neck in an antagonistic manner before taking a couple of long strides into the room. He sat down in his armchair, and I gave another annoyed look at him,


    ¡°I have!¡± I repeated as I took one of the small makeup brushes and began doing my makeup.


    I took a dark brown shadow to my inner-crease, fanning it up towards my eyebrows and winging it. Once it was blended to my liking, I brought a creamy white color to the corners of my eyes, patting it in place before doing the same with a gold powder on the centers of my lids.


    I looked at my enemy from the last time Idris saw me¡ªthe coal¡ªand brought it to my lashes and upper lid lining. The application was as close to flawless as I could get, so I turned to Idris in triumph. He leaned onto his knees, inspecting the work I¡¯d done, trying to come up with some kind of insult to throw my way by the look he¡¯d been wearing. I knew I was the victor when he leaned back into the armchair with a brooding expression.


    ¡°Yeah, looks better than last time.¡± He grumbled.


    His face fell for a moment, poignant. It was the week before my wedding, and his temper had been on much more of a hair¡¯s trigger. The servants were fearful to even breathe in his direction, lest they get yelled at. He took a deep breath, leaning forward again as he looked at me intently. After a long moment of silence, he spoke again.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you should go, Themaz.¡± He admitted. I¡¯d never heard him use the term for me, and it sent my heart aflutter. I¡¯d only used it on my closest girl friends, or facetiously towards Jamila. Never had I heard it uttered from a young man¡¯s lips towards me.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    I blinked.


    ¡°I have to, Idris. I have no choice.¡±


    His throat bobbed a few times as he broke eye contact, choosing to stare at the floor. ¡°You don¡¯t think it¡¯s a bit¡­odd to marry a man you¡¯ve only met a few times in passing?¡± He asked, growing more defensive as he spoke.


    I kept calm, watching him with growing concern. ¡°I¡¯ve been raised to marry whomever my family saw fit, Idris.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t expect to love the man you marry?¡± Bitterness laced his voice, and he was fighting his lips from curling into a frown. I recalled the last time I¡¯d seen a similar look in his eyes, when I¡¯d asked him about his parents. The only time I¡¯d ever asked him. I had to think carefully about my next words.


    ¡°Love is a positive byproduct of a political marriage. Nobility and Royalty don¡¯t marry for love.¡± I replied hesitantly. I only knew how to tell the truth in that moment, and the words came out much more blunt than I¡¯d wanted them to.


    Idris brought his index finger and thumb to his eyes, rubbing them gently as he breathed in deeply once more. After he held his breath for longer than what must have been comfortable, I put my hand on his knee and squeezed it.


    ¡°Idris.¡± I said.


    He picked his head up and loosed a breath, his eyes bloodshot and filled with tears. It was the most emotion I¡¯d seen him have in years. My heart nearly exploded.


    ¡°They have bunnies, you know.¡± I told him, forcing a smile.


    He let out the remainder of his breath, another poignant expression on his face as he nodded. His eyes went slightly downcast, and he finally broke the mask. His lips contorted into the frown I¡¯d watched him fight as he recalled how much I loved the small creatures. I¡¯d told him numerous times how leggy and awkward the Hares in Mahsul were.


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± he whispered. His voice broke as he spoke.


    ¡°It might be cool, you know. I could show you all of the spots I find, just like when we were kids.¡± I told him, tracing circles on his knee in as soothing a manner as I could.


    Bristle.


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± he whispered again, taking in another shaky breath. He put his head down again, burying it under his arm and taking a moment to compose himself as his shoulders trembled. In a swift and abrupt movement, he stood and stretched his limbs. His tears still stained his cheeks, but he wore a smile. My expression betrayed me, as he cocked an eyebrow once we¡¯d made eye contact again.


    ¡°What?¡± He asked. ¡°Do you see me as less of a man, now?¡± His voice was still a bit raw from emotion.


    ¡°No.¡± I smiled. ¡°Just wondering which version of you I¡¯m going to get next.¡±


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    I¡¯d grown so suffocated the night before my wedding, after trying on so many gowns my head began to spin and arguing with maidens over floral arrangements. I had to escape to the roof. I laid there, sprawled out upon the shingles and watching the stars as bugs of all kinds came and went. I didn¡¯t mind their company, especially the lunar moths. They were always so beautiful this time of year, mature and fully grown into their markings. Their vibrant colors would hypnotize me as I laid there, letting them crawl onto my finger and admiring them under the moonlight. A yellow-bodied moth had become my newest friend as I took in its mint green eyes and russet wings. The feeling of the slight chill in Mahsul¡¯s air was something I could sit in forever atop this roof, wrapping me up in its serenity. The tail end of winter was such a nice time in my homeland.


    I heard a muffled voice call my name, instantly recognizing it as I begrudgingly shooed the moth away. I scooted down a bit to let my shoe hang off of the roof, hinting to whomever was looking for me that I was still here, safe and sound. The voice called out once more, before I heard a few areas of my room being rummaged through¡ªmost likely my closet and chest of drawers. The balcony door flew open, before a huff and footsteps came climbing the lattice. Idris grunted to lift himself up on the roof, looking at me with scornful eyes. I didn¡¯t have a single six-legged friend to help me as I sat up and looked at him.


    ¡°Hala, you scared the shit out of me!¡± He chided me.


    ¡°I have to keep you on your toes, Idris.¡± I chuckled.


    Bristle.


    My friend took a seat next to me as he watched me with both annoyance and entertainment. His gaze met the stars, and I looked over at him as his eyes reflected the millions of shimmering lights littering the sky.


    ¡°What are you up here pondering?¡± He finally asked, shooting me a sidelong glance.


    I sighed, recalling the floral dispute I¡¯d had with the maidens earlier, along with a particular maiden telling me to keep my volume in check.


    I laid down, hitting the roof with a thud. ¡°Why the maidens keep telling me to stop being so loud.¡±


    Idris looked at me for a split second, a smirk pulling at his lips. ¡°Yeah? I heard you yelling at them earlier for trying to get you to carry irises down the aisle tomorrow¡ªdo they really make your throat swell?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I scoffed. ¡°I just think they¡¯re pathetic-looking flowers.¡±


    Idris sighed, shaking his head with disapproval as a dry laugh escaped his lips. I almost pinched him, finding his belittling nature to be enraging.


    ¡°No wonder the maidens are asking you to stop being such a hassle¡­¡± he muttered softly.


    ¡°I beg your pardon?¡± I asked, cutting my eyes at him scornfully for a second. He paused and chuckled again.


    ¡°They¡¯re not fitting of someone of your stature.¡± He corrected himself.


    I readjusted myself after another long pause, turning on my side and propping my head on my hand to look at him. He was already looking at me, but he looked a little out of it. ¡°If they¡¯re going to make me carry a bouquet, it might as well be with nice flowers.¡± I stated.


    Idris¡¯ eyes widened for split second, and he looked down at the shingles. His face contorted with something¡ªmaybe it was dismay, or maybe scorn, but he was unhappy with what I¡¯d said. I knew that much for sure. He sighed frustratedly, and I leaned forward a bit.


    ¡°What?¡± I asked in response to his sigh. ¡°Do you think I should just carry whatever they give me?¡±


    ¡°No, no,¡± he replied. ¡°I was just thinking about how making you carry irises is stupid.¡±


    I knew he was lying, but I let his obvious dissatisfaction slide.


    ¡°Tiger Lilies would be nice¡­¡± I murmured as my eyes fell to the shingle I toyed with.


    ¡°Much more befitting of the daughter of Al¡¯Namir.¡± He replied, his voice a bit distant as he looked up at the stars.


    I was lost in his eyes the moment I looked back at them. I wish I¡¯d realized then, that I¡¯d been feeling something for Idris that was genuine. Peace. Tayir¡¯s words echoed through my mind:


    Similarly to how you feel when the haze of warmth slips you off to sleep, he¡¯ll bring you such peace.


    I stifled the thought, focusing on the wedding I¡¯d be having the next day. I kept my eyes on Idris, though, finding his eyes so hypnotic that it made my head swim. I didn¡¯t know it, but a smile had crept unto my face. It didn¡¯t hit me that I¡¯d been staring at Idris until he tweaked an eyebrow at me, returning my gaze.


    ¡°I got something on my face?¡± He asked.


    ¡°No, I was just thinking about how nice your eyes look under the stars.¡±


    Bristle.


    ¡°You always says such weird things.¡±


    ¡°Weird, or honest?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Weird.¡± He reassured me.


    I rolled onto my back again, chuckling as I watched the stars gleam and shine. I knew deep down that I¡¯d miss such exchanges once I¡¯d made it to Otlak. I relished in the moment, hoping to never lose the sound of his voice in my memory. We sat in silence for a long time, listening to the crickets as they chirped.


    ¡°You promise you¡¯ll come visit as often as you can?¡± Idris¡¯ voice broke the silence.


    ¡°I promise, Idris.¡± I replied.


    He bristled again

 Chapter 6: Hala

    The day of my wedding, I was a nervous wreck. I stood in my scratchy gown, as the tule puffed out under my waistline to accentuate my meager curves. The trail was so long, I didn¡¯t know whether to admire it or tear it off. I¡¯d been practicing all morning how to walk in that damned dress, finding it difficult not to trip over my own two feet. I felt my heartbeat in my throat, my stomach churning as I looked at the heavy birch doors to the throne room with anticipation. My eyes fell to my bouquet, a more feminine approach than I¡¯d wanted¡ªLavender, Baby¡¯s Breath, and Peonies. I felt a large, warm hand touch my shoulder and knew it was Father. His smile was nervous, and a bit bleak as I turned to face him. I almost didn¡¯t recognize him as the mighty Al¡¯Namir.


    ¡°I think I wore a similar expression when I married your mother.¡± He said softly, squeezing my shoulder ever so lightly. Pride swelled in my chest, as I imagined how Father looked on his wedding day. I wanted to hear the story once more, but as I opened my mouth to ask¡ªI¡¯d been enveloped by light.


    He opened the doors, and the light from the throne room blinded me. Doubly so, with the amount of white in the room. My hands shook as Father guided me down the aisle, and I met Shahin¡¯s gaze. Refined music began playing, and my eyes darted around once more to all of the nobles who attended the ceremony before they fell back on him. Shahin¡¯s hair was slicked back, and he wore a fine suit with a gold and red pocket square. The air I was breathing hitched in my throat as I took in his features, even more prominent than the times I¡¯d met him in passing. I was able to see them up close after a moment, when Father handed me off to him.


    It felt like years had passed as we stood there, listening to the priest drone on and on about the unity of nations. Nobles of both Kingdoms sat, watching with attentive eyes as the priest continued. I kept my eyes on the floor, occasionally stealing glances of the man I could now call my husband. We¡¯d occasionally look at each other at the same time, and he¡¯d offer me a warm smile. I smiled back, shifting on my feet. A few times, both of us offered looks of light annoyance at the priest¡¯s words¡ªonly to smile and chuckle at each other.


    I felt bewitched by the man, completely and utterly under his spell as his handsome features were illuminated by the sunlight. Once the priest finally finished his speech, we sealed the marriage with a kiss. His lips were soft and plump, and he didn¡¯t linger like I was expecting him to.


    All of us sat at a long table¡ªit had to have been custom built for this wedding, as the finish was freshly painted. Almost all of the guests were able to sit at it; save for security and servants. Nobles I¡¯d never even met gave soliloquies-worth of words to us, speaking for so long that their voices became unbearable to listen to. I almost fell asleep to one of them, but Shahin nudged me with his shoulder gently. He smiled at me, pointing at the noble with his nose, and I returned my gaze to the man as he compared me to the moon. A compliment I¡¯d heard millions of times in my life.


    By the end of the reception, I¡¯d grown comfortable enough in sharing the same space with Shahin that I leaned against him with half of my weight. He didn¡¯t move¡ªin fact, he welcomed it by putting his arm around me. We sat, listening to the final speeches; my Mother and Father¡¯s. I wondered if Shahin¡¯s family was still alive, and if they couldn¡¯t make it to the reception. I didn¡¯t see anyone of his likeness in attendance. After Father finished his speech, the two of us rose from the table and the guests followed suit. They lined the aisle out of the throne room, and I hugged each person I knew tightly. I got to the end of the aisle, hugging Fatiha so tight she squeaked, and noticed someone was missing: Idris.


    I scanned the room for him, finally meeting his gaze and looking at him with a puzzled expression. I urged him to come over, hugging him when he finally made it to arm¡¯s reach. He groaned as I pulled him tight, returning the hug with his usual, gentle caress. I cherished the feeling of his arms around me, and looked up at him with care.


    ¡°Take care of Mother and Father, alright?¡± I asked. ¡°Yeah.¡± He said with a flat tone. I raised an eyebrow, and pinched his bicep. ¡°And grow some muscle while I¡¯m gone.¡± I ordered teasingly.


    Idris flinched at my touch, yanking his arm away and huffing. ¡°Modesty is beyond your reach.¡± He grumbled, looking down at me angrily. I couldn¡¯t help but laugh, wishing he could come with us. He¡¯d been the one to watch me grow¡ªto encourage my growth, and I did the same for him. Deep down, I was worried, and I hoped he¡¯d continue his growth after I was gone. Shahin walked me out of the palace, and helped me board the carriage with great care. His hands were chilly, but I chalked it up to nerves. When we were alone in the cabin, he smiled at me as he sat adjacent to me.


    ¡°Are you excited, Princess? To see Otlak?¡± He asked.


    I nodded, trying to keep my words to a minimum. The maidens¡¯ voices rang clearly in my ears, and I was determined not to be seen as annoying by my husband. I smiled at him with the sweetest face I could muster, and even used some of the poses Tayir had taught me last year throughout the ride to seem more alluring. I was a young girl, whose head was filled with fantasy¡ªI hoped to find home with this new man, and his homeland. We¡¯d be spending the next 11 days together, and the journey was nothing less than magical. Shahin was courteous, and nurturing towards me. Our first night in a town, we walked the streets and admired the shoppes until dusk¡ªgoing to the inn and getting our room. I was almost shocked to see two beds, but saw it as a gesture of kindness.


    ¡°One bed would have sufficed¡­¡± I told him.


    His eyebrows shot up as he looked at me, tilting his head with shock. ¡°Heavens, me¡­¡± he sighed. ¡°Do you think I¡¯m a man who¡¯d sleep with a child?¡± He asked as he shook his head.


    I had no intention of offending the Duke, and I shook my own head in response. He had a point¡ªShahin was 22 years-old, a fully-fledged adult in comparison to me, having turned 16 that day.


    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t mean to offend you, Shahin. I think I was just given a different idea of marriage nights¡­¡± I explained.


    He chuckled as he disappeared into the bathroom with a change of clothes. I was in awe. Honestly, I was expecting him to be much more demanding of my space and body¡ªespecially with the seeds of doubt Idris had planted in my head. He¡¯d gone as far as to warn me to not be in the same room alone with the Duke, but here we were. In a two-bedded room of an inn, and he was changing in the bathroom. I took clothing from my own bag, and changed behind a room divider into a soft robe I¡¯d been gifted by Mother. She stitched the embroidery herself, and I knew for a fact a prayer had been whispered with each puncture of the needle through the thread.


    As we settled into our beds for the night, I found myself staring at the ceiling more often than keeping my eyes closed. I had so many questions brimming within me, and I wanted so badly to hear their answers.


    ¡°Shahin?¡± I finally asked, keeping my voice down in case he¡¯d gone to sleep.


    ¡°Yes, Hala?¡± He asked. I turned my head to find him looking back at me from his bed. The way he said my name was interesting, with his accent poking through as he spoke Mahsulah.


    ¡°Why did you ask for my hand?¡±


    ¡°Well, you could say I was doing myself a favor.¡± He replied. I looked at him with a puzzled expression, and he smiled at me. ¡°For starters, you¡¯re a beautiful girl who I¡¯m most certain will become a beautiful woman.¡± He said. I returned his smile with one of my own, shy and meek.


    ¡°You have the same determined gaze as your father, to which I¡¯d assume you hold a similar ability to lead. I¡¯m not sure if you know this, but Tavuk isn¡¯t exactly the best at decision-making. I¡¯m afraid his family¡¯s complacency ended up being passed on to him.¡± He explained. My fingers felt electric, pulsing with power as I imagined aiding my husband in making major decisions for Tavuk¡¯s sake.


    I could hear his smile as he spoke. ¡°I¡¯m hoping you¡¯re also capable of tending to the palace with the servants, fixing it to how you see fit for a possible family, and guests who may visit. Do you enjoy cooking? Baking?¡± My smile grew wider, and I nodded.


    ¡°I can cook any dish in the Seven Kingdoms.¡± I said softly.


    Shahin let out a small breath of laughter, and I felt even more entranced by his charm. He focused his gaze on me for a brief moment, before looking to the wall behind me. I wondered if, perhaps, he was someone who was uncomfortable with eye-contact.


    ¡°Splendid. Consider yourself in charge of whatever the servants may cook. Should you find yourself bored, or wanting to impress a specific guest, you have free reign of the kitchen.¡±


    I was over the moon. The idea of having an entire kitchen to myself made me ecstatic. I imagined meals with my family, with Fatiha and her sisters as they admired Shahin¡¯s home. Shahin brought his arm under his head, using it as a pillow.


    ¡°What all did you do in the palace, aside from studying?¡± Shahin asked.


    ¡°I did nothing but try to get out of the palace.¡± I said honestly.


    Shahin brought his hand up, and propped himself up as he spoke. ¡°Really, now?¡± He asked. ¡°Why would a princess try escaping her lap of luxury?¡±


    ¡°To see the people I serve.¡± I replied. ¡°Father was insistent I only leave the palace with a guard, he always thought I¡¯d get hurt if I went out alone.¡±


    Shahin smiled and shook his head slightly, looking at me keenly.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re going to send me on wild goose chases to track you down.¡± He teased.


    ¡°Not so long as you let me leave on my own volition.¡± I chuckled. Shahin nodded in understanding. Our banter was enjoyable, and I could tell he felt similarly.


    ¡°I¡¯ll make sure to keep that in mind.¡± He said softly.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    I had no idea what Idris had tried warning me about when he told me to be cautious of Shahin. Over the course of our travels, he was nurturing and kind. Each morning, and every couple of hours he¡¯d ask me how I was doing. It was the most someone had ever checked on me, and I felt prioritized. Each night, we slept in separate beds¡ªand each morning he¡¯d greet me with a hug and bring me to the inn¡¯s caf¨¦ for breakfast. I dined on countless fluffy pancakes and muffins, adorned with fruits and different drizzles of icing.


    On the carriage ride, we discussed many things. I learned that Shahin had been particularly fond of psychology and anatomy; taking great pride in helping the people of his land overcome illnesses and ailments of all kinds. He spoke for two hours about the different parts of the spine to me, and what the nerves did. Shahin had an air about him that was just mesmerizing to be around, as if the air he breathed was a deliriant. I saw him as a man of many accomplishments, and even virtue. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    I took particular interest in seeing the surroundings change to more of a woodland environment, peeking through the window and catching white-ringed foxes as they made their way from their holes. Finally, I saw what I¡¯d been so prepared for: a bunny, sitting right next to the carriage as it strolled forward. I leapt up from my seat, eyeing the rabbit with pure joy.


    ¡°Look!¡±


    ¡°Easy, Princess.¡± Shahin said in Otlank. He sounded a bit harsher when he used the language, but the rigidity of the language itself made it understandable. His chuckle broke the tension of his voice, and I smiled at him.


    ¡°I¡¯ve always wanted to see one in person!¡± I whispered, speaking in Otlank as best I could. Shahin smiled back at me, and tugged my sleeve softly to get me to sit back down.


    ¡°I¡¯ll make sure to have someone bring one to you, then.¡± He replied.


    I nodded vigorously, excited by the idea, and sat down. He seemed to enjoy my excitability, letting out a small laugh as I watched him with great joy.


    ¡°They don¡¯t have any rabbits in Mahsul?¡± He hummed.


    I shook my head. ¡°They have Hares, but they¡¯re much too leggy, and ugly.¡±


    ¡°Noted¡­¡± he said, raising an eyebrow and leaning back into the seat with amusement.


    ¡°Do you promise you¡¯ll actually bring one?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I promise, Song Bird.¡± He replied. Such a pet name made me look at him with a hint of confusion. I echoed the name as a question, and he smiled. ¡°You seem to flitter around a lot, twittering when you get excited. Fitting, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    I nodded, and accepted the pet name with a smile. I didn¡¯t know what to call him yet, but I¡¯d think about it eventually.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    When we finally arrived at Shahin¡¯s palace: it was a fleck of dust in comparison to home, but the building was nothing to scoff at. I was excited to get out of the carriage, as Shahin got out first and then helped me descend the steps. My body had grown stiff from the day¡¯s ride, and the sunset illuminated the palace from behind. I eyed the small windows, and the servants out in the courtyard as I stretched my legs once I fully exited the carriage.


    ¡°I know it¡¯s small, compared to what you¡¯re used to¡­¡± he began bashfully. ¡°But I hope you find yourself able to call it home.¡±


    I smiled back at him, nodding my head and walking up the steps with him at my side. The coachman carried our bags in, and the reality of my situation seemed to set in: I was wedded to the main advisor of Otlak¡¯s Kingdom, and someday he was going to help me rule Mahsul.


    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful.¡± I replied.


    Shahin opened the doors of the palace, and the Pine wood floors shone magnificently as the golden rays of sunset lit them. I was amazed, taking in the grand decor that was minimalistic yet sophisticated. I was used to busy, almost gaudy, decor in Mahsul¡ªseeing such tasteful and elegant adornments in the halls felt rather refreshing. Shahin started the tour of my new home with the basics: living room, kitchen, dining rooms, and different common areas. As we made it towards the steps, I insisted on taking my bag from the coachman. Shahin chuckled at the notion, and took the bag himself. I sighed inwardly, and let him do it despite my pride. My eyes traveled up the foyer as we made it to the second floor, and I eyed the chandelier that hung from another floor up. Its large crystals reflected the evening sun, making small prisms and reflecting dozens of small rainbows on the eggshell walls. Shahin guided me up the second set of steps, showing me the different rooms on the third floor. He had a room for each hobby, one for his piano and other stringed and windpipe instruments; another room for painting and the arts; and finally, an expansive library that encompassed a third of each floor¡ªconnected by a separate set of steps. The library also lead out to a wide back deck, overlooking a vast garden.


    A small shack sat in the corner of the property, overgrown by jasmine and different fungi. I eyed the building with interest, and Shahin spoke up.


    ¡°An old barrack building, from when my parents ran the property.¡± He explained.


    I nodded, wishing he¡¯d indulge me more about his past. I didn¡¯t dare ask him more about it, as I knew better than to ask my new husband prying questions at the time. Maybe if I¡¯d asked him, I¡¯d have understood the psychology behind that mind of his.


    Finally, we closed the tour of the estate with my room. A simple, yet mature room with mostly white decor, though the bedspread and accent pillows were muted shades of pastel green and brown. I loved it, and enjoyed the few pink accents hidden in the room¡ªpink roses on the curtain tails, and pink bows on a pair of white rabbits on a shelf. I knew it was a coincidence, but the rabbits made me smile foolishly as I took them in.


    ¡°This,¡± Shahin said. ¡°Will be your room.¡±


    ¡°I love it!¡± I told him, wrapping my arms around him. I put great effort into restraining myself as I hugged him. He chuckled, and patted me on the back. When I looked up at him, he wore the same warm smile that I¡¯d familiarized myself with seeing. ¡°I¡¯m glad, Song Bird.¡±


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Most of my first year with Lord Shahin consisted of learning the ins and outs of the palace. I learned the names of the servants, eunuchs, and maidens who lived on the property; finding myself especially fond of the presence of a set of 12 year-olds, Uyum and Melodi. The girls were so sweet, and I often helped them fold laundry or tend to menial chores like dusting. They didn¡¯t enjoy cooking as much as I did, so I took on the task of handling the kitchen with the maiden in charge; Madam Denge. Madam Denge was a blunt woman, who I had no issues with. She doted on me, and taught me shortcuts on how to make different dishes. Her adjustments were delightful, adding more flavor to the dish that I¡¯d been hoping to add myself¡ªI just couldn¡¯t quite grasp how, back in Mahsul. Shahin spent the most time with me during dinners with other guests, introducing me to them as his wife and courtesan. The nobles he invited to dinners were stunned by my proficiency in Otlank, and I carried conversations with them effortlessly.


    With time, I found myself feeling slighted by some of the guests. Each time they visited, they¡¯d repeat how good my Otlank accent was; some commented on how ¡®exotic¡¯ I looked, and Shahin would give me a glance that begged me to glaze over such comments. I smiled and bore through them, for his sake, and earned their praises with my baking. One night, when tensions were especially high amongst a tradesman and vendor; Shahin urged the servants to bring out one of my cakes. The tradesman was a prickly man, insistent that the vendor was asking too high a price for his shop to buy the goods. By the fourth time of the tradesman balking at the seller, and asking Shahin the same question¡ªwe were both massaging our temples in short intervals.


    ¡°Gentlemen, you simply must try my wife¡¯s cake¡­¡± he deflected after the fifth time the tradesman asked Shahin if the vendor¡¯s price was too high. ¡°I assure you, it will make you rethink your position.¡±


    I looked at the men expectantly as the cake came out, offering my sweetest smile as I cut into it. They fell quiet, watching as their lips shone from the drool piling in their mouths. I placed each slice onto the plate with an almost provocative expression, having just turned 17 I felt more mature¡ªand recalled Tayir telling me that men would listen to a woman more often when they put on a show.


    ¡°Please,¡± I said, handing the plates to each of them. ¡°Dig in¡± I smiled.


    The men were putty in my hands, taking a bite from their plate and melting at the taste of cream cheese icing as it danced across their tongues. Shahin looked at me, proudly, and I couldn¡¯t contain the joy in my smile as I looked back at him. The men had totally forgotten about their quarrel, and came back to it an hour later; their bellies full and happy. Afterwards, as I was cleaning the table and the men had left after coming to an agreement, Shahin hugged me from behind and planted a kiss on my neck for the first time.


    ¡°That was¡­¡± he said, kissing the crook of my neck softly. ¡°Exquisite.¡±


    I felt my shoulders stiffen as I drew in a breath. My core shook, heavy with arousal¡ªI was touch starved, barely getting more than a hug from him in the year we¡¯d been married. I pressed my body into him, and for a moment I though I felt something stir beneath his pants.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you enjoyed it.¡± I said in a gentle, playful voice.


    ¡°I can¡¯t wait to see how you mature, Song Bird.¡± He murmured into my ear.


    I chuckled at the statement, finding it more endearing than creepy.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    After my 18th birthday, Shahin began moving things into my room as he stripped them off of me. We tangled endlessly, as he took in every inch of my body. I was a ravenous lover, hungrier for him than I think he could comprehend, or handle for that matter. I loved the way he looked as I put myself on display for him, just as entranced by me as I was with him. He had his hooks planted firmly in me. If I were capable of rational thought, I¡¯d have wondered why my parents hadn¡¯t written me a single letter; why Idris never came to visit. The only time I ever thought of my family back home that year was when I sat with Dukhan, alone in the spare bedroom that I¡¯d made into her playpen.


    One evening, I walked in on Uyum and Melodi, now 14, as they folded laundry in a spare viewing room. It was fall, and the sun had begun setting earlier than it once had. Just as the light had begun to fade, I overheard the two discussing new arrivals¡ªeunuchs who would be coming from around Otlak. During my time in the library, I had noticed a new building being constructed; but never bothered to ask Shahin about its purpose.


    ¡°Do you think the eunuchs will be our age?¡± Uyum asked Melodi.


    Melodi shrugged apathetically, much more engrossed in her work than the idea of new arrivals. I raised an eyebrow at the comment, a little perturbed by both Uyum¡¯s interest in the men and Shahin keeping me in the dark about such a topic.


    ¡°Eunuchs?¡± I asked. The girls¡¯ eyes met mine and they almost looked scared of me. I tweaked a brow at them as I approached, taking note of Uyum¡¯s shoddy job at folding her pile of clothing.


    Just as I reached for Uyum¡¯s pile, she snatched it back from me. Her eyes were filled with worry, and her voice twinged with concern.


    ¡°Al¡¯Haya, you can¡¯t fold this!¡±


    ¡°And why not?¡± I asked with a teasing tone.


    ¡°Madam Denge told us to fold these alone¡­¡± Melodi murmured.


    ¡°I can help.¡± I reassured her. ¡°Lord Shahin hasn¡¯t ever taken issue with my aid in keeping things orderly.¡±


    There was enough laundry in that pile to keep them busy for hours, and I felt bad making them fold it all alone. I took some towels from the pile, folding them quickly.


    ¡°What¡¯s this about eunuchs?¡± I asked, my tone almost sounding like my mother had delivered such a question. I cringed at myself.


    ¡°There are eunuchs coming to the palace, tomorrow!¡± Uyum said excitedly.


    I smiled at Uyum, finding her enamor with the eunuchs endearing. ¡°Tomorrow?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yes!¡± She replied.


    ¡°And why are you so excited?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Uyum his puberty last month.¡± Melodi said, sticking her tongue out a Uyum and gauging her reaction.


    ¡°Puberty¡­? At 14?¡±


    The thought almost shocked me, as women in Mahsul tended to hit puberty as early as 10. I had begun cramping at age 12. It was hard for me to comprehend, being a half a year away from 19.


    ¡°Melodi!¡± Uyum hissed. ¡°Why would you say such a thing in front of Royalty?!¡±


    ¡°Relax, Uyum, your secret is safe with me.¡± I interjected, winking at the maiden.


    I finished folding more of the laundry, and turned to leave the girls to finish the rest. I was unsettled by the idea of newcomers in the palace without my knowledge, and thought it time to finally see if Shahin were capable of problem solving. I wandered the palace for a while, until coming across his art room. There he stood, painting a rabbit of Dukhan¡¯s likeness. It was rather adorable; a man with such dark, beautiful features, and an aloof demeanor painting such a small creature. A rabbit he¡¯d gifted me the first month I came to Otlak.


    ¡°Dearest?¡± I asked, calling for him softly.


    Shahin set down his palette, looking behind him with a slight smile. ¡°Yes?¡± He asked.


    I wrung my hands together. ¡°Why am I hearing about eunuchs coming tomorrow from the maidens, and not you?¡±


    His brows knitted together with worry as he wiped his hand onto his shirt, a new smear of cerulean on the white cotton. ¡°Is tomorrow not a good day?¡±


    ¡°No, no,¡± I said, waving a hand. ¡°I just would like to know about such things before they happen¡­¡± added.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Darling, I¡¯ve been rather busy lately.¡±


    Liar.


    ¡°Tavuk has had nobles down his throat all week, they¡¯ve been rather upset with him, you see¡­¡±


    I smiled at him, and shook my head. ¡°I understand. Let¡¯s not have it happen again, okay?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Of course, Dear.¡± He said, taking a couple of long strides towards me. His short sleeved shirt was stained with dried paint, a shirt he wore often when painting. He wrapped his arms around my waist, bringing me in for a hug and a kiss. ¡°Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?¡± He asked.


    ¡°You tell me every day.¡± I said with an innocent smile.

 Chapter 7: Hala (TW)

    The day that the eunuchs arrived, I preened the palace for hours. Shahin had tried to tell me to calm down¡ªthat I was overworking myself. I was incessant, though, cleaning everything I could. A few weeks after the eunuchs arrived, though, things seemed to change. Ironically enough, over those few weeks, I also filled out quite a bit more. Puberty hadn¡¯t been done with me, as I now gained more curvature to my figure. My once flat appearance disappeared almost overnight, and I stood as a fully-fledged woman¡ªjust as Fatiha had those years ago. I adored my new bodice, wearing different robes and gowns that accentuated my curves¡ªbut Shahin insisted I wear more shapeless clothing. He didn¡¯t hold me as close at night, and soon enough; I was no longer allowed to help around the palace. I awoke from sleeping beside Shahin one morning, and made my way to the kitchen. Madame Denge was adamant that I was no longer allowed to help. An order given to her by a high-standing eunuch named Altin. When I interrogated the man about such orders, he insisted that Shahin had, indeed, issued him the notice. I stormed back to our room, disregarding his sleep and opening the door loudly.


    ¡°Shahin.¡± I said in a low voice. He sat up from the bed groggily, rubbing his eyes as he looked over at me.


    ¡°Yes, Song Bird?¡± He asked. His straight hair jutted out in different directions as he rose from the pillow.


    The pet name felt like an insult. ¡°What is this about me not being allowed to help around the palace? I went to help Denge earlier and she told me that Altin said such a thing.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s probably seen how hard you¡¯ve been working and wants you to rest, Dear.¡± He yawned.


    He was handling the issue far too casually for my liking, and my jaw clenched.


    ¡°Could you tell him to stop?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do about it.¡± He said. ¡°You¡¯ve woken me up over such petulant issues?¡±


    I almost saw red, finding his blas¨¦ attitude beyond annoying. ¡°Petulant?¡± I asked. I dropped the issue when he seemed to fully awaken, and his eyes narrowed on me.


    ¡°Petulant.¡± He repeated with a monotone voice.


    This would happen recurrently, I¡¯d go to help a servant or Eunuch and they¡¯d insist that Shahin had stated that I wasn¡¯t allowed to help them. I was more than enraged, at that point, and stormed off to the stables to change into a maiden¡¯s gown. I needed to escape¡ªto flee that wretched palace, at least for a while. The leather vest I¡¯d snagged was giving me a hassle, and I cursed under my breath. A voice I¡¯d never heard before called out to me.


    ¡°M¡¯Lady?¡± The masculine voice asked.


    I whipped around in a frenzy, looking to find its origin. A handsome, youthful young eunuch looked back at me. His blue eyes and blonde hair weren¡¯t out of place, but still a bit jarring for me considering how rare the features were back home.


    ¡°What?¡± I snapped.


    ¡°Where¡­are you going, dressed like that?¡±


    I furrowed my brows at him, and he seemed to grow more flustered. ¡°None of your business.¡± I snarked.


    ¡°I think it is my business, M¡¯Lady. What if Lord Shahin goes looking for you?¡±


    ¡°What would he care?!¡± I asked. ¡°He¡¯s much more interested in going off to Tavuk¡¯s palace and restricting my freedom than he is with allowing me to do anything.¡±


    The eunuch was taken aback by my temper, and I crossed my arms as I faced him once more. No one in the palace had seen me in my rawest form yet, so the change in demeanor was probably shocking¡ªbut I gave it little thought in that moment. He scratched the back of his head, and his eyes fell to the ground as he deliberated his next words.


    ¡°All I¡¯m saying is that I wouldn¡¯t go out of this palace, if I were you.¡± He warned.


    ¡°And why would that be?¡± I asked, trying to lace the leather vest up once more.


    ¡°Because, imagine the hot water you¡¯d be in if I alerted the guards.¡±


    His patience was growing thin, and my eyes widened at his threat. With a huff, I threw the vest to the ground and began walking back towards the palace.


    ¡°He really did tell us not to let you help, you know.¡± The eunuch said as he began following me back inside.


    ¡°I wish you all would stop lying!¡± I groaned.


    He looked at me with growing concern, as if I¡¯d been the victim of memory loss or a severe concussion.


    The eunuch followed me up until we reached the back porch of the palace, and I turned to look at him once more. ¡°What is your name, anyways?¡± I asked. A growing sense of familiarity clawed at my chest, as my mind was forced to recall Idris; the eunuch compared in no way to my childhood friend, but his ability to reel in the wanderlust I experienced reminded me of him.


    ¡°Pavel.¡± The eunuch replied.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Pavel was soon the only person in the palace who bothered to speak to me. He¡¯d come to visit me during the day when Shahin was out on business for tea, and we¡¯d chat idly about different topics. He was a great companion, offering me the shoulder I so desperately needed to cry on. The Duke was often dismissive of me, or downright mean. I had begun sleeping in my old room again, after arguing back and forth with him so often. When I told Pavel of the experiences I¡¯d been having with him, he was at a loss for words.


    ¡°Have you tried doing things around the palace, regardless of the servants¡¯ objection?¡± He finally asked, breaking the silence as he contemplated Shahin¡¯s behavior.


    I let out a flustered sigh, nodding my head a few times defeatedly. ¡°I have, and if Shahin notices he demands a servant fix it.¡±


    ¡°Maybe there¡¯s a garment of his you could fix?¡± He proposed.


    I scoffed at the proposition.


    ¡°So that he can tell me it¡¯s done wrong? I¡¯d rather not.¡±


    Pavel sipped his tea and made another suggestion, his voice carrying a hint of desperation. ¡°I doubt he¡¯d fuss over it. You¡¯d be going out of your way to repair his clothing. Does he have anything he can¡¯t wear anymore due to a hole? Possibly shoes that need fixing?¡±


    I had to think for a moment, but my mind fell on a robe Shahin wore a couple of years ago. It made him look ethereal, with its golden embroidery and white silk base. I nodded weakly, considering the option.


    ¡°An old robe, yes¡­¡± I replied.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Before long, I was in Shahin¡¯s anteroom, fetching a sewing kit that the maidens used to tailor his clothing. Something inside me didn¡¯t feel right as I realigned the broken seam, and pinned it in place. I took out some white thread, poking it through the eye of the needle and threading it after the second try. My mind couldn¡¯t help but think.


    What if? What if? What if?


    What if he¡¯s a Lutrov, Hala?


    I had to rub my eyes harshly to stop the internal questioning, finally bringing the needle through the hem of the sleeve and sewing it back together. Centimeter by centimeter, the sleeve returned to its original state. I had done a beautiful job, and it looked like it had when I¡¯d first seen him slip the robe on at 16. Proud of my work, I chose to sit on the bed and wait for him to come home. My thumbs traced over the hem, smiling at it fondly as I hoped my husband would finally take notice of my desire to please him¡ªto keep him happy. If Tayir had seen me in such a state, she may have hit me with her shoe.


    The door to our room opened, and Shahin looked at me warily. I smiled at him, holding the robe up slightly for him to see.


    ¡°What is it?¡± He asked softly. ¡°You don¡¯t spend time in here like you used to¡­¡±


    ¡°I fixed your robe, Dear. I thought you¡¯d want to wear it¡­it always looked so nice on you.¡± I said, offering a small smile.


    He walked in, towards the bed, and took the garment. With an attentive eye, he looked at the sleeve before setting it back down. As he changed into the robe, he pulled the sash comfortably around his waist and brought the sleeve up once more.


    ¡°You fixed this for me?¡±


    I smiled at him as I saw how he looked in the robe¡ªa real angel. His dark hair and eyes contrasted the light colors of the robe, and as he traced his thumb along the hem he smiled, too. I watched the smile fade, as he pinched the seam and burst it back open before my very eyes.


    ¡°I beg your pardon?¡± I said, hardly audible to myself, or Shahin for that matter. A scowl replaced his smile, and he looked me in the eyes again.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have. I much preferred it the way it was.¡±


    I was shocked. My mouth hung open as I processed what had just happened, looking from the sleeve to his scowl. Quickly, my temper rose again.


    ¡°I went through all of that trouble¡ªdo you know how difficult it is to sew such fine silk without leaving holes?¡± I asked, my voice still quiet and laced with sadness. There was a bitter edge to my words as I looked back at the burst seams. I tried to reach out and take the sleeve, but he yanked his arm away from me with scorn.


    ¡°I think you¡¯d be best going back to your room.¡± He scolded.


    With a pained expression, I stood from the bed. I had so much I wished to say to him, but my mental capacity had been shot from the last few days¡¯ arguments. I sighed and looked at him one last time, feeling my chest tighten with upset as he threw the robe to the floor and changed into different clothing.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    When I mentioned the encounter to Pavel, his eyes widened in awe at the story. He almost didn¡¯t believe me, needing to place his tea down on its saucer to fully process the events that had taken place. He rubbed his chin, deliberating the situation as muttered under his breath a bit, rubbing his eyebrows and sighing heavily.


    ¡°You¡¯re telling me he ripped the seam again, just because you fixed it?¡± He finally asked.


    ¡°Yes, Pavel, the man tore it right in front of my very face. I¡¯m certain now that he hates me!¡± I whined, putting my face into my hands.


    Pavel was good enough at distracting me for the time being, switching subjects after I cried a few tears, bringing up a few myths that were rumored to take place in Otlak. At first, I argued against indulging in such childish stories; but Pavel insisted that they were true, and the origin of the region¡¯s religion. Stories of humans turned into supernatural beings, cursed or blessed because of a deed they¡¯d done at some point in their life. I found myself whisked away by the stories, asking about the different beings and what deeds they¡¯d done in life. The most mortifying of the stories seemed to be about a red eyed man who was cursed by his own land. The man was King of a prosperous region, but his greed overran him. He wanted too much power, too quickly, and the Powers That Be bestowed a curse upon him¡ªhe was never to feast again, at least not upon food. Sorrow was his only food source, and he was meant to wander the earth to feed on the sorrow humans felt. He still lurked in the shadows to this day, supposedly, somewhere in the depths. He spoke in a cacophony of whispers and screams, and could make you feel so alone you¡¯d rather feel death than such sorrow.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    Pavel warned me that giving in to sorrow meant feeding the so-called Child of Calamity, and his story served as a reason to focus on the positive things in life¡ªto not give in to greed or selfishness. His story brought me some comfort, and helped me keep a tight leash on my sadness. As I made eye contact with Pavel again, I swear I saw Idris¡¯ eyes looking back at me.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    The night before my 19th birthday, I wore the finest robe I owned that fit Shahin¡¯s taste. A black, loose fitting garment with green and gold embroidery of stars and the moon. It was chilly, coming up on the tail end of Spring¡ªsomething I¡¯d grown accustomed to over the years. Shahin invited me to eat dinner with him for the first time in weeks. He¡¯d spent an especially long time at Tavuk¡¯s palace, aiding the people of Otlak by tirelessly working on a cure for a recent sickness that had taken the lives of many in the east as it traveled to the innermost city. That night, he seemed especially tired and distant as he played with his food more than ate it. Occasionally, he¡¯d offer a half-smile at me when I looked at him¡ªand I couldn¡¯t help but feel my stomach churn. I barely touched my food, despite barely eating at all over the past few weeks in general.


    Depression had planted its seeds in my chest, and by now the roots were taking claim of my ribs and lungs. Each day felt like I was waking up to bricks on my shoulders, begging me to stay in bed and away from everyone. I felt especially stir-crazy at dinner, wishing I could just fix a couple of things in the room and work in the kitchen to make the night easier on Shahin. I owed him so little after the robe incident, but I wanted him to give me the same exuberance he¡¯d given me as a teenager.


    I cleared my throat as I played with the salad on my plate.


    ¡°Shahin¡­about the palace¡¯s tidiness¡­¡± I began.


    Shahin rubbed his temple in response, and I steeled me resolve to push on.


    ¡°The servants are adamant that you told them I¡¯m not allowed to clean.¡±


    ¡°And as I told you¡ªI never said such things.¡± He said shortly. His words were rugged, and heavy with exhaustion.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I concurred. ¡°And I was wondering if there was a way to dispel such claims. Could you tell them that I¡¯d like to help again?¡± I asked.


    He cut his eyes at me before speaking again, watching me as he pushed his fork into a cherry tomato. ¡°I think it¡¯s best to let the servants do their job, Hala. You¡¯ve asked me to do this before, and I tried. I think it¡¯s quite clear that they prefer to not have you butting in on their duties.¡± His words had an edge to them, as if I¡¯d asked him to fetch me a rare jewel from the mines.


    ¡°Shahin, I need to do something around here. I can¡¯t just sit around and do nothing all day. Please, at least let me have something I can take care of.¡± I begged, lacing my fingers together and bringing them to my chest. I was desperate. I was so, so desperate to have a shred of peace to cling onto. I missed speaking to Uyum and Melodi; I missed learning cooking tips from Madam Denge, I even missed Shahin teaching me how to play piano. I missed home. I wanted to feel at home somewhere, with even an ounce of free reign.


    ¡°Do you not find joy in taking care of your rabbit? Perhaps we can get you another one to take care of.¡± He proposed.


    I wanted to cry, and scream, and shout at him to give me something more than a damned rabbit. I thought of Father, and how he¡¯d look if he learned I cursed my husband the way I wanted to in that moment. With a shaky breath, I replied to him.


    ¡°No, Shahin, I¡¯d much rather contribute to the palace¡¯s appearance. Could I have a patch in the garden to myself, maybe?¡± I had to use all of my willpower to keep my tone level.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think we have room in the garden, Song Bird.¡± Shahin replied, sounding apathetic at best. My heart sank deeper into my chest as he spoke, with the pet name making my face contort in pained sadness. I slumped my shoulders in defeat, ready to go to bed for the night.


    ¡°Okay.¡± I muttered, standing from the table. Depression¡¯s roots dug deeper into me at that moment.


    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± Shahin asked. ¡°You¡¯ve thrown your fit and now you¡¯re leaving?¡±


    ¡°Fit?¡± I questioned innocently. ¡°I¡¯ve thrown no such thing. Are you alright?¡± My voice had more of an edge than I¡¯d hoped, and I could tell Shahin was bothered by the delivery of my question as he furrowed his brows. His fork clanked against the plate as he set it down.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he scoffed.


    ¡°But answer me this: Have I not made you happy?¡± He asked,


    ¡°I¡¯ve been blessed to have you as my husband.¡± I replied, keeping my tone level once more. I stood rigid beside my chair, watching him with my hands laced together in front of me. The anxiety of confrontation welled in my chest, while the seeds of depression rooted deeper.


    ¡°Why do you ask me for so many things, then, my love?¡±


    He took a stand from his own seat, taking a few steps closer to me and watched me like a hawk¡­


    He¡¯s a Lutrov, Hala. Idris¡¯ words rang in my head. I shook the thought aside, as my breathing grew more rapid and my heartbeat grew faster.


    ¡°I don¡¯t mean to be needy, Shahin. My apologies.¡± I answered, my voice growing quieter. For the first time, I didn¡¯t speak with confidence. I was unsure of my words. He grew closer, and closer, until he was looking down at me.


    ¡°Do you? I feel myself growing plagued by your incessant whining and complaining.¡± He said, looming over me with what little height he had. His words grew more vitriolic as he spoke.


    ¡°Lord Shahin, are you sure you¡¯re alright?¡± I asked, taking a small step back with my voice just above a whisper. Shahin gritted his jaw as I repeated the question, and closed the distance I¡¯d just created.


    He¡¯s a Lutrov.


    ¡°Do you think I¡¯m a bad husband?¡± He asked threateningly. I took another half step back, which he closed again. His eyes bore into me in a way I¡¯d never seen, and my heart skipped a beat in the worst way possible.


    ¡°You¡¯ve done well as my husband, Lord Shahin.¡± I tried to reassure him.


    ¡°Then why have you moved much of your clothing from our room?¡± He questioned, his posture more viper than human.


    ¡°I thought you¡¯d want more time to yourself, is all.¡± I explained quietly.


    ¡°And why would you assume such things?¡± He interrogated.


    ¡°You¡¯ve¡­been distant lately, Dear.¡± I replied, keeping me voice steady. It felt like I was quelling a wild beast, trying to keep it from eating me alive. ¡°You no longer hold me at night, nor are we intimate.¡±


    He tilted his head in a way that was more predatory than anything. I wasn¡¯t wrong¡ªhe¡¯d barely touched me over the last four months. His lovemaking was more painful than pleasurable, pinning me in place and leaving bruises on more than one occasion. I kept my eyes locked on the fireplace between the rooms as it crackled, the flames swirling violently.


    ¡°Have you stopped to wonder if you¡¯re properly fulfilling your duties as a wife?¡± He hissed.


    I spoke defensively, pushing back against such a question with what little courage I had.


    ¡°M¡¯Lord, you won¡¯t allow me to do anything I¡¯m supposed to do as your wife.¡± His eyes narrowed on me once more, and his face fell to a scowl. Just as a loud pop came from the fireplace, he lurched for my hands as I yelped out in shock. For a split second, my face flashed with fear in front of him.


    He¡¯s a Lutrov.


    ¡°I told you¡ªI¡¯ve made no such demands to prevent you from doing things around here.¡± He snapped as he shook my wrists. Being handled so roughly, and so suddenly sent a shot of adrenaline coursing through my body. I looked him in the eyes, confused by his tight grasp on my wrist and furrowing my brows at him. I knew by now that he was lying, and his manipulation was sending me over the edge. The issue was so small in the grand scheme of things, that I was more distressed by how such a topic sent him flying off the handle so quickly.


    I spoke in a low voice, ¡°Then you need to make sure your workers know as much.¡±


    ¡°Someone in this situation is lying, and it isn¡¯t me.¡± I added.


    Shahin¡¯s grasp tightened around my wrists, and I struggled to break free. I looked in his eyes, and in a swift movement he raised his left hand and lowered it. A smacking sound reverberated through the room, and I didn¡¯t know what had happened until my vision returned and the metallic taste of blood twinged my tongue. My entire skull hurt¡ªnot just my head, and a tingling sensation traveled down my right temple to my chin. I took in a panicked, shaky breath and tried not to scream.


    ¡°Did you just hit me?!¡± I asked, trying to pull my hand free from his grasp to touch my cheek. He leaned in closer, his hot breath hitting my face.


    ¡°I¡¯m no liar.¡± He growled.


    I couldn¡¯t control my mouth.


    ¡°Then why hit me?! An honest man is above violence!¡± I yelled, triggering him further. His left arm clamped around my right bicep, and he released my wrists. My first instinct was to try and run, but his hands were too strong to escape from.


    I stumbled over my feet, and would have fallen to the ground had he not held my bicep so tightly. The only thing keeping me from hitting the floor was his talon-like grasp as he dragged me to the bed.


    He¡¯s a Lutrov.


    ¡°Have you no couth?!¡± Shahin yelled, tossing me down unto the bed and keeping me there by the hand on my left arm. I tried to free myself again, cursing as I struggled.


    ¡°Have you no mind?!¡± I yelled in response. When I looked at him again, his eyes seemed more black than brown from the shadows in the room. The man I thought I loved was gone¡ªreplaced with a Fiid.


    ¡°You just hit me, and you expect me to be calm?!¡± I continued. He swung his right arm back this time, and I braced myself as my chest nearly exploded from the adrenaline and anxiety within me.


    `My vision went black again as my head spun¡ªanother smacking sound reverberating through the room. I let out another cry, wailing as the pain shattered my skull.


    Lutrov, Lutrov, Lutrov.


    His smile never matches his eyes.


    Be careful.


    I had never felt such fear until that moment, this time the strike was even more painful¡ªeven more dizzying, than when he¡¯d hit me with his left hand. My shoulders trembled unwillingly as I regained my vision, making eye contact with him once more.


    ¡°If you ever call me a liar again, you¡¯ll find yourself sleeping in the old barrack building.¡± He hissed.


    His grasp loosened, and my arm stung from his fingers¡¯ strength. As I fell back on the bed, I raised my hands to my eyes and wiped the tears that wouldn¡¯t stop coming. I rolled onto my left side, slowly forcing myself up with the right arm he¡¯d just let go of. Each centimeter up caused radiating pain through my arm, as sobs slipped from my lips. He watched me with such rigid posture, I thought he was going to strike me again as I stood from the bed. With chagrined eyes, I watched him for a moment as I backed out of the room. The door closed quietly behind me, and I put my hand over my mouth as I rushed back to my room.


    On my 19th birthday, I did nothing but cry in bed and look at the bruises forming on my arm and wrists. I thought about Mother and Father; Fatiha, Himaya, Asil¡­.and Idris¡­I felt humiliated¡ªthe daughter of the Mighty Al¡¯Namir, reduced to tears and unable to fight back against a man with such little height on her. Had Father just taught me simple self defense, had Asad taught me more than how to put on that stupid, heavy armor, maybe I¡¯d have been able to prevent him from hurting me. Maybe I¡¯d never have married him to begin with. No one visited me that day, not even Pavel.


    Shahin left on business the next day, and I cried to myself again. Pavel stopped by, and we had tea as he listened to me cry over missing my family. I could have told him about Shahin, I could have done something to stop the Duke from escalating the problem any further¡ªbut I didn¡¯t. He retold me the story of the Child of Calamity to calm me down, and snuck some cake into my room from the kitchen as a source of comfort. I was thankful to have someone in that moment, especially someone as kind as Pavel.


    When Shahin returned from business, I was called to his room. It was two weeks after I turned 19, and I stood in front of his door for a long time before opening it. When I peered into the room, I saw it illuminated by another fire. A shudder crawled down my spine, as I watched Shahin reading a novel. I slipped into the room, looking at him hesitantly as I spoke.


    ¡°You called for me, Dear?¡± I said quietly.


    Shahin stood from his chair, smiling deviously. His eyes met mine, watching me with the same attentiveness as he had the night that he first struck me.


    ¡°I was beginning to wonder if you lived here at all, Song Bird.¡± He cooed as I crept further into the room. He wrapped his arms around my waist, and pulled me in gently. It felt like some sick prank, as he leaned his forehead on mine and looked me in the eyes. If I was none the wiser, I¡¯d think it to be a sign of affection¡ªbut this was a form of intimidation.


    ¡°How has work been?¡± I asked, trying to sound as interested as I could with him staring me down. My body was stiff as a board as he held me.


    ¡°It¡¯s been rather exhausting.¡± He replied.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t help that I¡¯ve gone without seeing my wife for weeks now, Dearest.¡± Shahin said softly. ¡°Especially hearing that you¡¯ve chosen the company of another man.¡±


    My expression hardened a bit, and I pursed my lips. He traced the small of my back with his fingers, watching me like a cat might watch a mouse. I was frozen, staring at him with a blank expression for a couple of moments.


    ¡°I¡¯ve merely been giving you some much needed space, Darling. The eunuch has simply been visiting for tea.¡±


    I took my aim and hoped my shot in the dark stuck with him. It was the truth, there was no elaborate scheme about Pavel¡ªhe was a eunuch. There was nothing to have an affair with. His face dimmed, and his eyes twitched a bit as he studied my features. Slowly, his hand traveled up my back, and over my chest. It crept back around, reaching for the base of my neck and squeezing it gently. My chest grew tight. I wanted to run. A smile played at his lips, and I felt his hand press me; he was guiding me. As we made it to the bed, he pushed down on my throat to get me to sit¡ªI obliged.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you think it odd for a married woman to meet with another man?¡± He asked me with downcast eyes. His free hand met my thigh, traveling up it slowly.


    I felt his cold hand through the robe I wore, and I grimaced.


    ¡°Not when the man is infertile.¡± I replied bluntly.


    The Duke looked at me like he¡¯d spit on me, and I tried to scoot back. He closed the distance between us, gripping down on my thigh to keep me in place. His hand moved to the front of my throat, as he used minimal force to urge me to lay down.


    ¡°Darling¡­can¡¯t we do this another time?¡± I asked, a hint of distress in my voice as his hand moved up my thigh and explored my body. I could have spat on him. I could have bit his hand that was around my throat as it moved up to cover my mouth.


    ¡°This simply can¡¯t wait.¡± He smiled wider as he spoke, his eyes mere obsidian in his sockets.


    I could have cried that night, but I laid in bed beside the Duke blankly after he realized my body wasn¡¯t going to do anything for him. He hugged me tight, as a child would their teddy bear when they were pouting¡ªand I¡¯d never felt like such an object in my entire life. Every time I shifted, he firmed his grasp around my waist and pinned me in place.

 Chapter 8: Idris

    No one told me that four years was how long it would take for me to become court-able. After Hala left, Namir and Asad pushed me past the limits with my training¡ªafter I spent six months skulking like a stray puppy. It took a year and some change for me to learn how to handle Asad¡¯s armor without falling over myself, and another two years to be able to handle Namir¡¯s devastating blows from his tonfas. I could feel each strike, shuddering and rippling into my core, as if he were trying to knock out the Fiid that had crept into my body when she left. And part of me still believes it was a Fiid that had taken control over me during those six months. I was mean. Worse than mean. I¡¯d become an outright prick to anyone who mentioned Hala around me, getting chastised for it several times when Jamila conveniently brought up a funny little story from our childhood during a nobleman¡¯s housewarming party.


    I was insufferable, spitting venom and frothing at the maw over such petulant things; the only reason I stopped snapping and biting at people with my words was because Asad finally had the bright idea of plopping me into the ring with Namir. And part of me wondered if these training lessons were as much a release for him as it was an endurance test for me.


    My chest was heaving, sputtering for the tiniest bit of oxygen after being slammed to the ground. I hadn¡¯t the time to take my tunic off before Namir began our first sparring session of the week. The cotton from my shirt was suffocating me, even more than the blow I¡¯d just taken, making my skin feel as restricted as my lungs. No matter how hard I willed my breathing to cater to my requests, each breath I tried to draw in was returned by my chest forcing it back out. And the sun beating down on me in the middle of the summer with that damned tunic on made me feel like mutton being smoked alive, wool and all. Despite being breathless, it felt like my sternum was going to burst, and I couldn¡¯t get to my feet if my life had depended on it.


    In, out out out.


    In, out out out.


    It took almost twenty minutes for me to get a few breaths in and out on my own.


    ¡°Get up, Skwayar.¡± Namir barked.


    It was going to be a bad time. I didn¡¯t even have to hear him speak; I could tell by how the gargantuan man squared his shoulders as I walked into the sparring ring moments ago that he was having a difficult day. His eyes¡­they could sear into me, like a ray of sun through a prism. I laid there, looking up at him in a way I¡¯m sure made him feel nothing but disgust. He clenched his jaw, loosening a breath, and tightened his grip on the tonfa in his left hand. I shot up in response. Namir was always able to scare the shit out of me, it didn¡¯t matter if he was trying to swoon me into going to a social gathering, or tan my hide over speaking too casually with a noble. The King¡¯s presence alone was daunting, enough so that I had to master keeping a straight face within my first year living in the palace. His head cocked to the side as he inspected me and my miraculous recovery, in a way nothing short of predatory, and his eyes narrowed on my poor stance. Namir in the sparring ring was a completely different entity.


    ¡°Too wide. Shoulder¡¯s length, boy.¡±


    I adjusted my feet. Shit. He was right. I felt my center of gravity become stronger, more fortified, as my feet became parallel with my shoulders. It was only a few centimeters, but it made all the difference in combat. A few centimeters is the difference between life and death on the battlefield. In a swift movement, I freed myself of the shirt that was about to make me roar out in rage. Soft fabric felt like steel wool on my forearms and chest. In the seconds between the shirt meeting my eyes, and coming over my head, I felt another blow to my abdomen. A familiar gasp came from the other side of the sparring ring. I almost fell again, but my feet were firmly planted in the ground. When I finally realized what happened, Namir was smiling.


    ¡°Better.¡±


    I loosed a breath, feeling my diaphragm cramp from the pain his tonfas had inflicted, and he withdrew the baton from my stomach. I made my move. Foolish, but just foolish enough for him not to see it coming. I felt my hand make contact with his wrist, and bend it in on itself until I heard the closest thing this beast would ever make to a yelp. His left hand cocked back, tonfa tight in grip, and I side-stepped it as I readjusted my hand on his wrist. Thank God. The tonfa in his right hand fell. I almost chuckled. He grunted with dissatisfaction before I felt a slam into my nose; cold, hard metal striking it with such brute force it could take down a Yellow Meranti. I had to stifle my groan as I scrambled to regain my senses, my vision blurring as sparks of white floated in and out. I didn¡¯t clutch my nose, I ducked. I knew the next blow to come would have been for my stomach, and if I¡¯d been any slower I¡¯d have gotten that same cold metal to the forehead.


    My head was still spinning, but I had to move, move, move. On the battlefield, there aren¡¯t timeouts. There aren¡¯t breathers. There are only strikes meant to hinder, and strikes meant to kill. I had to think. My vision finally returning from its vignette state, I looked around. Nothing. Nothing but a shitty old chain and sickle sat in the far side of the ring. Behind Namir. I cursed under my breath as I realized the lesson for today: lure your enemy away from the one thing you need to escape captivity, or kill them entirely. I had kept my eyes on the sickle for too long, because Namir had begun stalking towards me in that menacing way. Like a tiger, sauntering to its killed meal, he got closer and closer. A glimmer shone in his brown and green flecked eyes, like a fire cracking and releasing embers as he saw my mind working out its plan.


    ¡°What will you do, Skwayar?¡± He asked as his grin grew wider.


    His taunt only served to enrage me more as my nose throbbed. The sound of my heartbeat thumped louder and louder, roaring with the thundering anguish my face was feeling. I had to breathe. I looked from Namir to the sickle once more, and back to Namir as I thought.


    I was going to do what I did best: run. In a breath¡¯s time I was bolstering towards Namir, and he readied his fighting stance. I had one shot to do this right, to properly execute my plan; or get another tonfa to the face. My knees hit the ground just under a meter from him, and I slid so far I was rather impressed. I went under his right arm, past him, and towards the chain and sickle that lay before me. In another swift movement, I was up and running. I had the weapon within my reach, a hair shy of grabbing it when I felt my neck jerk back as Namir¡¯s tree-trunk of a forearm subdued me, slamming me to the ground once more. How was a man this big so fucking fast?


    I groaned in pain, feeling the earth shift beneath me. If the folklorish creatures I¡¯d read about existed, he¡¯d be one of them. He¡¯d be a Blessed One, with the size of a mountain and ferocity of a panther. Powerful enough to shatter worlds with the snap of a finger, and bury kingdoms beneath the pits of the earth¡¯s chasms. If he were a folklorish being, he¡¯d have been sang of and depicted in theatre plays I¡¯d have no business being a part of. In comparison, I¡¯m nothing more than a Fiid, sucking the energy out of those around them. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    I knew by the look in Namir¡¯s eyes that he could see the self-defeat in my expression. The fire in his eyes dimmed a bit, as he offered a hand to help me up. We spent many days like that: with him in a sour mood, beating me senseless, only to soften when he¡¯d gone too far. Sometimes, his mood was because of things I¡¯d done as an emissary; vitriolic statements aimed at noblemen who treated women like prized possessions, or watched them like hungry animals. Sometimes, his mood was due to missing Hala. I could always tell by his eyes¡ªwhether the green shone in a more amber hue, or dulled in a muted jade amongst the majority-brown outer pupil.


    ¡ª¡ª


    It was a regular occurrence over that fourth year of training for more of the palace maidens to spend their free time watching us. Even when Fatiha came to visit with her sisters, they¡¯d watch me in a tangibly lustful manner. I always felt odd, considering I¡¯d known them since I was ten. They saw who I was as a boy, and it made it even more difficult to comprehend how their demeanors had shifted. They once looked right past me, and now here I was¡ªbeing gawked at as if I were a noble, myself.


    ¡°You¡¯ve started getting quite the audience, haven¡¯t you?¡± Namir smirked as we entered the sparring ring. It had been so many days in a row of training at that point, that I didn¡¯t have the energy to spit back in kind with a smart ass remark.


    I grumbled, taking my tunic off and hearing a few murmurs. My cheeks grew hotter, and I hoped it could be seen as the sun¡¯s warmth bringing a flush to them. In a matter of minutes, we were sparring. It was so fast that I had a hard time keeping focused, partially due to the whispers of the sisters and another familiar voice¡ªone I¡¯d heard so many months before when I¡¯d tried taking that wretched sickle from behind Namir. Jamila. Her voice was no longer mocking in tone, but sultry and thick with desire. She didn¡¯t keep her voice down when talking to the tradesman¡¯s daughters.


    ¡°I truly don¡¯t understand why he keeps ignoring me.¡± She whined.


    A whisper just audible enough for my ears to catch spoke up: Fatiha. ¡°Maybe because you went out of your way to make Al¡¯Hala¡¯s courting process a living Hell?¡±


    I bristled before Jamila¡¯s voice rang through the air once more, one of Namir¡¯s tonfas landing on my upper ribs. ¡°I did no such thing.¡± She replied.


    I had to keep my attention on the task at hand: don¡¯t get the shit beaten out of me. Side step his right, duck when he cocks back for the left. Get behind him. Try to aim for the pressure point. I had stopped listening to the conversation by now, bobbing and weaving Namir¡¯s attempts to hit me. I knew he could hear the conversation, and I wasn¡¯t entirely sure what distracted him enough to elicit him turning his head towards the girls. I made my move, striking the pressure point at his neck with my right hand and watching his left arm go limp. He looked at me over his shoulder, both impressed and pissed off.


    ¡°Don¡¯t go thinking you have me beat.¡± He chuckled.


    In the same heartbeat, he swung around and his right arm was coming for me at full force. Side step. Miss. I didn¡¯t have to duck this time, so I made a blow of my own¡ªone of few I¡¯d ever managed to land on the beast of a King before me. His abdomen was stronger than platinum itself. Paired with my growing strength, the reverberations of the punch sang into my bones. I gritted my teeth and forced the fist deeper into his gut, I heard the closest thing to a groan of pain from him in that moment. Namir actually stumbled a bit¡ªwhether for show, or truly sent off balance. My eyes widened reflexively, and I sent my right fist into his stomach, driving even more force into the blow. This was the first time I¡¯d seen Namir falter in training; I didn¡¯t care whether he was doing it to help me impress these women or not¡ªI was going to go all out to claim victory.


    I hammered my fists furiously into the man, as if he were that Duke. The same man who had sent us countless letters in response, saying that Hala was doing well¡ªthat she was happy. She never came to any Socials, never came to birthday parties Namir held for me; never came to reunions for Namir and Haya¡¯s wedding anniversaries. I was more than angry¡ªI was outraged. Hala wasn¡¯t the type to miss such events, and the only thing I could do about it was send my anger into this training.


    ¡°Skwayar.¡± Namir said, his voice low and threatening as he stumbled further.


    I didn¡¯t care. I was sending myself full-throttle into my swings, and seeing Namir lose his footing was satisfying. He must have noticed the distant look in my eyes as I ruminated on Hala¡¯s absence, because once he regained sensation in his left arm I could only see the world spinning as my back slammed into the earth beneath me. The pain wasn¡¯t as paralyzing as it had been when he and I first began training, I actually let out a laugh. Namir¡¯s eyes were serious as they bore down at me, until he heard the laughter. They softened, and he shook his head as he let out a breath of his own laughter.


    ¡°Do that to a member of the Sixth Battalion, and they¡¯d be done for.¡± He smirked, releasing a tonfa and offering me a hand to stand up. I took it, brushing off my pants and snickering at the comment.


    ¡°I¡¯d be honored.¡± I replied, a glimmer in my eyes.


    The women who has been watching us fell silent, nothing short of breathless at how we sparred. I looked over to them, purposefully making eye contact with Jamila as I smiled. If she was going to play dirty, I would as well.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    After training, I made my way back towards the Grand Building. I always walked with more purpose after letting off some steam. I thought I was alone, hearing nothing but my own footsteps as I walked down the paved path. Until a familiar voice called for me.


    ¡°Idris!¡± The voice crooned.


    I rolled my eyes before turning around, balling my shirt up in my hand. ¡°What is it, Jamila?¡± I asked, annoyance lining my voice.


    ¡°I just wanted to say hi, Themaz.¡± She replied. I almost crawled out of my skin. Never did I want to hear her call me that.


    ¡°Hey.¡± I smiled facetiously, shrugging a bit as my hands waved.


    ¡°You seem so tense lately¡­is everything alright?¡± She asked. Was that¡­genuine concern in her voice?


    No. She was being a two-faced harlot, and I had to play along in order to play her game. I had two ways to play this interaction: a grief-stricken young man who missed his first friend, or a stoic and brooding asshole. I eyed the book she had tucked between her arm, recalling Fatiha telling me about it a few weeks ago. A romance, where the love interest was a harsh man with little regard for others until meeting the main character.


    ¡°Life can¡¯t always be masterfully written, Jamila. I¡¯m still upset over the past, is all.¡± I said, lifting my gaze from the book to her eyes. I wore as mournful an expression I could muster, maybe even showing some of the true pain I felt.


    She was a pretty girl, but her personality was enough to make me want as little interaction as possible¡ªunfortunately for me, her brother was still a member of the Sixth Battalion despite her father¡¯s treachery. She looked at me with what may have been pity, as she gripped the book tighter to her chest. I walked back a few steps before she spoke up again.


    ¡°If you ever grow tired of the past, and need something to look forward to¡­you know where my family lives, Idris.¡±


    God, I wished I could earn a new name already. Not that I¡¯d brought the topic up with Namir, or anything, but I still hated my name with a passion. I shrugged, loosing a breath.


    ¡°Your company is as soothing as fish brine.¡± I said, offering a teasing smile as I turned back around. I made my way towards my destination, hearing her footsteps dissipate behind me. Maybe one day I¡¯d bring up how much I disdained my name.

 Chapter 9: Hala (TW)

    It would be a cold summer night that I sat cross stitching to compartmentalize the events of the last three months. The events leading up to now made me miss home more than ever, wondering endlessly why I hadn¡¯t received a single letter from Mother and Father. I wondered if Fatiha was happily married, yet; how her sisters were doing, and even hoping Jamila was happier than I was. I¡¯d tried to think as little about Idris as possible, but any blue thing that crossed my line of sight reminded me of his eyes. I was lucky that the sky remained as grey as I felt¡ªelse I¡¯d look up at the sky and be reminded of him. I remembered his teasing tone so often, it was a blessing to dream of it instead of the past three months¡¯ encounters with Shahin. I sat, humming a lullaby from Mahsul as the fireplace crackled. I hated the sound of fire by now, but the house got so cold without one going. As I finished the green of a Camellia leaf, I heard my door click open. My eyes rose from the Aida, and met Shahin¡¯s.


    Lutrov, Lutrov, Lutrov.


    The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I observed his face¡ªhe had been drinking, that much was apparent. It was long past midnight, and I thought he¡¯d gone to bed by now after a business meeting. His face was stone cold as he approached my bed.


    ¡°Darling, would you come with me?¡± He asked, his voice eerily calm.


    Run, run, run.


    I stood from the bed, as he offered a hand out to me. I laced my fingers in his, feeling a slight warmth pulling through them. Something was wrong. There was a problem somewhere. His hands were never this warm, even when they clamped onto my wrists during his violent throes of sex. The Duke began leading me through the palace, with not so much as a floorboard creaking as we made our way to the marble flooring of the library. The clicking of Shahin¡¯s boots echoed through the hall as he opened the door to the deck, and I walked outside. The winter chill made my body tense, and I instantly wanted to go back inside. Every time Shahin looked at me, he seemed ready to pounce.


    Lutrov, Lutrov, Lutrov.


    I steeled my resolve as he took my hand again, seeing my own breath as he lead me through the garden. I hadn¡¯t grabbed a shawl, or any shoes before coming out, and I felt the cold numbing each limb but the fingers in his hand. Otlak had freezing nights¡ªeven in the summer months; I¡¯d seen snow pile up on our window panes this time last year. He walked me far past the phosphorescent fungi, towards the dilapidated shack in the back of the property. I tried to steady my breathing, praying to God that mercy would be had upon me. I couldn¡¯t bear any more loss of vision, or bruises. If I could go back, I¡¯d have kicked him in his family jewels and ran as fast as I could¡ªsomewhere into the woods, to find that Child of Calamity Pavel had told me about¡ªbut I walked with Shahin holding my hand, instead. Just as we stopped before the old barrack building, the urge to run was about to fire. Before I knew it, I¡¯d been knocked out cold.


    I awoke in a fury, trying to sit up and take in the darkness surrounding me. My limbs were held in place, as something kept me secured to whatever I laid upon. The surface was cold against my robe¡ªa table? My fingers were numb, and so were my toes. My face was burning, and I shivered violently as I turned my head around thrashing. There he was; Shahin, standing before me, cloaked in shadows. His smile was the only thing I saw in the darkness, as he stepped closer.


    ¡°Shahin.¡± I barked. ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡±


    I sounded more like Father in that moment than ever, trying to contain his temper and failing miserably. I slipped tongues back to Otlank, repeating my question as I tried to free myself from the restraints.


    ¡°I¡¯ve learned some new tricks, Dear. I¡¯d like you to answer some questions for me.¡± He said.


    I furrowed my brows in response, his cryptic answer was just as distressing as the truth. With each second that passed, my fingers and toes grew colder. The possibilities of what Shahin was planning sent me into a blind panic.


    ¡°Tricks? This is hardly a trick. What do you want?¡± I swear I was yelling, but I¡¯m sure I was barely above a whisper as I spoke. I tried jerking my arms free from the ropes, to no avail. My chest was hurting, so badly it felt like I¡¯d stepped into the mountain range further East.


    ¡°Tell me.¡± Shahin began. ¡°Tell me what you¡¯ve been doing with that eunuch.¡±


    I almost lost it, Shahin¡¯s obsession with Pavel was more enraging than panic-inducing. My mind raced with things to say. I could only muster the truth.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been having tea with him and talking. That¡¯s all.¡±


    Wrong choice.


    Shahin chuckled darkly as he took out a small blade from his pocket, and I wriggled furiously to try and free myself from the restraints. The possibility of him slitting my throat open became a reality, and I tried to scream to the best of my ability.


    ¡°Is that it?¡± He asked as the knife sliced into my robe. I felt the cold air truly hit my back, and what little warmth I had fled from the cloth that shielded me from the elements.


    ¡°I¡¯m beginning to feel like I¡¯m not being shown enough love, Blisovnyiy.¡± His words were sickeningly sweet as the term of endearment left his mouth, as I felt a burning sensation prick at my back. Something warm, that became colder than the chill in the air formed on my back as I watched his pupils dilate and constrict with pleasure. Blood. I was a mouse under a cat¡¯s claw.


    ¡°Yes, Shahin! That¡¯s all! Nothing is happening!¡± I shrieked. I watched him with as pleading of an expression I could muster, whimpering as the ropes burned my skin with each wriggle.


    ¡°Please, Dear, this isn¡¯t right.¡± I returned to a hushed tone.


    If I could just reach his sense of humanity, if I could just get to him¡ª


    The tip of the knife moved my robe aside now, and pressed into my back a bit harder than before. I froze in place, horrified.


    ¡°Shh¡­¡± Shahin cooed. ¡°Just tell me what happened, and we can work past this, Song Bird.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing that happened, Shahin! Please!¡±


    The knife made its first incision, and I screamed out, I was sure of it that time. I yowled louder than an injured tigress, as the stinging sensation traveled through the incision.


    ¡°Shahin¡­!¡± I roared, clenching my fists in pain. ¡°You can¡¯t do this! What of my Mother and Father?! What if they find out about this?!¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°Your Mother and Father¡­?¡± Shahin asked mockingly, making his second cut with a smile as he drew away. ¡°They told me I could do with you as I please, Song Bird. Your Father won¡¯t be saving you, and your Mother is much too fragile to do anything.¡±


    The second cut was worse than the first, making me scream even louder as the burning went deep into my spinal column. I wanted to run, I wanted to cry, I wanted to throw up. The pain was so bad, but I wasn¡¯t freezing anymore. The pain was consuming me. Making my body hot and sticky as sweat pilled on the back of my neck. He was wrong. If Father saw what Shahin was doing to me right now¡ªthat bastard would be as good as dead. I kept screaming until the pain died down, until the sobbing began.


    ¡°You¡¯re hurting me, Beloved¡­!¡± I choked out. ¡°Please¡­stop!¡±


    I knew better than to call him a liar. That would be a surefire death wish. I wanted to reach a part of him somewhere, anywhere, to make him stop¡ªto make him lose interest.


    ¡°All you need to do is tell me he¡¯s been fucking you.¡± Shahin proposed as he met my eyes again.


    I furrowed my brows, feeling my anger as hot as it could go. I¡¯d never felt so insulted, so belittled, and disgusted in all my life. Jamila couldn¡¯t come close to this¡ªnothing could come close to this pure rage within me.


    ¡°He can¡¯t fuck me, imbecile.¡± I spat, my voice hoarse and thick with emotion.


    Wrong answer.


    Three more burning sensations littered my back, and I screamed out again. Shahin chuckled at the sound of my screams, and I tried once more to free myself. I screamed as loud as I could, praying someone could hear me.


    ¡°If only you¡¯d tell the truth for once in your goddamned life.¡± He muttered, cutting into the second laceration again.


    I fought the restraints again and again, feeling my wrists and ankles begin to burn as badly as my back did.


    ¡°This is wrong, Shahin! You have it all wrong!¡± I yelled as I struggled.


    ¡°Do I?¡± Shahin asked as he drew away, seeming to admire the injuries he¡¯d given me. ¡°I told you not to call me a liar.¡± He hissed as he plunged the knife down once more.


    Desperate, exhausted cries left my mouth¡ªand I could only repeat a single phrase in my mind.


    Fakhlah Torazeh.


    This is Torture.


    I couldn¡¯t remember how much time had passed¡ªminutes, hours, seconds all bled together as I was tied to that table. The interrogation quickly turned into a test of my limits, and my body was¡ªunfortunately, very resilient. I sobbed and wailed as the broken boards of the building whistled with the wind, and the small voice in my head repeating that phrase over and over again also wondered how Shahin was even capable of withstanding the cold for so long to carry out such acts. It felt like next Spring should have come at that point, I¡¯d been suffering and agonizing for so long.


    ¡°You¡¯re too beautiful to be so disgusting, Song Bird. It¡¯s quite sad, really, how worthless and disposable you¡¯ve become to me.¡±


    ¡°My next slice will be along this¡­nerve¡­¡± He instructed, tracing the second cut he¡¯d made along my lower back. ¡°Since you¡¯re not even worth fucking to bear me an heir¡­¡± he muttered.


    I could barely muster half a plea from my mouth as the knife plunged into my once more. He leaned down to look me in the eyes again¡ªjoy. There was genuine joy in his eyes. Something I¡¯d never seen, even in the three years of happiness we¡¯d shared together; nights we¡¯d spent making love in what I thought to be a genuine bond between two souls. I was mortified¡ªwhat if he was right? All those years ago, he¡¯d discussed those nerves on our trip back to Otlak when we wedded. He knew the anatomy of my back better than any doctor, and in my mind: that man had just taken my ability to produce an heir. I mourned both my innocence, and my fertility in the same cry as he cut into the same spot. A violent jerk of my arm came from that slice. He whispered words of vitriol to me as he continued.


    ¡°Your body is wretched. If only you could see how pathetic you look right now.¡±


    ¡°You may have a beautiful face, but I¡¯ll make sure each man who sees that horrid body of yours knows you belong to me.¡±


    ¡°Struggling only makes it worse, Song Bird.¡±


    ¡°With a face like that, I¡¯d enjoy to see how you¡¯d react to paralysis.¡±


    Fakhlah torazeh, fakhlah torazeh, fakhlah torazeh, fakhlah torazeh.


    I didn¡¯t care anymore. The pain was so bad I could hardly cry out anymore, my throat was dry and rougher than sand paper. I was over it, I was over living at that point.


    Finally, Shahin stepped back and cleaned the knife in his hand off. I shuddered with pain and horror, as he untied me. I wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball, to warm myself up¡ªbut moving was pure devastation at that point. He picked me up by the hair, and I yelped out once more as he barked at me.


    ¡°Walk. You¡¯re fine.¡±


    I had to walk. I had no choice. One step, and another; one foot, in front of the other. One tear, and another rolled down my cheeks in silence as I tried not to fall. My knees were so weak by the first quarter of a meter that Shahin held my hair wadded in a fist as he supported most of my weight. Everything hurt. My breathing sputtered as we made it in, and my robe was a tattered mess. It must have been the cold air, because the blood on my back had dried by the time I¡¯d made it to my room. I was amazed that he hadn¡¯t struck any major arteries, as he all but threw me in.


    ¡°Strip.¡± He spat. ¡°And sit on the bed.¡±


    He left me alone in the room, and I fell to the ground as I shook violently. Strip? Strip? I could hardly move, and he expected me to strip? I wanted to know what kind of sick fucking fantasy he was playing out in his head as I began to pull each half robe off of my body with heavy limbs. It felt like I¡¯d slammed into a wall at superhuman speed, and topped it off with high-end liqueur as I moved my arms to finish peeling the clothing from my arms. I fell into the bed, there was no sitting for me.


    Time moved slowly until Shahin returned, carrying a pail of water as he leaned over me. I felt him check my neck for a pulse¡ªBastard¡ªbefore he started wiping my back off with a rag from the water. Each dab from the cloth felt like another slice in my back, but I was too exhausted to cry or fight back. As he wiped, I managed a raspy cry as my shoulders shuddered.


    ¡°Why would you do this?¡± I asked through tears.


    ¡°To hear my little Song Bird sing, of course.¡± He replied in the sweetest voice I¡¯d heard since our wedding.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Six years. Six long years, I endured the agony of Shahin¡¯s abuse. He starved me, and sliced into my back like some prisoner; I was nothing more than butcher¡¯s meat to the monster. I was stupid. I was such a stupid girl to believe I¡¯d been in good hands when I was shipped off with him. I was even dumber for believing that it was his way of showing that he loved me. His voice, so sickeningly sweet when he demeaned and belittled me, was the only thing keeping me conscious.


    ¡°How does it feel? Being so worthless and pathetic for me?¡±


    ¡°I see you¡¯ve grown to enjoy your punishment for being a disgusting little whore. Won¡¯t you sing just a little for me?¡±


    ¡°Seeing you look so frail makes me wonder if you¡¯re even related to Al¡¯Namir. If only your Daddy could see you now.¡±


    ¡°Is it blood, or are you just excited to see me, Song Bird?¡±


    Butcher¡¯s meat¡ªa sex toy, no difference. I was his to play with, to break and destroy. The worst part was my enjoyment of it¡ªthinking that love was shown by brutal pain and torture. I could never look myself in the mirror during the day, now a husk of my former self. I didn¡¯t want to see how gray my face was, or how thin I¡¯d become. I knew that whatever looked back at me wasn¡¯t actually me¡ªit was a ghost, a Fiid, a damned wretch; but it wasn¡¯t me. It was Shahin¡¯s Thing. I slept most days, even through Pavel trying to visit me. On the rare occasion that I was awake, I managed to stumble to the door and curse him away. I broke several expensive vases that way, and was punished tenfold for it. I felt so bad, both for being so mean to Pavel; and from my body¡¯s condition. The different pains would pull my attention at different points of the day; my stomach would hurt from hunger, distracting me from the back pain¡ªthe pain in my ankles would distract from the hunger; the pain in my back would distract me from that; and the pain in my back would distract me from the pain in my ankles. My body screamed for help more than my voice box after the first year, and I hardly screamed anymore.


    The pain became meditative, I was at its will¡ªit had complete power over me. The pain of Shahin¡¯s psychological abuse was worse than the physical abuse, at times. What would happen if Father ever saw me? Would he cry, and kill Shahin¡ªor was it as Shahin said; could he do whatever he wished with me? Was I truly as disgusting as he said? A whore? I knew I was worthless; unable to bear any children meant no heirs, no heirs meant no worth. I was stupid. But I wasn¡¯t that stupid.


    The comments wormed their way into my sleep¡ªwhenever I actually slept. Nowhere was safe, and that¡¯s why I just laid in bed anticipating the sun setting. I grew accustomed to the danger of my life fading, and it was the only thing making me feel alive.

 Chapter 10: Abyad

    The trip to Zarvan was Hell. Complete, and utter Hell. I took our best horse, and even with her speed¡ªshe was having trouble trudging through the dunes separating the lands. Sand raked across my head with a ferocity I¡¯d never felt, scratching my hands and any exposed ankle as the wind blew viciously. I couldn¡¯t take a Wanabi Camel, they were far too slow and aloof. I needed to be on high alert for bandits and grave robbers. The runes along the way were buried to near-nothing, but mousey men were known to travel in packs trying to unearth their treasures. I wasn¡¯t looking for anything of the sorts¡ªnor was I dumb enough to bring any valuables with me on the way. I had brought enough food for the three-week journey, and plenty of water on my horse¡¯s back. So long as no bad actors crossed our path, I would be golden.


    Old stones¡ªonce pieces of palaces and libraries; homes, and places of worship, jutted out from the sand as Riah tried to keep her pace. The winds were their own beast, and I¡¯d prepared a specially designed mask for her to wear to keep the debris from lodging into her eyes. I had wanted for ages to visit Zarvan¡¯s library¡ªthe oldest in existence. The tales of knowledge hidden between their shelves were told to me on an almost weekly basis by Iirshad, and his dying wish was for me to seek out the knowledge that we had left undisturbed. To form relations with the Kingdom we¡¯d been told had been wary of our very existence. I couldn¡¯t just ignore the man¡¯s wish¡ªhe was my mentor, one of few in Mahsul I¡¯d have trusted with my life. I confided in him numerous times that something was wrong with the letters we¡¯d received from Otlak, and his responses were always cryptic.


    ¡°God is watching her, wherever she is. I have no question that she¡¯s alive and¡­¡± he trailed off, looking at me with a knowing grimace.


    That statement was one of few he left me with before dying, and I didn¡¯t like it. His throat bobbed as he¡¯d said it, and I knew he wasn¡¯t insinuating that she was alive and well. So, off to Zarvan I went. There weren¡¯t many villages to stop at along the way, and if there was one nearby; it would be hard to tell by the sandstorms raging through the lands. I couldn¡¯t have chosen a worse time to begin my journey.


    I tightened the scarf around my face, feeling the sand pelting into it and stray grains falling through the hole showing my eyes. I wondered if the Zarvin people did this regularly, or if they had a more practical way to get back and forth between the Kingdoms. Part of me understood why they rarely showed up to social events, trekking through all of this was cumbersome to say the least.


    Each day was a chore with the scorching heat, and the nights were almost as freezing as Northern Otlak. I had to force myself to get up each morning, with my throat so dry it felt like I¡¯d swallowed the sand that never stopped bombarding me. Riah was an absolute champ through it all, I couldn¡¯t have been prouder of handling such a horse.


    By the end of the second week, I had made it to their jungles. The winds had subsided, and my vision was no longer the same shade of beige. Instead of dry, crisp air, the oxygen filling my lungs was humid and dense. Having made it further than I had planned, I laid eyes upon the river I needed to cross. The first few feet Riah strode, I felt the warm water as it clung to my clothes. It felt like I¡¯d been coated up to the hip with oil once we made it to the shoreline. I set up camp there that evening, tying my horse to a nearby palm and lighting a fire. I reached into my knapsack, taking out an orange to peel as I crouched beside my fire. Just as the citrus-y smell filled my nostrils, I heard four sets of footsteps drawing closer.


    ¡°Mahsulians in these parts are rare, aren¡¯t they?¡± A serpent-like voice hawed in Mahsulah.


    ¡°Quite¡­and one with such a build¡ªare you a warrior?¡± Another man asked me.


    I turned around from my knapsack, looking the group of men in their eyes. Four of them, all of different sizes, looked back at me with interest. I inferred the initial voice to belong to the leader, a man wearing breathable, yet high-status clothing and gold rings around his knuckles. The second man to speak seemed to be the large one, more fat than muscle.


    ¡°You could say that.¡± I replied, adjusting the wrap on my face. ¡°I have no dhebals.¡± I added. I knew better than to offer food¡ªit would be an insult.


    ¡°What brings you to our lands?¡± The man wearing the rings asked. His dark brown eyes glimmered in the moonlight. I could tell he wasn¡¯t quite foe yet.


    ¡°I come in search of knowledge.¡± I replied, loosening my shoulders. If I appeared too tense, it could bring suspicion. Riah let out a soft snort, her tail flapping, as if agreeing with me. She watched the men with the same tired wariness as I.


    ¡°The library?¡± The leader asked.


    I nodded in agreement, and he smiled. The whites of his teeth were the most distinguishable feature in the darkness, his cheeks were mere flashes of glowing ebony. I had never really interacted with Zarvins outside of their emissaries, and their culture was shrouded in secrecy. I had no idea whether he was smiling in amusement, or antagonism¡ªbut I didn¡¯t sense hostility from he or his men.


    ¡°It¡¯s difficult to get in there, you know.¡± The man continued. ¡°They¡¯re not going to let just anyone in.¡±


    ¡°I come with no ill-will.¡± I assured him. I didn¡¯t want to mention, yet, that I had the Mahsulian Imperial Crest in my breast pocket. ¡°I have matters to tend to that require further investigation beyond Mahsul¡¯s libraries.¡±


    The man hummed, bringing his ringed hand to his chin. His smile stayed, as he took a few steps closer. Once the fire illuminated him, I caught a glance of his features. He was handsome, with a flat nose and high forehead. The smile he wore was kind, his full lips parting slightly. As he took another step forward, the gold rings in his locked hair glimmered in the firelight. He was no bandit, most of the bandits in the area were Otlakian and Mahsulian; men trying to find riches for their families. The man before me was already rich, with little need to venture into the deserts to find such troves. Since he¡¯d revealed himself in the light, I figured I may as well offer my own features in kind. I reached my hand slowly towards the back of my head, untying the black and white scarf I wore and showing him my own face.


    ¡°My name is Al¡¯Namir Abyad, Strategist of Mahsul.¡± I announced, looking at the man with conviction.


    He studied my features, lingering on my eyes with piqued interest. ¡°Itunu Niwaju, Prince of Zarvan.¡±


    My eyes widened in shock, taking in the man once more. He was befitting of the title, carrying himself with a feline-like sense of grace. His long limbs and sturdy build told me he was more than capable of fending off a threat from his people, and I instinctually bowed out of respect.


    ¡°Rise.¡± Itunu laughed. ¡°There are no such customs in Zarvan for royalty.¡± He reassured me.


    I rose.


    ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to finally meet you, Your Highness.¡± I said, bringing a hand to my heart. He laughed once more as his men came closer¡ªtaking a seat by my fire. I was intrigued at how quickly they changed, from men ready to ward off a grave robber; to men representing their country.


    ¡°The pleasure is all mine¡ªour emissaries have told us about you.¡± He said in a melodic voice. He studied my appearance once more, probably noting the shabby clothing I wore. ¡°I see you took note not to stand out as a subordinate of royalty.¡± He japed.


    I smiled at him, nodding in contempt. ¡°Indeed, I can¡¯t go wearing my finest garb on a three-week journey, can I?¡±


    ¡°Why not? It could bring a few good opponents your way.¡± He drawled. ¡°I hear you¡¯re quite the fighter.¡±


    ¡°Al¡¯Namir is a ruthless trainer.¡± I replied.


    Itunu chuckled and nodded, approaching me and clapping a hand to my shoulder. His firm grasp was nothing but friendly. ¡°My men and I are stationed on guard duty at the outer limits, there¡¯s been talk of strange occurrences in this pass.¡± He told me. ¡°Did ya see anything on your way here?¡±


    I cocked an eyebrow at him in curiosity. ¡°No, what do you mean?¡±


    ¡°The sandstorms have grown more violent lately, and travelers have rumors of some¡­thing¡­stalking the dunes. You saw no such thing?¡± He asked.


    I shook my head, the only thing I¡¯d seen along my journey was Riah¡¯s mane and the walls of sand that blew against us. ¡°No, Sir, only sand.¡± I replied.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    Itunu shrugged, letting go of my shoulders. He stepped to his men, sitting beside the large man that spoke before as he pulled an apple from his pocket.


    ¡°Then these travelers are heat-exhausted buffoons, I suppose.¡± He drawled, switching to Zarvanian and taking a bite from the apple. His men chuckled, joking amongst themselves.


    ¡°Perhaps they really saw something.¡± I said, switching tongues myself. Itunu looked at me with an amused expression, his eyes alight with joy. ¡°And what do you think they saw?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Possibly the same thing I¡¯ve been in search of.¡± I replied.


    ¡°That is?¡± He asked, looking at me with the same feline amusement.


    ¡°The Child of Calamity.¡±


    Itunu narrowed his eyes on me, though his smile didn¡¯t falter. I scratched my nose, leaning against Riah. As Itunu looked at his men, they burst out laughing once more. It felt like a small eternity, the roars of the men¡¯s laughters sent the rest of the jungle into silence.


    ¡°You jest, surely.¡± Itunu said after he and his men¡¯s laughter quieted. I watched them with a calm face, despite my growing annoyance.


    ¡°I don¡¯t.¡± I stated


    His face grew more serious, as he became stiff in posture. Itunu¡¯s men looked at each other, then to Itunu before he spoke again. The crickets had begun chirping again.


    ¡°The Cursed Ones are long lost to history, Abyad. No longer do they roam our realms¡ªI doubt they¡¯re the creatures we¡¯ve heard of from travelers. Even if you find one¡ªwhat are you going to do with them? Become friends?¡±


    I bristled at his words. I knew it was a long shot, a pipe dream, to hope to find such beings. They were nothing more than folklore, and I was hanging onto the one shred of hope I had.


    ¡°Al¡¯Hala¡­what do you know of her husband?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Little. I hear he¡¯s a man good with words, and even better at manipulation.¡± Itunu replied with questioning eyes.


    I nodded as he spoke, taking out a notebook I¡¯d brought along for research once I¡¯d made it to Zarvan. ¡°Do you think him to be a good man? Have you met him?¡±


    ¡°No. I find him insufferable, but we are a people who reserve judgement until given reason.¡± Itunu replied. I wrote that in the notebook for my own ego, more than research.


    We sat for a long while, discussing Otlak and their political state. It seemed that while Zarvan maintained a friendly relationship with the Northernmost Kingdom, they had their own reservations towards the country. When I explained the circumstances that led to Hala¡¯s betrothal, Itunu tweaked a brow at me as insult lined his face.


    ¡°He threatened that we¡¯d cut trade with Mahsul if we found out about Thueban attacking him?¡± He asked.


    I nodded, crossing my arms to soothe the anger that welled inside of me whenever I ruminated on the topic.


    ¡°Foolish¡­I can¡¯t believe your King fell into such a trap.¡± He stated bluntly.


    I would have found insult in his words, but his tone was empathetic. He opened his mouth to speak again, but paused. The jungle had once again fallen silent, but this time it wasn¡¯t caused by laughter. There was someone, something closing in on us, and I watched our surroundings with hawk-like focus. The only other time my surroundings had grown so silent was when I¡¯d been sent to a cave on the outskirts of Otlak, to fetch a berry for pharmaceutical purposes. There had been reports of odd things in the forest surrounding the cave, just as I¡¯d now discovered odd sightings in the dunes between Zarvan and Mahsul. We kept our wits about us, looking at one another with terse expressions every few heartbeats. It seemed like just as quickly as the jungle had gone silent, the crickets began chirping and lemurs began chattering again¡ªas if discussing what they¡¯d just seen lurking within the wilds. I loosed a breath, taking my hand away from my side where a concealed dagger lay.


    ¡°A tiger, maybe?¡± The large man asked Itunu.


    ¡°No¡­Tigers don¡¯t smell of sulfur.¡± Itunu replied.


    I hadn¡¯t even noticed it, the rotten smell that filled my nostrils. Pure sulfur. My eyes traveled the surroundings once more, trying to catch a glimpse of something out of place, but falling upon nothing in particular. I looked back to the Prince, my body still tense with adrenaline.


    ¡°Should we get going, then?¡± I asked.


    Itunu nodded once, and his men stood. They crowded around him as he did the same, and I began smothering the fire I¡¯d created. It seemed my journey was going to be rather sleepless, and I¡¯d lost my appetite entirely.


    I was the only one on horseback as we made our way into the wilderness. Riah was more than used to such elements, as I¡¯d taken her into Mahsul¡¯s jungles on numerous occasions. There wasn¡¯t much of a difference, aside from different foliage along the jungle floors. Occasionally, Itunu¡¯s men would have to pull him away from certain plants. He seemed rather fond of the flora, telling me about different leaves and flowers in near-excruciating detail. The most interesting were the blue phosphorescent fungi that trailed a certain kind of tree, illuminating the paths we took as the jungle grew more narrow. Itunu told me that such mushrooms were highly coveted by their Kingdom, a treasure in their own right. As we walked, he went on for ages about how the plant attracted good spirits, and could bless someone with insurmountable karma if one dared eat them. We¡¯d finally reached a point where one of Itunu¡¯s men had to draw a machete to cut the brush down, to make way for all of us¡ªmostly on Riah¡¯s behalf¡ªswinging the blade haphazardly and holding back additional limbs for all of us to make it through. I couldn¡¯t help but notice how Itunu watched Riah with a glimmer in his eye, admiring her graceful traversing of the landscape.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen a horse like her¡ªhow old is she?¡± He finally asked.


    ¡°She must be close to 13 now, I began riding her when I was 16.¡± I told Itunu. He looked her in the eyes, and smiled at her as she moved her head to examine him intently.


    He looked at me with stars in his eyes. ¡°How fast?¡±


    ¡°Fast.¡± I answered, chuckling.


    The Prince of Zarvan was a talkative man, with a kind voice and kinder actions. He was a lovely representative for his country, and when I asked him why he never came to see us in Mahsul, he seemed rather disheartened to tell me about his family¡¯s overprotective nature.


    ¡°Generations ago, we used to attend gatherings held by other countries. A distant relative of mine was nearly assassinated in Strolgia, and his parents barred him from traveling the lands. It carried through the ancestral line, and we just send emissaries in our stead, now.¡±


    I pursed my lips and nodded in understanding, though slightly jarred at how such a thing impacted their family for so many years. Mahsul¡¯s age was nothing in comparison, with only two generations of rulers. Zarvan had at least 10 generations by now, if not more. A small clearing could be seen at the underside of a cliff, a pass?


    ¡°This is the only entry to Zarvan by land.¡± Itunu said proudly as we approached the underpass. Moss and vines clung to the rock, illuminated by dawn¡¯s first rays of light. The bright and deep shades of green were straight from a children¡¯s book, contrasted by the deep slate of the cliff¡¯s rocky material. As we went under the entryway to the kingdom, I was met by tired-eyed men and women waking to tend to their daily duties. The entire cliff had been formed into dwelling areas; opulent ones, at that. Each citizen donned fine clothing, with their hair in protective styles akin to Itunu¡¯s. Occasionally, I¡¯d see a citizen wearing their hair naturally; tight coils let free, drying from the wash it took to style. A practice I was familiar with, myself, considering how I had to wet my hair almost daily to fashion it how I wanted. The citizens who were out and about looked at me in a way I was all too familiar with¡ªI stuck out like a sore thumb.


    I was more than used to being stared at by now; I¡¯d always been treated as a foreigner, even in my own lands. Blue eyes tend to grab the attention of those who don¡¯t see them on a daily basis, especially when paired with tawny skin and near-black hair. Al¡¯Namir gave me my new name based on my qualities¡ªa fervor for survival despite the odds I¡¯d faced, and my appearance:


    Al¡¯Namir Abyad ne Mahsul.


    The White Tiger of Mahsul.


    It was an honor to be given a title similar to Namir¡¯s, as if I were truly his own son. But I¡¯d never truly come to accept it. I¡¯d grappled with my birth status since the day I¡¯d been dragged into the palace by Asad when he found Hala and I on the beach, though over the years it became easier to digest. Still, when being ogled by Zarvin people, I felt like they could tell I was nothing more than a peasant that had been handed privileges I had no right to.


    I had to make an effort to focus on the destination we were headed towards, as Itunu and his men led us down a declining path. It seemed like we were headed towards a cave, secured by guards, until I noticed the light that shone through the center of the underground cavern. On the ground floor sat a pond of pure azure; the dawn¡¯s light glowed on it, dancing as the waters shifted with the breeze that traveled down the central hole acting as a skylight. The scene before me was beautiful, to say the least. The men securing the entrance eyed me with caution.


    ¡°He¡¯s with me.¡± Itunu reassured them. I smiled softly to the guards, offering my most humble expression. They looked at each other, and then back to Itunu before nodding and allowing us entry.


    The grotto was wondrous, with beautiful foliage and vines lining the walls and ground. The air was crisp, and clean, as if untouched by man entirely. I wished I could show Hala the sights my eyes were taking in, and sensations my body felt. My heart lurched at the mental image of Hala¡¯s face as she took in the surroundings. I loosed a breath, continuing on towards a small entryway with two more guards at the entrance.


    ¡°Who is he?¡± A guard asked.


    ¡°Mahsul¡¯s own Al¡¯Namir Abyad.¡± Itunu replied with a smile.


    The men looked at me and their eyes widened in astonishment. ¡°All the way from Mahsul¡­?¡± The other guard asked.


    I nodded, speaking up with a calm tone. ¡°I come in search of advice, with deepest respect for your country and people. I¡¯d like to see your libraries, if you¡¯d allow it.¡±


    Itunu nodded, as if reassuring the guards that I had his permission to enter the athenaeum. I took the imperial crest of Mahsul from my breast pocket, offering it to them as proof of my status as both an emissary and Strategist. Once they saw the crest, they allowed me in without another word. I was surprised at how welcoming they were, and was most certainly expecting more of a back and forth. The Prince led me into the library, the smell of old papyrus filling my nostrils.


    ¡°I hope your kingdom will return the favor, should Zarvan ever be in need of aid.¡±


    That was all Itunu said before he turned on his heels and left me to my own devices in the library, his men falling in line with his steps. Alone in the library, save for a few scholars, I made haste to find what I was in search of.

 Chapter 11: Abyad

    Each morning I awoke in a haze, unfamiliar with the surroundings of the small inn I¡¯d managed to swindle my way into. The inn-keeper seemed very familiar with Al¡¯Namir, and upon laying eyes on the Imperial Crest I brought he was happy to give me lodging for no cost. I balked at the inn-keeper at first, thinking he was going to at least make me pay some lodging fees, but when I offered to do maintenance around the property he gave me a hardened expression and insisted I stay for free. I couldn¡¯t help but feel as though fate had, once again, given me good favor with no reason.


    In the library, I spent my time unfurling old scrolls and translating books. Old recounts of Kings long passed, their cultures, and different wars that were recorded consisted of a majority of the contents within the tomes I came across¡ªa few poems, and articles about Mahsul¡¯s founding piqued my interest. Most of the articles were positive, though the poems I¡¯d found were written in an older dialect of Otlank, scornful of Mahsul¡¯s creation. I tried to decipher many of them, but I stopped mid-way through. There were few people who came into the library, Itunu was right. They didn¡¯t allow many people in aside from scholars and priestesses. I couldn¡¯t help but wonder what the Prince meant about returning the favor. Maybe he was letting me into the library prove something to me, to Mahsul. Zarvan wasn¡¯t enemy territory, and I planned on relaying that to Namir once I got back. Their people were kind, with much to give and little to hide.


    My second night of residing in Zarvan, I was all but dragged by a couple of women to a festival being held by the townspeople. Their white and gold robes had been switched to amethyst and silver, as the streets were decorated with the same phosphorescent fungi that Itunu had told me about¡ªhow they¡¯d managed to transport the mushrooms without killing off their luminescent properties was beyond me. The Kingdom that sat within a cliffside was bustling that day, as children ran by each other and parents chatted. Women of upper-status wore their hair in intricate braids, adorned with similar cuffs as Itunu wore in his locs. As I freed the grasp of the young girl who had brought me to the heart of the festival, I smiled at the sight before me. Lanterns accompanied the fungi, their yellow light contrasting the blues from the mushrooms. Spices and herbs filled my nostrils as older women cooked, accompanied by their husbands as they did the heavier labor of stirring the large pots.


    As I was contemplating approaching one of the groups to try their food, a woman¡¯s voice called out from behind me.


    ¡°Abyad!¡±


    I turned around and laid eyes upon one of the most beautiful women I¡¯d ever met. Clearly a noble, by the metal woven into the delicate braids she wore, she smiled at me. Her brown eyes reflected the lantern she was close to, and I couldn¡¯t help but tweak a brow at her knowing my name. She moved her hair over her shoulder and waved for me to come closer¡ªI wasn¡¯t one to turn down the company of such a stunning woman.


    ¡°You¡¯re the man from Mahsul that my brother found, hm?¡± She asked.


    My eyes widened, and I saw the resemblance in that moment. Her nose was just like Itunu¡¯s, broad nostrils and a deep slope. Her eyes were a bit more upturned, but they were so similar in appearance that I almost kicked myself for not realizing right off the bat. She even carried herself with the same elegance the Prince did. I smiled at her and nodded.


    ¡°How did you know?¡± I asked in a playful tone.


    ¡°You don¡¯t come across looks like yours in Zarvan naturally, and rumor has it that a blue-eyed man was snooping in our library.¡± She replied, swishing her drink in her glass as her smile widened.


    ¡°Are they truly that blue?¡± I asked as I opened my eyes a bit more and let her look at them. She came closer and examined my face for a moment, I could have sworn a light blush flushed her cheeks. She drew her lips together as she smiled now, and I couldn¡¯t hold back my own smile from growing wider.


    ¡°They might be more grey.¡± She teased, drawing back an inch.


    I chuckled at her, bringing my arms to my chest as I looked back to the crowd.


    ¡°It¡¯s not fair that you know my name, and I don¡¯t know yours.¡± I said, offering a sidelong glance in her direction.


    ¡°Abeni.¡± She told me. ¡°Abeni Niwaju, Princess of Zarvan.¡±


    I offered an over-exaggerated bow to her, ¡°An honor to meet you, Abeni.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t do all of that!¡± She chided in a hushed voice, amusement lining her tone. ¡°I don¡¯t need it.¡±


    I laughed as I rose from the bow, crossing my arms once more and shrugging. ¡°Is it wrong to show respect to royalty in your Kingdom?¡±


    ¡°Nothing of the sorts, we merely don¡¯t make a scene of our presence.¡± She replied, ¡°If you do that in Mahsul, it¡¯s fine¡ªbut here, you¡¯re in the company of equals, not elites versus commoners.¡± She added.


    I eyed her clothing, similar to the robes the regular citizens wore and nodded. My eyes lingered on her hair once more.


    ¡°The braids are tradition, and nobility braids the hair of the commoners as the night goes on. Each braid is woven to bring a wish to life.¡± She explained, noticing my gaze.


    ¡°Is that what the festival is for, then?¡± I asked.


    ¡°No, the festival is to celebrate Zarvan¡¯s founding. You managed to come at an interesting time, you know.¡± She smiled.


    ¡°I guess I did¡­¡± I replied, awe in my voice. Children danced with each other to the sound of stringed instruments being played, a whimsical melody for them to let loose to. There were no records of the country¡¯s founding dates in Mahsul¡¯s libraries, this truly was just happenstance.


    ¡°Who braided your hair?¡±


    ¡°Itunu did.¡± Abeni replied. I was impressed to hear such an answer, knowing it must have taken a good chunk of the day to fashion each individual row into their stitched sections.


    ¡°He did a great job.¡± I told her, meeting her eyes once more after the music paused. Her bashful smile was endearing, and I was right¡ªshe had a light hue of pink on the apples of her cheeks. ¡°Are you two close in age?¡± I asked.


    ¡°We¡¯re twins.¡± She replied, smile still intact. ¡°I¡¯m six minutes older though.¡± She winked. I couldn¡¯t help but let out a breath of laughter.


    ¡°What brought you to our library? Itunu said you were searching for information on the Child of Calamity¡­¡±


    My chest tightened, reminded by my purpose of being here. It wasn¡¯t to enjoy a festival, it was to find out the true whereabouts of my friend. I hugged my arms a bit tighter to my chest, and Abeni¡¯s smile fell a bit. She knew she¡¯d hit a sore spot.


    ¡°Al¡¯Hala hasn¡¯t contacted us, herself, in almost seven years.¡± I admitted, my hushed voice laced with bitterness. ¡°All we¡¯ve gotten are letters from Duke Markovni¡­something about it doesn¡¯t feel right.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± Abeni said, placing a hand on my arm and squeezing gently. Her eyes were filled with pity. ¡°Maybe I shouldn¡¯t have asked¡­¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s okay.¡± I reassured her. ¡°I know it¡¯s a little far-fetched, but I have this hunch¡­perhaps the Cursed and Blessed Ones exist¡­perhaps there¡¯s one I could ask to help uncover whether she¡¯s truly okay¡­¡±


    Abeni¡¯s eyes softened, as she leaned in to look at me. ¡°Don¡¯t you know those Cursed Ones are devils?¡± She asked concernedly.


    ¡°I¡¯m willing to roll those dice.¡± I told her, steeling my resolve.


    I wasn¡¯t unfamiliar with the tales of the Cursed Ones, they always asked for deals. Some of the recounts Iirshad had given me spoke of humans offering their own life, but those were scenarios of higher stakes. I had concepts of deals to strike with the Child of Calamity. If he asked for my life, I would find a different Cursed One to barter with.


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    ¡°You¡¯re crazy, is what you are.¡± Abeni said.


    ¡°You can¡¯t be sane to be a strategist.¡± I smiled.


    Abeni shook her head, and retracted her hand. She mirrored me, now, crossing her own arms and hugging them tight to her chest. A familiar voice came from behind us, slurring their words just a bit.


    ¡°Abeni! Getting to know Abyad, are you? Planning to take him back to the palace?¡± The voice japed, clamping one hand tight on my shoulder, the other on hers. Abeni almost spilled the drink she held as he shook her. Itunu reeked of wine, but seeing him so clumsy in comparison to his graceful saunter in the jungle was almost refreshing.


    ¡°You¡¯re such a bastard when you¡¯re drunk.¡± Abeni grumbled.


    ¡°Hey! This bastard has the same parents as you!¡± Itunu replied. I smiled as I looked at him, leaning his weight mostly on me.


    ¡°Have you had any water tonight, Your Highness?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Not planning on it.¡± He replied, smiling. ¡°You do her hair for eight hours and see how it feels, you¡¯ll need an entire barrel of wine.¡± He pointed at Abeni with the hand he had on my shoulder. I felt him stumble a bit as he leaned further on me and laughed at Abeni¡¯s disgruntled face.


    ¡°You act like my hair is a bird¡¯s nest!¡± She snapped, yanking her shoulder from Itunu¡¯s hand.


    ¡°It¡¯s worse.¡± He whispered, his mouth so close to my ear that I reflexively pulled away. Itunu roared with laughter as I looked at him, and let go of me to see others at the festival.


    ¡°If this style didn¡¯t last for so long I¡¯d have his fingers chopped off.¡± Abeni snarked as he stumbled away. I let out a laugh, shaking my head in amazement.


    It seemed like this Kingdom had something Mahsul could take note of: a familial bond between each other regardless of status. There was always such a harsh line drawn between the Nobles of my homeland towards those without. Namir tried his hardest to prevent it from happening¡ªhis marriage to Al¡¯Haya was a statement in and of itself¡ªbut the Nobles were their own beast. I sighed, watching as Itunu made a fool of himself while he danced with children and adults to the now staccato rhythm of windpipes and drums. Maybe a few more generations, and Mahsul would be in a similar state.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    The fourth day in Zarvan was when I finally came across a vein of books I was looking for. Personal diaries, some of which without names, that described plans to take kingdoms down. Mentions of contracts and deals; descriptions of a man whose eyes were red as fresh blood. I felt my heart beat grow faster as I thumbed the pages of a diary written in Old Zarvanian, trying to find a name anywhere. As I scanned the papers, I only saw names whose popularity had died. Then¡ªI found one of a completely different origin: Br¨°n.


    I kept the page open, and moved to the next diary. Ten minutes into scanning the pages and I found the name again. This time, the diary had been written in Strolgian. Another diary: Jagan. Kital. Gorlach. Diaries I couldn¡¯t even translate sat upon shelves in the back of the library, so dusty I was almost amazed that the pages hadn¡¯t dry rotted. Each diary contained the same two names, at least the ones written in languages similar to the living languages spoken to this day. After a few hours, my lungs could hardly stand the stifling air from the wing I sat in. A break. I needed a break.


    The fresh air at the entry of the grotto burned my lungs as I coughed. I had to sit down beside the pond as guards stared at me, eyeing the reflection of my disheveled appearance. I hadn¡¯t managed to shave in days, and my hair was a mess. The circles beneath my eyes proved how comfortable the bed back at the inn was. A deep sigh escaped my lips as I rubbed my face, my head heavy with frustration. Br¨°n. The name was what the Child of Calamity used when making deals with mortals, binding them with contracts according to the books I¡¯d read in my younger years. If I could just find those contracts¡­


    ¡°Still haven¡¯t found it?¡± A familiar voice rang from before me.


    I uncovered my face, looking at Itunu as he stood at the other end of the pond. The midday light set his skin aglow, the fine white silk a contrast to his dark complexion. If I could illustrate the man before me, people would think him to be an angel. I grumbled a bit as I shook my head, looking up at the hole in the roof of the grotto and into the sky.


    ¡°Have you found anything that could help you?¡± He asked further.


    ¡°I think so¡­but they¡¯re just diaries with names tied to them¡­¡± I said breathily. ¡°I can¡¯t translate some of them¡ªthe languages are dead, and no one in Mahsul speaks Frins.¡±


    ¡°I speak Frins.¡± Itunu replied.


    ¡°Would it really help, when I have books in Old Otlank regurgitating the same vengeful bullshit?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps not.¡±


    I brought my head to my hands again, rubbing furiously. ¡°If I could just find proof of his existence besides some old bats¡¯ diaries, I¡¯d be able to get somewhere¡­I need to find the newest one first¡­¡±


    ¡°Let me help you, then.¡±


    I withdrew my hands from my face, eyeing Itunu with caution. ¡°You¡¯d do that?¡± I asked.


    Itunu nodded, bringing his hands behind his back and clasping them as he walked around the pond to my side.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like I have anything better to do.¡± He smiled.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Itunu and I spent a week sorting through that wing of the library, taking down and putting back a maddening amount of books and diaries. It wouldn¡¯t be until we made it to the second-to-last book case that we found a musty box, filled with cobwebs. We had to take our scarves off to cover our mouths and noses as we brought the box out, and once I began emptying its contents Itunu let out a shrill scream. I almost thought he¡¯d found photos of a dead body, but when I looked over at him¡ªhe was on the other side of the room. A small house spider sat on the table where he was standing previously, and I let out a bray of laughter.


    ¡°You¡¯re scared of spiders?¡± I asked as I made the spider crawl up onto my hand. I took a step towards him, and he nearly fell into the book case behind us.


    ¡°Get it away! You never know with those things!¡± He pleaded. I grinned wider, placing the spider down on a shelf a few feet away.


    ¡°I never would have expected a man of your size to be scared of such small bugs¡­¡± I replied.


    ¡°You tell no one of this.¡± He demanded, looking at me with the most serious expression I¡¯d seen on him yet.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    The box contained the proof I¡¯d so desperately been in search of: actual contracts, with names lining up to those in the diaries I¡¯d read. When I looked at Itunu, his eyes were lit with amazement as his hands traced the calligraphy on the contracts.


    ¡°I had no idea we¡¯d managed to snag these¡­¡± he murmured.


    I almost couldn¡¯t believe my own eyes, but Itunu picked the contracts up and went right to work. He studied them each with an attentiveness akin to a master-historian, sorting them by the oldest at the far end of the table and newest up by me at the other end. The most recent contract was written in modern Otlank, though maybe 60 years old. We locked eyes when we read the name fully: Ja¡¯Huysuz Adam. Tavuk¡¯s grandfather, and Late King of Otlak.


    ¡°He killed his main advisor?¡± I asked, reading the terms of the contract.


    ¡°And kept his riches for himself, it seems.¡± Itunu replied as he read over my shoulder.


    ¡°How will we know where this contract was made?¡± Itunu asked. ¡°This lets us know the thing exists, but what of his whereabouts?¡±


    ¡°I could think of a couple of places he might be, if the most recent contract was created in Otlak.¡± I replied.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    That night, I went to a tavern with both Itunu and Abeni. Abeni, bless her soul, looked at me with the most pitiful expression when I told her I was leaving the following morning. They tried to convince me to send an emissary to investigate the possible whereabouts of Br¨°n, but I was far too invested at that point. I wanted to lay eyes upon the entity, myself. That cave I¡¯d ventured into just a few years ago was right outside of Shahin¡¯s property, and the idea of sending someone else to scope the place out felt wrong. If he existed, and lived within that cave¡ªI¡¯d have Hala¡¯s whereabouts known in minutes. My plan was simple, and I was nothing but overly-confident that I could execute it flawlessly if I had the right men.


    Itunu looked at Abeni, then to me before grimacing. ¡°I¡¯m going to get some fresh air.¡± He said, standing from the table and walking out.


    ¡°You¡¯re his first friend, you know that?¡± Abeni said with a sharp tone. ¡°He¡¯s concerned about you, and if you lose your life to something we don¡¯t even understand¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine, Abeni. I¡¯ve never been wrong.¡± I tried to convince her with a playful smile, but she looked at me with a solemn expression.


    ¡°All of this for a girl who could be living it up in the lap of luxury?¡± She asked.


    My eyes narrowed, and I leaned my elbows onto the table. ¡°I¡¯ve never been wrong.¡± I repeated.


    Her eyes softened, and her shoulders slumped as she returned my gaze with a pained expression. ¡°If she¡¯s alive, you¡¯ll let us know, right?¡±


    I nodded my head, and she sighed.


    ¡°I won¡¯t lie, I was hoping you¡¯d stay longer.¡± She finally said after a long silence. I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her statement. ¡°I was growing rather fond of you.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± I asked, smiling back at her. ¡°Was there something you liked?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a man of virtue, Abyad. The men in Mahsul are highly revered, and you¡¯ve shown me why.¡± Abeni explained. ¡°If you ever need anything, don¡¯t hesitate to reach out. My Father is looped in on what¡¯s happened to Al¡¯Hala, and plans to send nobles to Shahin¡¯s next gathering to find intel.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t stop my jaw from going slack, surprised by the notion. I quickly hardened my expression and nodded.


    ¡°Thank you¡­if Zarvan ever requires aid of any form, Mahsul is more than happy to help.¡± I replied, looking down at the table. Abeni¡¯s hand touched mine, and we met eyes once more. I could tell she was a truly kind woman in that moment as she smiled softly at me.

 Chapter 12: Abyad

    ¡°Are you sure about this, Abyad?¡± Al¡¯Namir¡¯s voice was hesitant, but clear as a bell as it echoed through the throne room. I nodded my head, my eyes flickering from the King to his brother. They both wore expressions laced with concern, but holding hope. I¡¯d been spending the last two years tracking down that damned Child of Calamity. Two years had also passed since coming home from Zarvan. I was sure I could pin his location, now. The other things that had occurred in that time¡­I brushed off an invisible speck of dust from my shoulder to compose my thoughts, as if also brushing off the memories of the last two years.


    ¡°I¡¯m most certain, Namir. I¡¯ve done the research: he exists.¡± I replied. The memory of Itunu helping me as I unearthed the contracts weighed heavily on my mind.


    ¡°Fine.¡± Namir replied, waving his hand with dismissal.


    ¡°Take the Sixth Battalion with you; where is he now?¡± He asked.


    ¡°If my hunch is correct, he¡¯s in a cave about 15 kilometers from Shahin¡¯s palace.¡± I answered.


    ¡°15 kilometers from his palace?!¡± Namir shouted. His voice resounded through the throne room, and it took everything in me not to jump back at his words. I adjusted my collar, and nodded.


    ¡°Yes, Sir.¡± I replied.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want but three men from the Sixth Battalion for this reason.¡±


    ¡°Are you crazy, Abyad?!¡± Namir exclaimed. ¡°You expect to sit right under Shahin¡¯s nose without any prior announcement, just to find a man you have no proof exists?!¡±


    I cracked my neck, massaging the knot in my right shoulder from training yesterday.


    ¡°He exists, Namir.¡± I replied, fighting an eager smile from spreading across my face. The more I thought about it, though, the smile faded. The man¡¯s existence wasn¡¯t proven, but old contracts I¡¯d found in Zarvan¡¯s library were convincing enough. They were all in a dead language I knew nothing about, only able to translate them with Itunu¡¯s help¡ªif Hala were here, she may have been able to decipher them; then again, if Hala were here, I wouldn¡¯t be in search of this supposed Child of Calamity to begin with.


    ¡°He could be our only hope at knowing whether or not Hala is alive.¡± I persisted, the glimmer leaving my eyes as the worse case scenario was brought to life in my mind¡¯s eye.


    ¡°The boy has never been wrong, Brother.¡± Asad told Al¡¯Namir.


    I hated that he was correct¡ªand if I was always right, then my intuition was telling me that Otlak was a cesspool of danger; and Al¡¯Hala¡¯s life was ticking down by the minute.


    ¡°Fine,¡± said the King. ¡°Take three men of your choosing, and come back home safely.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to lose anyone else.¡±


    I nodded once more before turning on my heels. I was going to make haste, and if I couldn¡¯t convince my men to leave today: I¡¯d find three other men to bring with me. I needed soldiers who could battle the shadows themselves, not that I was anticipating on fighting much. The Child of Calamity was a depressing entity, and if my judgement served me correctly then he was all bark and no bite. There were three signatures on a majority of those contracts, the being didn¡¯t work alone.


    In the years since Hala left, I had done far more than turn over a new leaf. I¡¯d tasted the world, seen the peaks of each Kingdom and the valleys hidden beneath them. The cave we were headed towards was one I¡¯d actually ventured into by mistake once at 21, seeking out a berry hidden in the same woods for Otlak¡¯s pharmaceuticals. Why Shahin couldn¡¯t do it, I¡¯d never know¡ªbut I didn¡¯t feel anything in that cave, which was the biggest seed of doubt I had. I tore my mind from the incessant voice telling me I was wrong as I made my way through the palace. My eyes narrowed on the training grounds, eager to find the men I was in search of.


    The smell of sweat and pheromones filled my nostrils¡ªa challenge. The men¡¯s cries became clearer as I got closer, and I found myself right in front of my first candidate: A lean man who cackled viciously through crooked teeth as he fought. Buma.


    His opponent was a pudgy man, and he stood little chance against my candidate. The chunky man was too cocky; Buma¡¯s erratic movements were entirely unpredictable, just as the man¡¯s temper. I¡¯d gotten to know him when training at 18; Asad was surprised by my quick reflexes when I finally began taking my training seriously, and he matched me up with the middle-aged man to test how fast I actually was. Naturally, I was beaten to a pulp in the first minute. His boney fists were a force to be reckoned with. Buma danced around the pudgy man, flurrying strikes into his gut and back with such ferocity it almost made me cringe. As the man seemed done for, I cleared my throat.


    ¡°Buma.¡± I called as he snickered. His laughter stopped immediately upon hearing my voice, and he tensed at the shoulders.


    ¡°Abyad.¡± He said, his smile wiping off of his face. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were there¡­¡±


    In the blink of an eye, the pudgy man was up and headed towards Buma.


    ¡°You¡¯re coming with me.¡± I said.


    Buma side-stepped the boulder of a man without looking at him, narrowly avoiding the tackle he was aiming to land. Another chuckle left his lips as the man pummeled to the ground, but he grumbled under his breath as he approached me. The homely, lean soldier stood beside me as we walked a bit further down the pathway.


    ¡°What¡¯s this about?¡± He asked. I smiled brightly, knowing pleasantries were above him. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    ¡°I have a mission for you.¡±


    ¡°More important than trainin¡¯ these newcomers?¡±


    ¡°Much.¡±


    Buma crossed his arms, not taking kindly to my jovial demeanor. ¡°Speak up, boy. What¡¯s this about?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re going to Otlak.¡± I announced. His face contorted with confusion as he blocked my path.


    ¡°And what of my family, then?¡± He snapped.


    ¡°They¡¯ll be fine. You¡¯re going to be paid handsomely. I¡¯m bringing two others, come.¡± I said, pushing past him. Buma blocked my path once more, his brows furrowed.


    ¡°Al¡¯Namir has become too lenient with you, Abyad. He¡¯s letting you choose men to bring with him?¡± He asked.


    ¡°He merely approved another of my plans, Buma. The men I want are a part of my plan.¡±


    His temper grew more erratic as he cocked his fist back. I was prepared for this, too. As his fist went flying towards me, I almost ate it for lunch before blocking it. My hand sent reverberations of pain down my arm, as if cursing me. He was one of few people I still struggled to spar with¡ªand his feelings towards me made it difficult to spar with him often. Our next candidate was a sparring circle away, and my expression was hardened with determination to get to him. Finally, Buma scoffed and retracted his fist. I watched the young man keenly as we approached, impressed by his speed and tact.


    In a breath¡¯s time¡ªa blink¡¯s time, he was capable of moving behind his opponents. He faced a stocky man who seemed above average for a rookie, able to dodge Alfahd¡¯s punches occasionally. I called for Alfahd, and his victory was swift. While he may not have had the most refined fighting skills, that¡¯s what Buma and our third candidate were for. Alfahd was my age, and I met him at 20. He was the closest I¡¯d come to meeting someone as innocent as Fatiha¡ªnearly as oblivious, too. Few questions, and few words, just as terse as the expression he always wore. He smiled at me kindly, letting down the walls he constantly held up, and we exchanged greetings before he fell in line with Buma and I¡¯s steps. On the far end of the training grounds, past the most feared soldiers sparring their paired rookies, was a patronly man who was sinewy. At first glance, he looked harmless¡ªbut as soon as he stepped into the sparring ring or onto the battlefield he was a sight to behold. His accuracy was mortifying, well-practiced in hitting a pressure point in a second¡¯s time without fail. The man who taught me how to disarm Namir in the ring. Each rookie that stepped foot into his territory was down in record time, and he took on three opponents in the time it took to reach him.


    ¡°Saerie.¡± I shouted, cupping my hands around my mouth before we made it to the ring. A new young man had stepped into the ring, and I was in no mood to wait. Saerie pulled his attention from his opponent, focusing on me and frowning. Each line in his face became more pronounced, as his gray hair shifted with the wind. He limped out of the sparring ring, and picked up his cane as his eyes narrowed on me.


    ¡°Ya need somethin¡¯?¡± He asked.


    ¡°You, Themaz. You¡¯re coming with me!¡± I said, beaming at him.


    Saerie cringed, and shook his head. He knew better than to argue with me, unlike Buma. Maybe it was the permanently injured leg that humbled him, or maybe it was wisdom. He had more wrinkles than any of us, but his capabilities were still so fine-tuned that his age was unbelievable.


    ¡°Goddamnit¡­¡± he grumbled, walking behind the three of us.


    ¡°You still haven¡¯t fully explained it yet.¡± Buma chuffed. ¡°What the hell are we doing, Abyad?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re checking on Al¡¯Hala.¡± I said simply. The three men froze, and a flashed them another smile. I knew that the moment I¡¯d said anything about her¡ªthey may back out.


    I was thoroughly surprised to see each of the men become misty-eyed; shocked to have been given the honor of such a task. Buma buried his emotion with scorn, looking down to the ground for a moment before his eyes snapped back up to mine.


    ¡°Can¡¯t a single envoy do that?!¡± He asked.


    ¡°We haven¡¯t had an envoy allowed into Shahin¡¯s palace since their wedding.¡± I confided in the men. They looked at each other with suspicion, and Saerie leaned in to keep the conversation private.


    ¡°Do we know if she¡¯s¡­alright?¡± He asked, insinuating the worst as he studied the hand that held his cane.


    I didn¡¯t have an answer for him, and it made my blood simmer. I didn¡¯t like having uncertainty in any of my plans, but I loosed a breath as I replied honestly.


    ¡°We aren¡¯t sure.¡± I replied, devastation lining my voice.


    ¡°Then how the hell¡¯re we getting in there?¡± Buma asked, speaking for the group once more.


    ¡°We¡¯re not. I have a lead on someone who can slip in and out without being seen, though.¡± I replied, my lips pulling back into a mischievous grin. I tried my hardest to hide the doubt nagging at me.


    ¡°A lead¡­?¡± Alfahd asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if ya realize this, yet, but we aren¡¯t exactly the kind¡¯a men you take to hunt down a lead.¡± Saerie said with the ghost of a grimace on his face.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need men of sheer strength, I need men capable of fighting the shadows themselves.¡± I replied.


    All bark, no bite. All bark, no bite. All bark, no bite.


    I hoped desperately we could do this without using force¡ªthe men I¡¯d chosen were fast, not strong when compared to their counterparts. If this Child of Calamity were truly a strong immortal, we¡¯d be screwed, to put it lightly. I just needed men capable of subduing the creature, not killing it. I could do the talking.


    ¡°Huh?¡± Buma asked, crossing his arms.


    Other soldiers on the sparring grounds looked at me and my men with a hint of curiosity as I walked the men towards the stables. The smell of hay flooded my senses, the air thick with debris from horses shuffling about. I approached two adjoined stalls, eyeing two horses of similar stature¡ªthick and brawny chestnut mares whose performance was impeccable on both land and water. I¡¯d gotten to know them in my time hiding from Asad in the stables, when I wasn¡¯t holing myself up in the library. The reins for the mares were heavy, no bit needed for the complacent horses.


    ¡°We¡¯re after a man of myth, boys. Keep your wits about you.¡± I explained as I took the horses from their stalls, reins tightly secured.


    I seized a third stall, handing the two horses to Buma and Alfahd, before opening the door and letting an intelligent mare clop out on her own.


    ¡°Grab that thing some reins!¡± Buma exclaimed. ¡°What the hell do you mean, ¡®a man of myth¡¯?!¡± He asked.


    ¡°You¡¯ll see when we get there¡ªBak here hardly needs reins, she¡¯s smart enough to go without them.¡± I chuckled before tossing reins on the horse for the men¡¯s mental wellbeing.


    Saerie watched the horse with an especially intense glare, taking in her sport-build and intense amber eyes.


    ¡°She¡¯s yours.¡± I said, handing the reins to Saerie. A shudder skittered down his spine as the horse looked at him expectantly,


    ¡°The hell do I get this ¡®un for?¡± He asked abruptly. I shot a sidelong glance at his leg, before bringing the men onwards; keeping the reasoning to myself.


    ¡°I wonder¡­¡± I muttered, bringing them back towards the Grand Building.


    After fetching the final horse¡ªRiah¡ªfrom Namir¡¯s personal stalls, the men looked at me with bewilderment. ¡°Are¡­we leaving right now?¡± Alfahd asked. I looked at them with another charming smile, and I really hoped I didn¡¯t have to go back to the sparring grounds for a moment as they looked at each other. Surprisingly, Buma was the first to hop on his horse.


    ¡°The brat hasn¡¯t written home in nine years, it¡¯s time ta figure out why.¡± He said, plastering a smile over his apparent worry.

 Chapter 13: Abyad

    Several days of travel and snooping proved to be exhausting, but my hunch seemed accurate. Each person we spoke to about the supposed Child of Calamity had the story ending the exact same way: The King¡¯s lands had been burnt to cinders to make way for a monument for Tavuk¡¯s father, and though the land never fully burned¡ªthe being¡¯s sightings picked up not long after its construction 40 years ago. The village closest to a river used for small transport right before the cave held the most stories by word-of-mouth; describing the being as a man whose eyes were red like fresh blood, and spoke in broken Otlank. He seemed to be a ruthless creature, hiding in shadows and relishing the suffering of other living beings. There were a couple of stories about a more compassionate creature of the same description that left us confused as to which side we may get.


    The men and I argued at least once a day about if my suspicions were correct, until we crossed the river and entered the woods. Everything seemed normal enough, as the woodland creatures scurried about the ground and trees. I almost felt my confidence waiver, until we reached a particularly quiet part of the woods. The quietness didn¡¯t seem natural, and I didn¡¯t quite remember it from three years ago¡ªbut the man I was back then was almost entirely different. I probably hadn¡¯t really noticed the quietness that glamoured these parts of the woods, since I placed far less importance on my life than I should have.


    The only thing that pulled me from the deep thoughts of the bitter young man I used to be was the sound of Alfahd as his breathing sputtered. I looked behind me, noticing the man wiping his eyes and holding back sobs.


    ¡°What is it, Alfahd?¡± I asked, slowing Riah¡¯s trot.


    ¡°I just¡­it feels like someone told me that my son died¡­¡± he choked.


    All of the men around me seemed depressed¡ªit wasn¡¯t just me.


    ¡°Men, don¡¯t falter. Stay present.¡± I warned.


    All of us continued walking towards the property, feeling the painful emotions grow stronger as the palace¡¯s rooftop could be seen in the distance. 15 kilometers, we were about that far now. Even our horses seemed to grow more alarmed by the shift in emotions, whinnying as they trotted along the path. It was as Buma¡¯s horse spooked that I laid eyes on it: the cave.


    ¡°Over there.¡± I said, narrowing my eyes on its entrance. It was overgrown, and eerie. I unsheathed my sword as we grew closer, cutting at the brush that had overtaken the entryway.


    Alfahd had to stop his horse entirely, taking deep breaths and talking to Buma about different surroundings and stimuli that filled his senses. Was I really that hardened, now? Was I that hardened, back then? The other men seemed to deal with the energy coming from the cave with a grimace, though not as severely affected as Alfahd. My body was fine, save for remembering the last time I was here. I left the men outside, having taught them the bird call to listen for a few days ago. As I stepped into the abyss before me, a deep sense of alienation overwhelmed me; a thick musk of Hazel filled my lungs, nearly suffocating me. I was unwelcome in my new surroundings.


    ¡°I know you¡¯re in here, wretch.¡± I called. ¡°Do you remember me from three years ago?¡± I asked.


    Stronger, more poignant emotions overwhelmed me as I was reminded of who I was back then. A bitter smile escaped my lips as the being tried to scare me off.


    ¡°Reveal yourself. I know of the lands you overran with greed, and I know of the being you¡¯ve become.¡±


    No response.


    ¡°I know of the contracts¡ªI¡¯ve come to make a deal.¡±


    Bingo.


    I felt the darkness grow heavier; stickier in my lungs, more difficult to walk through.


    ¡°Had I known you¡¯d be back, I¡¯d have brought a housewarming gift, Illuminated One.¡± A cacophony of voices tormented me, trying to intimidate me. They sounded as if they were screaming and whispering; laughing, and crying.


    ¡°I have two new titles now?¡± I asked facetiously.


    ¡°I sense the darkness in your heart, human. One step down the wrong path and you¡¯ll be as doomed as I.¡± The voices told me.


    ¡°I¡¯m not here to discuss my steps in life, Br¨°n.¡± I spoke firmly. The darkness grew even heavier. ¡°I¡¯ve come to make a deal.¡± I repeated.


    ¡°And what have you for I?¡± The voices beckoned slowly.


    ¡°Land, fraught with life and splendor. The sorrow of generations to come, to feed your evergreen hunger.¡±


    The being fed right from the palm of my hand, taking the exact route I¡¯d hoped it would, albeit with a bit of a twist. All bark, no bite.


    ¡°Generations¡­to come?¡± The voices asked with an allured drone. ¡°How many?¡±


    ¡°It depends on fate¡¯s dice.¡± I replied. ¡°At the very least, three¡ªat most, more.¡±


    The voices chuckled and cried as the darkness grew lighter. A shadowy apparition appeared before me, red eyed¡ªlike fresh blood.


    ¡°How may I be¡­of service?¡± The voice asked hungrily.


    A wave of triumph washed over me as I repeated the phrase to myself: All bark, no bite. All bark, no bite. All bark, no bite.


    ¡°There lives a woman in the palace just past the tree line. I need to know if she lives.¡± I announced, and the eyes narrowed on me.


    ¡°That is all?¡± The voices asked, disbelief lining their cadence. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°I ask that you offer insight on her whereabouts, and if necessary: alert the residents of the land you are to live on should she ever need help.¡± I requested.


    The eyes bobbed, as if nodding in response to my request. Then, they squinted, as if smiling.


    ¡°Child of¡­Blessings¡­Harbinger of¡­Misfortune¡­¡± the voices seemed to toy with me. Was this what it meant by ¡®Illuminated One?¡¯ The names seemed based off of Otlak¡¯s religion, a multi-theistic way of living alongside nature and karma. I understood little about the religion, following one God myself. I shook my head with a grin, crossing my arms and believing the Child of Calamity to be a Fiid of sorts.


    ¡°Enough games. Tell me of the woman. I will be outside of the cave when you return, I¡¯m well-read on your tricks.¡± I informed the entity.


    It almost¡­laughed at me, had it not been for the sobs erupting from the laughter. It was haunting, and I wondered if the other men outside of the cave could hear it. I turned on my heels and headed for the exit of the cave, freezing as it spoke again.


    ¡°Fakhlah¡­torazeh?¡± The entity said in a scared voice¡ªa feminine voice¡ªHala¡¯s voice. It mimicked her perfectly, sending a deep shudder down my body that took everything in me to hide. I masked the panic growing inside of me once more as the doubtful voice filled my ears.


    ¡°Go on, then, bring me the owner of that voice.¡± I taunted, playing its game back at it.


    Another chuckle mixed with sobs, making me bristle.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Br¨°n returned, but he was in a human form. The only thing distinguishing him from a regular Otlakian man was his red eyes, and robe from a different time period. His face was riddled with horror as he returned to us. The notoriously heartless being seemed filled with concern, pained and distressed. It seemed that God favored us that day.


    ¡°Yer not gonna believe it, Lad.¡± He said meekly. He spoke broken Otlank, with a thick accent I¡¯d never heard.


    I assumed the worst, shooting up from the rock beneath me and approaching him. The other three men seemed confused by the man¡¯s appearance, though they listened as he spoke on.


    ¡°I ain¡¯t seen anythin¡¯ worse since Strolgia¡¯s founding¡­she¡¯s minced meat, Lad. If ya don¡¯t have a plan to get ¡®er out¡ªI¡¯ll do it, free of charge.¡± He said, sighing shakily.


    ¡°What is he talking about¡­?¡± Buma asked, looking at me with an attentive eye.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure¡­Br¨°n, what are you talking about?¡± I asked him.


    The three men familiarized themself with the name, looking at the immortal with steeled resolves as I braced myself for something unimaginable.


    ¡°That Duke¡¯s torn ¡®er to shreds. I don¡¯t usually give a shite about humans, but by Gods she looked like a Fae¡¯s nail file in there¡­¡± he said exasperatedly.


    ¡°You said you¡¯d do something free of charge¡ªdo it!¡± Alfahd said, his voice strapped with fear.


    ¡°I ain¡¯t makin¡¯ a deal with you.¡± Br¨°n hissed as he looked at me. ¡°I¡¯m makin¡¯ a deal with ¡®im!¡±


    I froze for a split second, completely wordless as I did nothing but shake my head.


    ¡°Do it¡­¡± I finally replied. ¡°Get her out.¡±


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    I¡¯d never been more fear-stricken¡ªmore enraged¡ªin my entire life than the moment I laid eyes on Hala as she laid in Br¨°n¡¯s arms. She was so frail, so weak, that I almost didn¡¯t recognize her. Her hair and clothing were pristine, but she was so thin that I nearly broke down crying. Her face was twisted in pain, seeming to be under a spell of sorts that kept her asleep long enough to make it into the clearing all these kilometers away.


    ¡°There¡¯s a decoy of ¡®er back in the palace. I gotta stay here for three days until the funeral¡¯s over¡ªPowers That Be said so.¡± He said with the ghost of a grimace on his face.


    Even though the immortal hadn¡¯t made a deal with me, he¡¯d made a deal with someone to get her back to us alive. I gave Br¨°n a silent ¡®thank you¡¯ in the form of a nod, taking the Princess in his arms. I didn¡¯t have time for questions. Just as the sun began to set, Hala stirred in my arms. Br¨°n waved his hand just above her forehead, and her cheeks became a bit more full of life as her eyes fluttered open. She looked around, her eyes wide as they could go, before nearly screaming out in fear. I clamped a hand to her mouth reflexively, fearful of our status being known, and spoke to her in a hushed tone to quiet her.


    ¡°Princess, you¡¯re okay.¡± I murmured, unable to utter her name. She looked nothing like herself, so I used her title instead. She struggled as much as her tiny body could muster, before the crying started. Her shoulders shook, and the Child of Calamity looked exasperatedly from me to her.


    ¡°I can¡¯t do anythin¡¯ else right now, Lad. The decoy¡¯s got half my power. It¡¯s ¡®er back that¡¯s botherin¡¯ her¡­That¡¯s you.¡± He said defeatedly.


    The other three men looked from her to me as I stood, powerlessly holding my hand to her mouth as she sobbed in shudders. I felt horrible, unsure as to if she had any clue as to what was going on. She¡¯d raise her arms every so often, shuddering the moment they lifted more than a few inches, causing more pained wails to erupt from her. I had to bring her somewhere, anywhere that wasn¡¯t so close to the palace so I could try to explain the situation to her.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Princess¡­¡± I murmured in Mahsulah as I walked to the horses. I struggled to keep her cries quiet as I stood beside Riah, the men I brought following suit and mounting their horses.


    ¡°You have to try¡­try to breathe. You¡¯re close enough to the palace right now that a guard could hear you. Do you understand?¡± I asked, switching to Otlank. I wasn¡¯t sure if she spoke Mahsulah at all during her time away¡ªand I couldn¡¯t depend on Br¨°n¡¯s single phrase in her voice to gauge whether or not she was fluent anymore. Hala nodded stiffly as I asked my question, unable to look up at me. I looked to Alfahd, my eyes wide with worry.


    ¡°The town further east. Go there on Saerie¡¯s horse, and meet us 20 kilometers to the southwest. I promise, you¡¯ll find us. Bring medical supplies¡ªlots of bandages.¡± I urged him. Alfahd nodded and the two switched horses. He wasted no time as his horse broke into a fast gallop, squeezing her with his legs on instinct.


    ¡°Try to stay quiet.¡± I told Hala in a way that resembled my old self more than I¡¯d hoped, almost snapping at her entirely. She nodded as I mounted my horse, biting back the groans she wanted so desperately to release.


    Shit, shit, shit. I thought.


    I felt my hand grow tackier as the Riah galloped as fast as she could with two people on her back. I looked down at my hand for a breath: red. Fresh blood.


    Shit, shit, shit, shit.


    I had to truly bite back my frustration for the first time in years, feeling my heartbeat in my throat as I lead the members of the Sixth Battalion to a spot I¡¯d found some years ago. A small grove that had been burnt down, completely open save for a behemoth tree whose core had burnt¡ªthough its bark still remained. I was going to make sure she was safe this time, far enough away from anyone dangerous so that she wouldn¡¯t be heard if she cried out.


    We approached the remnants of the grove, where trees had slowly begun to sprout up from the cinders it had been left in. I slowed Riah to a trot, and stopped her just as we reached the hollow trunk. With Hala secure in my arms, I dismounted the horse as the other men slowly caught up with us.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, now.¡± I said, speaking in as calm a voice I could muster. ¡°You¡¯re safe, he can¡¯t get you anymore.¡±


    A shrill, bone-shattering cry erupted from Hala¡¯s lips as I held her close to my chest. I couldn¡¯t do anything but hold back my own tears as I heard it, feeling the fluid in my eardrums vibrate as she yowled out like an injured big cat.


    ¡°I know¡­I know¡­¡± I whispered to her. ¡°You¡¯re safe, now.¡± Was all I could muster before my own voice broke.


    Shit, good job, Idris.

 Chapter 14: Hala

    I hurt so badly as that horse carried me through the forest. It was unbearable¡ªunspeakable. My back roared and rippled in pain as my captor hoisted me up, and it took everything in me to listen to the directions he¡¯d given before mounting it. The galloping was worse, though, as each clop of the horse¡¯s hooves sent waves of pure agony through my body. I felt the blood seeping out of my back before my captor knew it was there, and I bit my lip until I tasted it. Once the horse came to a slowed pace, and stopped, I was ready to scream the loudest scream I¡¯d ever let out, everything hurt so badly. His arms were gentle around me, taking great care not to jostle my body more than he already had when he dismounted the horse. Once he knelt to the ground in the burnt tree trunk, and whispered to me that it was okay to scream¡ªI let loose.


    My shoulders trembled, and I felt each one of Shahin¡¯s marks tear with the movements¡ªI felt his ¡®love¡¯ for me with every shaking breath.


    ¡°I know¡­I know¡­¡± the captor¡¯s voice soothed me. ¡°You¡¯re safe, now.¡± I could hear his voice break, and I knew he didn¡¯t understand. He couldn¡¯t comprehend the sheer discomfort I was in, or how terrified I was of him. Even with his voice breaking, he was massive compared to me. I felt like I was inside of two tree trunks, not one.


    ¡°Make it STOP!¡± I cried, my voice grating as I begged him to do something, anything to help me. For the first time, I could beg someone to put me out of the misery I was in.


    His hand raked through my hair hesitantly, unsure of how to help more than he already was. ¡°Alfahd is coming back soon, Princess¡­¡± he said as I cried once more.


    Alfahd¡­A Mahsulian name? Someone from Mahsul had nabbed me up?


    I gripped into my captor¡¯s sleeve as the pain burned my back, breathing in jagged breaths as it got worse and worse. My fingernails had to be digging into the forearms holding me still, and I was surprised he hadn¡¯t struck me to shut me up yet.


    ¡°Breathe.¡± He said, his voice becoming more authoritative as an accent pulled through. I had to remind myself how to take a full breath, detecting that my assumption was correct in that one word alone¡ªthe man who was with me was Mahsulian. My captors were saviors. He was right: I was safe.


    ¡°Jun ka fakhlah?¡± The man asked, the same gentleness that comes with Jidhaq fasting. Mahsulah.


    Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I forgot Mahsulah.


    ¡°Fakhlah¡­torazeh!¡± The only phrase I knew. I wanted to kick my legs and kill the bastard who¡¯d done this to me. I wanted to wring Shahin¡¯s neck until the life left his eyes.


    ¡°I¡­make it STOP!¡± I cried again, slipping back into Otlank. Another wave of pain as my breathing sputtered.


    ¡°It will stop soon. Breathe, Hala.¡± He snapped back in Otlank. I almost hit him, but it hurt too much to move. I dug my fingernails deeper into his forearm, probably feeling no stronger than a rat in that moment. Another horse could be heard in the distance, neighing loudly as it clopped. Thank God.


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    Another voice, Mahsulah being spoken, urgently and loudly¡ªand I hardly understood a lick of it. I was furious, in pain, and mortified as the man I clung onto caught two separate items. He peeled my hand from his arm, and I begged him not to move me as I heard his heartbeat quicken whilst I laid against his chest. My head went up, and I swear I saw Idris¡¯ eyes looking into mine.


    ¡°Make it stop¡­¡± I whined, swallowing harshly as my throat grew thick from saliva after screaming so loudly. I had to look pitiful, horribly sick, because the look he gave me was nothing short of an embarrassment to be on the receiving end of.


    ¡°I will¡­but you have to stay still.¡± He said, almost snarking at me as he turned me around. His gentle hands turned me around, and I felt the back of my robe being pulled at. I clung to it on instinct, as my shoulders shook again in pain.


    ¡°Don¡¯t hurt me¡­¡± I cried, my lips curling down into a horrible frown. I could hardly move my head, it felt so heavy atop my shoulders.


    ¡°Heavens, Hala¡­¡± he sighed, peeling the robe back. I was at a new man¡¯s mercy at that point, and dreading every second of it. Not only was he here, but he brought friends. He could be getting ready to¡­I had to swallow again¡ªnot here, not right now. He said I was safe. I saw Idris¡¯ eyes. Not yet¡­I had to see them again. The cold air bit against the wounds on my back, my hot flashes intensifying as the man caught a third item¡ªsomething glass? I felt a cool splash run over my back, and heard it trickle down to the ground. He cursed under his breath in Mahsulah¡ªgreat. At least I knew the vocabulary that mattered.


    I writhed in pain as I felt fingers sliding along my back, with more curse words and other words coming from the man¡¯s lips. ¡°I can¡¯t understand you¡­!¡± I said with more distress than I¡¯d hoped.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about what I say.¡± He chastised gently, switching back to Otlank for a split second. I understood this was a high-stress situation. I was under the most stress in that moment: a random man I¡¯d never met, seeing the wounds on my back that I hated with a passion¡ªstarved in more ways than one, and forced to endure touch on open wounds that probably went down near bone. Not to mention; I¡¯d probably been left infertile by one of these cuts. I wished I was back in the palace, feeling Shahin as he¡­God. Stupid girl.


    I had to clench my jaw so hard I heard my teeth grind as the brute bandaged me. He had stripped me bear at that point, grown frustrated by the sleeves remaining on my arms and fully removed them. I¡¯d be lying if I said he was anything but gentlemanly about the way he tore the cloth from my arms, though, apologizing the whole way through.


    I was lucky his friends weren¡¯t gawking at me¡ªnot that there was anything to look at, anyways. I think I stayed still, I wasn¡¯t sure, but the man wasn¡¯t cursing under his breath anymore. He grazed my chest multiple times, and I almost crawled out of my skin. It was miserable, being so bare in front of a stranger. I wanted to go home, whichever home didn¡¯t matter¡ªbut this was a torture of its own.


    He let out a shaky breath as he slung the bloodied robe over my back, taking a moment to compose himself after the grizzly scene he¡¯d just been exposed to. I struggled to get my arms through the sleeves again, tying the sash with the last of my remaining strength before I felt his arms pull me back. They weren¡¯t harsh, nor did they travel my body. They stayed where they¡¯d initially grabbed me, at my waist, as he kept the robe taught with his fingers.


    ¡°Everyone thought you were dead.¡± He chided, his voice filled with anger.


    ¡°No one sent a letter.¡± I spat back, unable to imagine Father¡¯s face as I chastised the man who just rescued me.


    ¡°Your bastard husband just didn¡¯t give them to you.¡± He said ¡®bastard¡¯ with particular disdain. I liked it.


    ¡°Thank you¡­¡± I murmured, feeling myself grow dizzier. This was the most movement I¡¯d had in years, and my body¡¯s resilience was astounding; even to me. The sound of the quiet night was intoxicating, though it may have just been the blood loss making me so woozy.


    ¡°For bandaging you up?¡± He asked, his voice laced with confusion. I hummed in agreement, as my legs poked through my robe. The cold air felt sobering on them, as I clung onto consciousness for dear life. With no meat on them, I almost laughed at how dismal I must¡¯ve looked.


    ¡°God¡­this is bad.¡± He muttered. ¡°Men! We leave at dawn.¡± The feeling of his voice as it vibrated through his chest sent my head into a hum, and I heard the men respond to the man holding me.


    ¡°Yes, Abyad!¡±


    I almost said something, wanting to test his name on my lips, but my breathing was shallow and labored. I felt his right hand move, pressing down on the middle of my chest to make me breathe in short bursts.


    This was really bad.

 Chapter 15: Hala

    The first day of travel was the worst, I felt I¡¯d been made a mockery of when Abyad made his horse bow to get me atop it. Once he planted himself behind me, he tapped the horse gently with his heel and the horse stood. At first, my arms were over his, and it made the sensation in my back so much worse. Abyad thought he was oh so charming, asking if I was comfortable. I was unable to crane my neck to look at him, but I told him I was fine. Whether through the tension in my body, or by pure instinct alone, he brought his arms over mine and held me close.


    ¡°Is that better, Princess?¡± He asked in a sweet tone.


    I simply nodded, too tired to insist I had been fine as I was.


    As the horse trotted up to an impassable river, he stopped at the shoreline and asked if I could bring my legs up on the horse on my own. I took insult to such a question at first, telling him I could, until I tried it for myself. My legs could hardly make it any further than where they were, and Abyad had to take them and pull them to my chest himself. I had little energy, but my curiosity was burning once we¡¯d made it across the river. The pointed questions I had couldn¡¯t go unanswered any longer.


    ¡°Abyad¡­?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yes, Princess?¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you all rescue me sooner¡­?¡±


    I felt the large man grow tense, as his arms tightened slightly around me. I could also sense his companions¡¯ eyes on me as I asked my question.


    ¡°I had a lot of things to do before I could come and get you, Princess. It took a lot of planning.¡± He replied solemnly.


    I had no choice but to accept the answer, too lightheaded to go back and forth.


    It was as we traversed a small trail, forced to follow each other in a tight line that I caught a glimpse of him. He had adjusted me slightly, and I caught his eyes in my sight once more. My body went rigid, as familiarity washed over me like a splash of cold water. Abyad was perceptive, picking up on any way in which my body¡¯s posture changed over the course of our travel.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Abyad asked, a hint of worry lining his voice.


    ¡°You just look like someone¡­¡± I murmured.


    On the third day of travel, I saw something that made me believe I¡¯d gone entirely insane. From the shadows, as I sat beside Abyad, came a man. He was tall and pale, of Otlakian descent, with reddish-brown waves and sharp features. He carried himself with both a casual and regal air, as if he were a ruler of an unknown kingdom. The most jarring feature was his eyes¡ªas red as a Jagan Cardinal. I inched closer to Abyad as he emerged from the depths, my own eyes as wide as they could go.


    ¡°Princess,¡± Abyad began, his tone casual and serene. ¡°Meet Br¨°n, the man responsible for saving your life.¡±


    My eyes darted from Abyad to the man, as he smiled at me with a meek expression. He seemed scared of me, as if I was the one who¡¯d just appeared from the shadows.


    ¡°You¡­you¡¯re the man I heard in my bedroom?¡± I asked.


    Br¨°n nodded, and my mind went back to that palace for a moment. It was late afternoon, after Shahin had checked on my back, when he appeared.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you later tonight, Song Bird.¡± His words still rang fresh in my memory.


    As he closed the door behind him, and I¡¯d laid back in the bed, a masculine voice with a thick accent spoke up.


    ¡°Like Hell he will¡­Hala, yer coming with me. Got it?¡±


    I didn¡¯t even pick my head up from the pillow, thinking it to be some kind of pain-induced hallucination¡ªbut the next thing I knew, I was in Abyad¡¯s arms being fussed over. The next three days were a blur, as Abyad held me atop the horse and my body screamed at me each time I moved. Even in that moment, looking at Br¨°n standing at the makeshift camp, the anguish was enough to make me cry. I didn¡¯t recall sleeping, the last few days.


    ¡°I can take ¡®er from here, men. Where¡¯s she from?¡± Br¨°n asked.


    ¡°Mahsul.¡± Abyad replied.


    ¡°Mahsul¡­?¡± He asked, furrowing his brows as if he hadn¡¯t heard of my homeland.


    ¡°They were the old jewel mines of Otlak, further south. Before the jungles meet the dunes to Zarvan.¡±


    Br¨°n¡¯s eyebrows then raised in realization as he crossed his arms. ¡°That¡¯s another eight days¡¯ travel.¡± He stated. He sighed heavily before speaking again. ¡°I can get ¡®er there in three. I gotta take a break every so often, but I can do it.¡±


    I wanted to speak up, to ask questions that came and left my mind, but I was too tired. I was more than tired, I was exhausted. The red-eyed man walked over to me, and I shrank back. Abyad spoke gently, but firmly to me.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be okay, Princess.¡±


    Something about how he called me by my title every other time we spoke ticked me off, but I was too out of it to say anything as the man picked me up. In the blink of an eye, I was surrounded by darkness. I felt nothing. I was nothing. The sound of wind moving, snapping against my ears as birds chirped and paws hit the woodland floors was the only thing my consciousness clung onto, aside from the smell of hazel. I wasn¡¯t in pain. I wasn¡¯t clouded with exhaustion. For the first time in six years, my mind felt at ease.


    ¡°It¡¯s nice, isn¡¯t it?¡± A cacophony of voices asked me. There was a main voice within the dozens, hundreds, of echoes that rang familiar¡ªBr¨°n¡¯s thick accent.


    ¡°What is this?¡± I asked.


    ¡°My powers allow me to travel the shadows, usually I could get to your homeland in a matter of hours¡­but more weight to carry means more power being used.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re¡­The Child of Calamity?¡± I asked, remembering the story Pavel had told me countless times.


    ¡°Aye.¡± He replied, the main voice fading into the symphony of whispers and screams as if embarrassed.


    We travelled for hours in silence, with just the sounds of the woodlands filling the space where voices would go. It was so soothing, feeling nothing. I could have stayed there forever. It wasn¡¯t until we reappeared in the woodlands closer to Mahsul that the pain hit me in sputtering reverberations down my spine. I cried out, nearly falling to the ground until a pair of strong arms caught me. Somehow, the abrupt jolt didn¡¯t cause more agony. I wasn¡¯t sure of what kind of power this man¡¯s touch had, but so long as it kept me from wanting to scream out in pain¡ªI wasn¡¯t going to complain.


    ¡°Here¡¯s where we stop for the night, Lass.¡± He said.


    The sound of crickets chirping and woodland critters leaving their burrows surrounded us, but he offered a reassuring glance. ¡°They can¡¯t see us, I went ahead n¡¯ placed a glamor ¡®round our area.¡±


    The anxiety must have been visible on my face, as he sat by a tree beside me rather than the one he¡¯d placed me down at. ¡°You ought to try n¡¯ sleep. I know the pain¡¯s gotta be screwin¡¯ you backwards.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sleeping.¡± I told him, far too wary of the presence of yet another unfamiliar male¡ªone with capabilities beyond my comprehension.


    ¡°If yer scared I¡¯m anythin¡¯ like the Duke, the answer is no.¡± He began. ¡°I¡¯m not into mortals like you; wouldn¡¯t touch ya with a ten-foot pole.¡±


    I¡¯d have felt insulted had I not been so lightheaded. I wanted to go back into the darkness, where I couldn¡¯t feel my injuries. I wanted to feel weightless, again. His very presence made me uneasy.


    ¡°Fine, then. Don¡¯t sleep. But don¡¯t go cryin¡¯ to me when yer not in a good mood.¡±


    I sulked as I leaned against the tree, feeling the wounds as they brushed against the bark. I forced myself to look at the red-eyed immortal before me.


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard stories of you, before. From an old friend of mine.¡± I stated, the words taking a great effort.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure ya have. Lotsa people have. I ain¡¯t ignorant to that.¡± He chortled.


    I rolled my eyes, feeling the cool night¡¯s air chill me to the bone. Br¨°n picked up on that, as well, waving his hands as a burst of firelight floated over the ground before us. I offered a confused look, and he smiled cockily.


    ¡°Faelight, Lass. It¡¯s nothin¡¯ special.¡±


    I sighed, wringing my hands and trying to keep myself from thinking about the fire that sat in my room the night everything began. Trying not to imagine the fire that crackled as Shahin grabbed my wrists, shaking me furiously before slapping me senseless. Trying not to remember the fire¡¯s snaps as he took claim of my body that night he called me to his room.


    ¡°You¡¯ve a lot of sorrow within you.¡± Br¨°n said, breaking the silence. I didn¡¯t reply.


    ¡°I told the Illuminated One, I ain¡¯t seen anythin¡¯ like you since Strolgia¡¯s founding. Their king¡­he had similar wounds to yours. I can¡¯t imagine the pain you¡¯re in, Lass.¡± He added.


    I couldn¡¯t begin to describe it. It felt like every movement, every breath, was pure anguish and suffering. I was so numb, emotionally, that crying was no longer in my arsenal of coping mechanisms. All that was left was a hollow feeling in my chest, and reminders of Shahin¡¯s brutality¡ªhis love. Crickets chirped, and owls hooted in the silence that filled the air. Finally, I gathered the energy to entertain my curiosity. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Did he get better¡­? Did he ever stop feeling so empty?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Nay. He became a Cursed One, like me.¡± Br¨°n replied.


    I looked at him with shock. He offered a reassuring smile in response.


    ¡°That ain¡¯t what¡¯ll happen to ya, Lass. Not so long as I can help it. Yer soul¡¯s still pure.¡±


    I balked at his response. Pure? My body was a wasteland. Tarnished beyond belief. And I had the wounds to say as much. As if he¡¯d read my mind, he spoke once more.


    ¡°Your body may be in shambles, but the soul within ya is still white as a Kilsank.¡± He said. ¡°Yer not towin¡¯ the line, like yer friend.¡±


    ¡°My friend?¡± I asked.


    He raised an eyebrow, as if realizing he¡¯d said something I wasn¡¯t meant to hear.


    ¡°I guess that¡¯ll reveal itself when the Powers That Be will it¡­¡± he murmured.


    I was too tired to truly care, settling against the tree once more as I tried to get comfortable. It was like no matter how I contorted myself¡ªin what little ways I could¡ªthere was no comfort to be had.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    The second day of traveling with Br¨°n was the same as the first, traversing shadows as wildlife moved around us. I heard what sounded to be different dialects of Otlank as we must have gone through a village. It wouldn¡¯t be until I heard Mahsulah that I grew anxious¡ªeven in the comfort of the shadows. We spent another few hours traveling until we popped up at a beach, below palm trees. The scent of brine filled my nose, and tears began welling in my eyes¡ªboth from the wounds in my back, and the familiar stimulation engulfing my senses.


    Home. I was home. Br¨°n placed a hand on my shoulder, causing a pained shudder to skitter down my spine. He offered a hardened expression as I craned my neck halfway towards him, the tears in my eyes began spilling without issue. He brought me closer to him, my very core rattling with fear. I was nothing short of mortified by physical contact, but he leaned in and spoke softly.


    ¡°People ain¡¯t all bad.¡± He said, releasing me.


    I drew in a shaky breath, stifling the tears that just kept coming. It was so relieving, being by the shore. Even late at night, the beauty of Mahsul was capable of bringing me to tears. I felt so many emotions in that moment; anger, towards Shahin for ripping me from this land; as well as anger towards Father for allowing me to be sent off with him; sadness, because I was isolated from this for so long¡ªforced to see nothing but the same dreary willow trees on the Otlakian property in which I was held captive; pride, towards my country for maintaining its scenery; Peace. I felt a semblance of that somewhere deep within me; and finally, hope.


    As we sat, silence still lingered around us. Br¨°n broke the tension with a question.


    ¡°Who was ¡®e to ya?¡±


    I shot him a sidelong glance, realizing he¡¯d meant Shahin.


    ¡°My husband¡­¡± I replied.


    ¡°Husband?¡± He scoffed. ¡°Seems more like a slaver.¡±


    ¡°He loved me.¡± I argued.


    Br¨°n¡¯s brows furrowed in disbelief. ¡°Love ain¡¯t carvin¡¯ yer wife to bits, Lass. You may as well¡¯ve been a bear¡¯s scratchin¡¯ post.¡±


    And as much as I wanted to argue his point, there was a kernel of truth in his words. We rested under the palms that night. The lemurs of the land chattered amongst each other, as if they were surprised to see me home. The next morning, Br¨°n offered a steely expression to me before we left.


    ¡°Are ya ready to go home?¡± He asked. I nodded.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    A flash of darkness, then light, and I was met with the gaze of my Uncle and Father. I could tell they could hardly recognize me, eyes filled with confusion and mortification. I could barely recognize them, as well. Father¡¯s face had become sullen, and hollow. He was by no means weak looking, but he had fallen victim to time. His usual fervor in his eyes was almost entirely gone, just as I¡¯m sure mine had left me. Uncle was peppered with gray hairs, as well, from head to sideburns. He looked more jaded, as if time had been rather cruel to him as well. Father stood from the throne I¡¯d sat beside all those years ago, listening to the nobles as they¡¯s asked for an inch more of land, or complained about taxes. He froze in place, examining me with bleary eyes and an anxiety-ridden expression.


    ¡°Hala¡­?¡± He asked, taking a hesitant step down from the dais. I nodded my head, taking as long of a stride I could muster. I almost instantly fell, stopped once more by Br¨°n¡¯s painless catch. Father asked me something, and continued speaking to me as if I could translate his words seamlessly. So many words I couldn¡¯t understand, save for curse words that fell from Uncle¡¯s mouth as he laid eyes on me. Father took me into his arms, asking me more questions I was without an answer to.


    ¡°Jun ka fakhlah, Hala? Kazeh mort¡­¡± Father asked, his voice wavering. I¡¯d never heard his voice like that.


    ¡°Baba¡­¡± I said, trying to wrack my brain for the vocabulary I so desperately needed. ¡°I can¡¯t understand you¡­¡± I switched back to Otlank. My voice broke, causing him to look at me with both rage and upset.


    Father spoke to Uncle once more before he tried to speak in Otlank¡ªone of the few languages he¡¯d never quite gotten the grasp of.


    ¡°Ya, Hala¡­I¡¯m sorry¡­I¡¯m no good at Otlank¡­we¡¯ll have to wait until Abyad comes¡­¡± he spoke the language similarly to a child, and all I could do was cry and nod. Once again, I was surprised I could feel anything in that moment aside from the wails of my body.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s sad, innit?¡± Br¨°n asked from beside me.


    Father looked at the immortal with confusion, and asked Uncle something, to which Uncle shrugged and replied to Father. I looked at Br¨°n exasperatedly, desperate for help to understand my Father.


    ¡°Do you speak Mahsulah?¡± I asked Br¨°n.


    ¡°Nay.¡± Br¨°n replied. ¡°But gimmie a couple¡¯a weeks and some books, ¡®n I¡¯ll pick it up. Ya got that kinda time?¡± He asked with a slight smirk.


    ¡°Of course I don¡¯t!¡± I whined. ¡°How far is Abyad?¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t tell ya. If I had ta guess, I¡¯d say maybe four days¡¯ travel?¡± He estimated. My face grew hotter as tears pricked my eyes, and I began furiously wiping them away. Days? I had to wait days to speak to my family again?


    Father put his hands on my shoulders and looked at me, still speaking Mahsulah. Asad kept telling him something that I finally understood:


    ¡°It¡¯s no use, Namir.¡±


    Father¡¯s face darkened and he spoke to Uncle again. He let go of my shoulders after Uncle left the room. A few moments passed, and a young girl came to fetch me. I hesitantly looked around until Br¨°n caught my gaze and offered a reassuring nod. The young woman offered an arm to me and guided me out of the room, allowing me to lean on her heavily. She was strong, enough so that it surprised me¡ªbut maybe I was truly that thin. The young girl led me to my old room, and looked at me with sad eyes.


    ¡°Zaima.¡± She said, motioning to herself. ¡°Kazah ne Zaima.¡± She repeated her name.


    I understood that she was trying to introduce herself, so I did the same to the best of my abilities. ¡°Kazah ne Hala¡­¡± I said softly.


    Zaima chuckled, and smiled pitifully at me before murmuring something in Mahsulah. She went for my robe, and I lurched back.


    ¡°Wait¡­!¡± I exclaimed. I wracked my brain once more.


    ¡°Bad¡­I look bad¡­¡± I said in Otlank, drawing a blank for Mahsulah words to use and trying to talk with my hands to elaborate further.


    Zaima shook her head, still offering that sweet smile as she tried to disrobe me. I stayed on high alert until she sighed, sticking a finger out and saying something else. She left the room, and I looked around. Old belongings, once so cherished by my young self, left entirely untouched as I took in the room. I saw the armchair¡ªIdris¡¯ armchair. My heart sank as more tears brimmed my eyes. Where was he? Why wasn¡¯t he here? I wanted to scream his name to see if he¡¯d come running in with the same angered expression he¡¯d give me when we were kids. I wanted to walk out of my room and find him, but my feet couldn¡¯t carry me further than a few steps without the help of someone else. Zaima returned with a towel in tow, and laid it out on the bed. She pointed her head towards the towel, then to me. I understood: it was time for a bath.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Zaima disrobed me and led me to the bathroom, having already pre-drawn a bath¡ªit felt warm initially, until my wounds were submerged. I breathed in jagged breaths as Zaima lightly cleaned the wounds and offered me another rag to clean my more private areas. Who¡¯d have known that a simple bath would bring me to such tears? I sobbed and sobbed in that tub as Zaima muttered words of what I assumed to be pity and condolences while she washed my wounds. By the time the bath was over, my eyes burned from the amount of crying I¡¯d done, my body stiff and achy from sitting for so long. My tailbone was so sore, I felt it pop as I stood. That bath felt like it had lasted forever. After being wrapped in a fluffy towel, Zaima was kind enough to give extra care in letting me lean on her as she guided me back to my bed.


    With new clothes on, and fresh bandages shoddily wrapped around me, I laid down. I was in no state to socialize, and Zaima could tell as much. She left for a few moments before returning with some bone broth, encouraging me to eat it by placing a palm out towards it, then towards me. After she left, I struggled to take the bowl from the nightstand. I tried to swallow some, only for my stomach to reject the food entirely. I wanted to throw it up, but I willed the broth to stay down. After a few sips, I placed it back onto the nightstand and laid back down on the bed.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    I couldn¡¯t tell how long I¡¯d slept, or how good the sleep was. All I could remember was waking up and seeing Br¨°n sitting in Idris¡¯ old armchair. When my eyes scanned the room and landed on him, I reflexively sat up. It felt like every choice I¡¯d made in life was wrong, because the burning ache that littered my back was nothing less than excruciating. He watched with wide eyes as I shot from the bed, standing up and trying to get me to lay down.


    ¡°Get off!¡± I couldn¡¯t muster a yell as I saw the concern in his eyes.


    ¡°Stop it, won¡¯t ya?¡± He asked in a hushed voice. ¡°You need ta rest!¡±


    Fighting back was too difficult, and I reluctantly lowered back down on my stomach. ¡°Abyad¡¯ll be back soon, yer Pa¡¯s tryin¡¯ not to fly off the handle right now.¡± He chided.


    I was still upset with Father, and his decision to send me to that country in the North.


    ¡°How long was I asleep?¡± I asked, glazing over his comment.


    ¡°Three days?¡± He asked himself, looking up as he thought. ¡°Aye. Three days.¡± He stated.


    My eyes widened with amazement, as his narrowed on me. He moved from the chair, pouring a glass of water and handing it to me. ¡°Ya sound parched.¡± He said.


    I forced myself back up, unable to help my face as it twisted in pain. I took the glass, sipping small swigs of the water and feeling my throat lose its sand-papery dryness. I was thirstier than I¡¯d thought, taking larger sips as I felt the water travel down my throat.


    ¡°How far is Abyad?¡± I asked once I¡¯d finished the glass entirely.


    ¡°Still some hours, if I¡¯d to guess.¡± Br¨°n replied.


    We sat in silence, again, for a long while as I held the glass and stared at it. The air felt heavy, stifling any conversation that could be had. My mind wandered as my back ached, recalling the nights I¡¯d spent in that shack. The memory of my fertility was the most distressing, as I¡¯d truly believed I could no longer bring an heir to my kingdom. We must have sat in silence for hours, as the only thing that brought me out of the haze was the amber light of sunset; then, panic began to set in.


    What if? What if? What if?


    My mind raced in circles as I looked around the room, hoping and praying I was safe in my own home. Hoping I wasn¡¯t going to see that bastard of a Duke walk in with his beady eyes boring into me. Praying I wouldn¡¯t awaken in that dilapidated shack. Br¨°n had disappeared by now, and I needed something to keep me grounded. I eyed the vanity at the other side of my room, and inched towards the edge of the bed.


    Just as my feet touched the floor, and I began to stand, my legs gave out on me. I almost screamed out, until the feeling of arms around me broke my fall. Br¨°n was looking down at me with chagrined eyes, as he chided me once more.


    ¡°Ya can¡¯t go doin¡¯ that, Lass.¡± He said as he planted me firmly on the bed.


    ¡°I want to sit at my vanity.¡± I whined, still struggling and trying to get out from under his grasp.


    ¡°Not happein¡¯.¡± He snarked. ¡°You¡¯re as spry as a Lutrov, ya know.¡±


    The words made me freeze, as my nose twinged with pins and needles. The memory of Idris calling Shahin a Lutrov rang clearly in my mind in that moment¡ªa comment I¡¯d nearly forgotten in the nine years since I¡¯d seen him. I could hardly remember his face, nonetheless his voice on most days. The only thing about him I could remember were his eyes. Br¨°n snapped me out of my haze once more as he spoke.


    ¡°That¡¯s enough cryin¡¯ outta you.¡± He said in a firm, yet gentle tone. ¡°I can¡¯t keep bringin¡¯ ya to the darkness to quell the memories.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow at his words before I wiped my tears on my shoulder.


    ¡°You keep havin¡¯ dreams about whatever happened in ¡®at palace. Take it easy n¡¯ try to rest.¡± He said.


    I found myself on my stomach again a few minutes later, my eyes heavy with exhaustion. The warmth of sleep took me away, eventually.

 Chapter 16: Hala

    The moonlight shone through my balcony doors in brilliant rays that night, illuminating the room in a way I thought impossible. I stared out of the window at my bedside, gawking at the stars as they glimmered in the sky. Br¨°n had disappeared not long after I¡¯d fallen asleep, but I awoke from a nightmare for the first time since we¡¯d set off on the journey home. My eyes were wet, with hair sticking to my neck from sweating so heavily in my sleep. The only thing keeping me from ruminating on the memories of Shahin carving into my back were those shimmering lights in the dark of night, far beyond my reach. My breathing still shook, and my mind was hazy¡ªdissociated, if anything else, until I heard my door handle twist with a soft click. I turned my head, catching a pair of tired, familiar eyes on a face I hadn¡¯t truly taken the time to observe until that moment. Abyad looked at me with a charming smile that almost made me mad; I couldn¡¯t help but drink his features. A sharp jawline, strong nose, and cheekbones higher than mine looked back at me. His eyes¡ªI could have sworn they were Idris¡¯. If I¡¯d been more capable of thinking, maybe I¡¯d have been able to do the math¡ªbut I was in no condition to recognize even the smallest of similarities between his appearance now, and his appearance as a child.


    ¡°Did you miss me?¡± Abyad asked. I brought a hand to my throat, watching him warily as he all but floated towards Idris¡¯ armchair¡ªhis armchair. ¡°I hear you haven¡¯t been eating¡ªdid you miss me that much?¡±


    That stupid smirk sent me into a fury, especially coupled with his smug tone. My eyes fell to the bedsheets covering me, and I rubbed at my throat as it bobbed.


    ¡°I¡¯ve barely been able to move.¡± I replied, my voice thick with emotion.


    Abyad¡¯s smile fell by the time I looked back at him, his eyes filled with concern. He held something in his hand, a jar. The healing salve from the first few nights we¡¯d traveled.


    ¡°I forgot to give this to Br¨°n.¡± He admitted, his tone now remorseful as his eyes fell to the jar. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    I shook my head, and his gaze met mine once more. Looking back, they were the same eyes that met mine in the streets of Mahsul¡ªI was just too starved and traumatized to realize it. The stillness within them lulled me into a sense of calm, bringing me further from the panicked state I¡¯d awoken in. He pursed his lips, setting the jar down on the nightstand before standing from the chair and walking towards the door.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be right back.¡± He murmured.


    I sat in that bed for an unknown amount of time before Abyad returned, his sleeves rolled up to expose his vascular forearms, bandages in his right hand. Zaima had been too fearful over the last few days to look at my wounds for very long, though she made sure they were clean. Seeing Abyad with the bandages reminded me of how shoddily she had fashioned the ones I wore as he strode towards me and sat behind me on the bed. He muttered something under his breath in Mahsulah, and I almost yelped as I felt his weight behind me on the mattress.


    ¡°Why the doctors didn¡¯t do this is beyond me¡­¡± he said, switching tongues to Otlank. ¡°Take your robe off, Hala.¡±


    His words were nothing like Shahin¡¯s, laced with a gentle worry in comparison to a demanding bark. But still, I couldn¡¯t do it. It was too big of a request. I tried to move my hands, yet they never moved from the sheet on top of me. I heard a soft sigh from behind me before Abyad spoke again.


    ¡°I understand, this is hard. But you need to take the robe off. No one wants a dead Princess.¡±


    I swallowed harshly and nodded, forcing my hands to move towards the sash keeping my robe in place. Shakily, I began untying and removing the garment. I couldn¡¯t stop my shoulders from trembling and anxiety from rippling my core. My breath sputtered as Abyad¡¯s large, warm hands met the collar of the robe and began peeling the fabric from my back; tears formed in my eyes. This was too much¡ªand just as in the not-so-distant past: there was nothing I could do to stop it. I heard Abyad loose a breath, himself, before I felt the sensation of the bandages Zaima had put on me being unraveled. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    The room¡¯s tepid temperature hit my skin before his hands began grazing each wound, sending a burning sensation reverberating through me. There was no more silent sobbing, it was full-blown crying. I could hear him apologizing as he¡¯d touch and retouch my back, as his hands smoothed the balm over the cut that stole my worth as an heiress to the throne. No one could know¡ªI couldn¡¯t tell anyone about my inability to bear child. The cries became harsher as the emotional turmoil ate me alive, and my hands came to my face. The pain was a non-sequitur, my hands moved regardless of the pain I was in. It was adrenaline doing it, as if I were capable of anything I willed so long as those endorphins flowed through me.


    ¡°Va shazeh¡­jun ka fakhlah, Themaz¡­?¡± I could barely hear him over the cries I loosed. The only word I recognized was the term of endearment, and I tried to calm myself as he continued applying the balm. Finally, his hand drew away. I heard him unravel the fresh roll of bandages, talking to himself in our mother tongue. He began wrapping at the base of my back, tight but not too tight.


    ¡°You can¡¯t understand Mahsulah, can you?¡± He asked as he rounded my stomach.


    I shook my head, my lips curled into a frown. I was so glad he couldn¡¯t see my face¡ªI knew he¡¯d have looked at me similarly to the night I begged him not to hurt me in that burnt tree trunk.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Princess¡­¡± He said with a saddened cadence. I almost burst into tears once more.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need your pity.¡± I snarled, as a few stray tears fell from my eyes.


    ¡°You need more than pity, right now.¡± Abyad shot back. ¡°Inniat ka fakulazeh, Themaz, ana wa frokhshun ne shrefant.¡± He muttered as he made another lap with the bandages.


    ¡°Why do you keep calling me that?¡± I asked.


    ¡°So you do speak Mahsulah?¡± He asked, his tone almost mocking me.


    ¡°I don¡¯t.¡± I said with an edge. ¡°But I know certain words¡­you can¡¯t call me Themaz and expect me to ignore it.¡±


    ¡°I see you as a dear friend. Is that better?¡± He threw his answer in as he tied the bandage taught up at my armpits. I winced. He drew back for a second, before wrapping my shoulder blades with an X-like pattern across my chest.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t I remember you, then?¡± I asked. Surely, I¡¯d have been able to recall such a handsome man being a close friend.


    He stayed silent for a long while, and as I was getting ready to chastise him for not answering my question he spoke in a semi-humorous tone.


    ¡°Ne kazeh wa trezhan, ana fidiqh ghaab.¡±


    I furrowed my brows, looking at him over my shoulder. He had a soft smile on his lips, but his eyes were pained.


    ¡°I can¡¯t understand you.¡± I said in a pointed tone. He breathed out his nostrils, a laugh, and shook his head.


    ¡°Nothing, Princess. You don¡¯t need to recognize me.¡± He smiled.


    I could tell he was lying, and it made my anger boil hotter than the sun¡¯s surface. But I couldn¡¯t scorn such a handsome face. His eyes traveled down, looking at my body with a sullen expression. He muttered something else under his breath, a similar statement to my Father¡¯s: Kazeh mort. My back ached from looking at him for so long, so I had to turn around and look ahead.


    ¡°If this is your idea of reteaching me Mahsulah, it¡¯s pretty shitty.¡± I snarked.


    Abyad kept quiet for a second before switching tongues. ¡°You just look so sickly, Hala¡­I don¡¯t know how you¡¯re still here¡­¡±


    Raw emotion coated his words, and I¡¯d almost wished I¡¯d forced myself to keep my neck craned to him as he brought the robe up over my shoulders. The way he said my name with such familiarity, I¡¯d take that over him using my title any day. I sighed, wiping my face of the wetness my tears had left once I¡¯d gotten my sleeves back on.


    ¡°Call me Hala from now on.¡± I told him. ¡°I don¡¯t like hearing my title come from your mouth.¡±

 Chapter 17: Abyad (TW)

    She didn¡¯t recognize me. I didn¡¯t know whether to take it as a win, or fall into the deepest depths of despair as she¡¯d asked me such a question. I was too overwhelmed by the gore beneath the delicate silk fabric I¡¯d just placed back on her to let it consume me. I moved from the bed back to the chair between her and the vanity. Two things hadn¡¯t changed: she was still able to snark, and still hated when I used her title. I decided in that moment to call her ¡®Princess¡¯ until she recognized me and beat me senseless.


    I sat, watching her observantly from the chair until she shot me a sidelong glance. It was as if she didn¡¯t know whether to spring up from the bed and go straight for my jugular¡ªor to cry. I kept a neutral expression as we locked eyes, propping my head on my fist as I leaned into the arm of the chair. She was analyzing me¡ªanalyzing herself, and the words she wanted to say. Hala opened her mouth as if to speak, but shut it again as her eyes fell to the bedspread.


    ¡°Abyad¡­¡± she finally said after sitting in silent deliberation. ¡°What he did to me was horrible.¡± She nearly whispered. She was more than broken. The woman before me was completely shattered, and it enraged me. I had to talk Namir out of storming to Otlak a few hours ago; and sitting with her in that moment, as she spoke with such defeat, made me wish I hadn¡¯t.


    ¡°I can tell¡­¡± I replied, my voice as calm as I could get it. I clenched my jaw, watching as she swallowed harshly.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡ª¡± she paused, steeling her resolve. ¡°I don¡¯t know why he changed the way he did¡­one day, I was his favorite person. The epitome of beauty, in his eyes¡­and the next¡ª¡± she stopped herself once more, her eyes filled with anger and sadness. ¡°The next he was accusing me of defiling our marriage with a damned eunuch.¡±


    I raised my eyebrows, and crossed my legs towards her as I remained in the chair. Silence. Silence was my best option if I wanted to hear the details of what had occurred in the nine years she¡¯d gone without speaking to us.


    ¡°All we did was have tea together! The man was the only person in the entire palace who¡¯d¡­he said I couldn¡¯t clean, or cook, or have even a patch in the garden to myself! He told me that my family hadn¡¯t written¡ª!¡± Her voice shook. ¡°He told me I was a disgrace¡ªa whore who deserved nothing more than what he gave¡­¡±


    I tightened my free hand on the arm of the chair, and blinked slowly. Breathe. I had to breathe.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t deserve any of that¡­did I?¡± Her eyes met mine again, and the moonlight reflecting off of her gaunt face was haunting.


    I clicked my tongue and removed my fist from under my chin, sitting up straight as I looked her dead in the eyes.


    ¡°Hala,¡± I began¡ªI¡¯d spare her from my running gag just this once. ¡°You didn¡¯t deserve any of what happened to you. I don¡¯t know what that bastard did, but he¡¯s going to pay.¡± I made sure my worse were succinct. Her eyes softened as tears brimmed them, and she brought her hands to her face once more.


    I wanted to scoop her into my arms in that moment, but she was much too fragile. I thought I¡¯d snap her in two when I held her on the horse, and the sheer emotion within me wouldn¡¯t offer me the same restraint as those initial days. I couldn¡¯t do anything but sit and watch as the woman I loved sobbed silently. She finally spoke again, her voice muffled, heavy with upset as she covered her face.


    ¡°I begged him, Abyad. Every night, I begged and pleaded for him to stop. He wouldn¡¯t stop. He wouldn¡¯t stop.¡± She repeated as her voice went near-silent while she choked back more tears. Her breathing sputtered, and her bony back raised in shuddering upheavals.


    A wall. I had to be a wall. I couldn¡¯t go flying off the handle, emotionally, in front of her. I said the only thing I could: a common phrase in Mahsulah.


    ¡°Ya, Hala, Ana dhebron folora kazeh¡­kazeh mo dhebron folora ana.¡±


    You brought me flowers, so too will I bring them to you.


    Her crying stopped as she lowered her hands, eyes wide with bewilderment. Maybe she understood more than she thought.


    ¡°You¡¯ll never wake up there again, Hala.¡± I reassured her. I couldn¡¯t tell if she wanted to bite my head off, or if she appreciated such a childish saying. ¡°In that palace, in that building¡­in Otlak. You¡¯ll never be there again. I promise.¡± I continued.


    She kept her eyes on me, gripping the sheet she laid beneath tightly. That small, boney hand would lead our people some day. I had to remind myself of that as she stared into my eyes with such a pitiful expression.


    ¡°I want him dead.¡± She whispered. ¡°I want his head on a fucking pike.¡± Her voice grew louder as she seethed.


    Three things hadn¡¯t changed, now; her smart ass mouth; her disdain of me calling her by her title; and her short temper. Her tiny frame shook as she tried to cap her anger, and I couldn¡¯t stop my body from moving to the bed again as I brought her into my arms. Guttural cries, even louder than those she released in the forest, came from her chest as she gripped my tunic tightly. I laid my head atop hers, rubbing her shoulder softly as I held her. I¡¯d never heard her like this, not even on the ride back from Otlak when she cried in her sleep. After what felt like years, the sound of heavy footsteps came barreling towards the room.


    ¡°Abyad, what¡¯s going on?¡± Namir asked as he laid eyes on me. I couldn¡¯t do much but offer a hesitant look to him, knowing Hala couldn¡¯t understand us as we spoke Mahsulah.


    ¡°She¡¯s grieving.¡± I said.


    Namir replied to my look with an expectant one, as I removed my arms from around Hala. The King took my place on the bed once I stood, and took his daughter in his arms. She was almost protesting the gesture, looking at me with exasperation before looking up to Namir. Her words in Otlank made me shrink.


    ¡°Papa, el tetzansk vretuli na?! El traviste! Tzetsuk el antierne?! Tzetsuk despisan vretula?!¡±


    Father, did you know what he was going to do to me?! It was horrible! Do you hate me?! Do you hate your own daughter?!


    I was at a loss for words. Her bitter tone coupled with the rigidity of the language even made Namir balk in response. He didn¡¯t understand her, and I was the unfortunate bastard who got to play translator.


    ¡°What did she say?¡± Namir asked quietly.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    I hesitated as the King looked at me. ¡°She¡¯s upset to have been in Otlak, Your Highness.¡± I paraphrased.


    His eyes filled with annoyance as he gripped Hala tighter. She was fighting him to the best of her ability, and I couldn¡¯t imagine the pain she had to be in with her wounds.


    ¡°Cut the shit, boy. What did she ask?¡± He demanded in a threatening tone.


    I told the truth. ¡°She asked why you sent her to Otlak, and if you hate her.¡± I said tersely. I left out the part where she was now cursing his name to Otlakian Gods as she fought against him. Namir¡¯s eyes darkened, and he looked down at Hala. His gaze lingered, before he looked back at me. He didn¡¯t have to tell me what he wanted to say.


    ¡°Hala, your father doesn¡¯t hate you¡­¡± I told her.


    She shrieked back at me in Otlank, still fighting off her Father¡¯s impenetrable grasp. ¡°Then why?! Why else would he send me there?! There¡¯s no other reason, besides him hating me!¡±


    Namir looked worse than I¡¯d ever seen him, distraught beyond my comprehension. His puzzled expression made me sigh, as I translated for her again.


    ¡°She just keeps asking the same thing, Namir.¡± I said in Mahsulah. ¡°She can¡¯t comprehend why else you¡¯d have sent her there besides hating her.¡±


    Namir loosed a breath, his gaze returning to his daughter as he spoke in words she couldn¡¯t understand. ¡°Hala, I¡¯d never have sent you if I¡¯d known he was going to¡ª¡± he paused, unable to comprehend what had happened to his daughter out of his sight.


    ¡°I don¡¯t hate you, Mitalah. I could never hate you. I don¡¯t even fully understand what happened to you, dear. You have to tell me so that I can do something for you.¡± For the first time, I heard Namir pleading for something.


    I nodded sadly, and translated the sentiment. Hala was feral, at that point; her grief had gotten the better of her. She wriggled and writhed against Namir as if her very life depended on it, cursing his name and saying things I knew she didn¡¯t mean. I don¡¯t even know if she heard me, if she heard Namir through such vicious rage.


    ¡°Let me go!¡± She yelled. ¡°I don¡¯t want you touching me! Get away!¡±


    I furrowed my brows, worried for Hala¡¯s physical and mental well-being should this carry on any longer. With a heavy heart, I tried to urge the King to let Hala go.


    ¡°She¡¯s asking you to let her go, Namir.¡± I said solemnly. ¡°She doesn¡¯t want you touching her.¡±


    Namir seemed in shock at the request, holding her even tighter as he replied.


    ¡°What¡­?¡± he asked, more defeated than I¡¯d ever heard him. ¡°And leave her be?! She¡¯s my daughter, Abyad!¡±


    My lips drew into a thin line as I pursed them, trying to diffuse the situation.


    ¡°She¡¯ll open a wound if she keeps fighting against you like that, Namir. Let her go.¡± I urged once more. His response was to look at me like an imprudent child who didn¡¯t want to put down a toy in a shoppe that he desperately wanted. I wrung my hands together, feeling my own temper growing thin. I shot him one last warning glance that went ignored before I marched to the door, opened it, and yelled at the highest volume I could muster.


    ¡°HAYA!¡±


    The few servants who littered the halls became urgent, looking around for Hala¡¯s mother or heading for the couple¡¯s room. Within a few seconds, a servant was leading her towards Hala¡¯s room. The Queen¡¯s face was tense with worry, her eyes soft as satin as she glided down the halls; her silken robe flowed behind her. Ever serious, she was everything I hoped to see Hala become, some day. As if she were a healthier¡ªhealed version of the Princess. Haya ignored me entirely, pushing past me as she entered the room. That part of Haya, Hala could do without.


    ¡°She wants him off of her.¡± I snitched. Haya shot Namir a scornful glare, which made him instantly release Hala. He stood from the bed, and it was now Haya¡¯s turn to quell the beast that was their daughter.


    I shut the door to her room as Haya gripped Hala¡¯s shoulders, looking her daughter in the eyes. She then took Hala¡¯s face in her hands, rubbing her daughter¡¯s sunken cheek with her thumb.


    ¡°Hala¡­¡± Haya said softly. It was like they were two sides of the same coin. ¡°Look at me, dear.¡±


    I don¡¯t know how, but Hala understood her. It was as if Haya¡¯s gentleness was a language of its own as she looked lovingly into Hala¡¯s eyes. Hala¡¯ chest rose and fell erratically, and I could see the pent up stress within her.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. You¡¯re okay.¡± She said in Mahsulah. She took her hand from Hala¡¯s, pointing around the room before bringing the hand back to her heart. ¡°You¡¯re with people who love you.¡±


    Hala¡¯s eyes softened, and her shoulders slumped as tears welled in her eyes once more.


    ¡°Mama, Papa de¡ª¡± Hala began, only to be cut off by her mother dotingly hushing her.


    ¡°Shh¡­¡± she cooed as she drew Hala in for a hug. ¡°You¡¯re okay.¡±


    Namir brought a hand to his face, and I watched with both awe and devastation as Haya soothed Hala. For a sliver of a second, I thought I heard Namir sniffle. It was one of the most difficult nights of my life, watching it all unfold and being almost completely powerless. It felt like the Kingdom of Mahsul wouldn¡¯t get its peace back for decades. Haya rubbed Hala¡¯s back, sitting with her in silence before Hala asked something that entirely broke me.


    ¡°Mother¡­?¡± She whimpered.


    ¡°Hm?¡± Haya replied.


    ¡°Even though I¡¯m tarnished, why do you still love me?¡±


    Haya looked at me with innocent eyes, completely unaware of the words that had just left Hala¡¯s mouth. I didn¡¯t want to play translator, anymore. I loosed a breath, and repeated the question in Mahsulah for Haya to understand. Namir had to step out of the room after I¡¯d translated such a heavy question, and if I hadn¡¯t been caught in the middle of it all I would have joined him.


    Haya¡¯s face fell as she looked Hala in the eyes. ¡°You are not tainted, Hala. You¡¯re still strong, and powerful. I love you because you are my child¡ªmy baby.¡± She replied, cupping Hala¡¯s face in her hand. Hala¡¯s mouth curled into a frown once more at her mother as she tried to steady her breaths.


    I lingered for a few moments, questioning whether or not the women may need a translator again before making the decision to leave the room, myself. I rubbed my face vigorously after shutting the door, my eyes tearing up from the sheer exhaustion I felt. I drew in a breath before following Namir down the marble halls, hot on his heels.


    ¡°Namir.¡± I called, falling in line with his steps.


    ¡°I can¡¯t talk right now, Abyad.¡± He replied flatly.


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t hate you, Namir, she¡¯s just upset by her experience. I promise, you¡¯ll grow close again¡ª¡°


    ¡°I said I can¡¯t talk right now, Skwayar.¡± Namir interjected, raising his voice.


    I knew better than to talk back to him when he was in such a state. I shot a sidelong glance at him, noting each line in his face that wrinkled with worry. He wasn¡¯t the Mighty Al¡¯Namir in that moment; he was a father who felt like his daughter would never love him again. The image was dour. I let him walk a few paces ahead of me, slowing my gait and watching as he opened the heavy door to the throne room. After it shut, I was entirely alone in the halls¡ªor so I thought, until I looked to my left and noticed a familiar set of red eyes peering at me through the darkness. Fiid. I thought.


    ¡°What is it, Br¨°n?¡± I barked.


    ¡°It¡¯s bin a heavy day, eh?¡± He asked, speaking fluent Mahsulah with his usual accent as he materialized.


    I was astonished at how proficient the man had become in the language, only to remember he was immortal, with immortal powers.


    ¡°You could say that¡­¡± I replied, crossing my arms.


    ¡°Don¡¯tcha think the King needs a little hug?¡± He asked, a playful smile painting his lips.


    I raised an eyebrow at him, imagining Namir socking me in the gut for trying to hug him right then.


    ¡°If you think he needs a hug so bad, you do it.¡± I spat in response.


    Br¨°n chuckled, and shrugged his shoulders. ¡°Maybe I will.¡± He said.


    I loosed a breath as I began walking down the hall, back towards my room. I was more than done with the day, having just returned home after the trip to and from Otlak. I was still trying to figure out how to handle Shahin¡ªI hadn¡¯t expected to end up back in Mahsul with Hala. The 22 days straight of travel were getting to me now, it was a matter of time before I lost my cool.

 Chapter 18 (TW)

    A thick, woeful air filled the palace over the coming weeks, with Hala¡¯s fits becoming more volatile and explosive. On multiple occasions, eunuchs who had entered her room to clean or bring her food would walk in to find the Princess sobbing quietly. In an attempt to help, they¡¯d try to comfort her. While their words were difficult to fully make sense of, Hala had begun to pick Mahsulah up again at a novice level. The eunuchs would try to quell her upset, only to be snapped at in Otlank that she couldn¡¯t fully reply to them. The harshness of Otlank as a language was off-putting to the non-speakers, causing them to feel like they¡¯d done something wrong; thus, they¡¯d go fetch Abyad or Br¨°n from somewhere in the palace to calm her.


    Hala¡¯s volatility most always stemmed from her inability to communicate, and she had grown tired of only having men to talk to. Br¨°n would let Hala cry, but he¡¯d almost always tell her to stop eventually, and that she had to grow past her trauma. Abyad, on the other hand, would remain quiet unless he had words of wisdom or kindness to offer the Princess. He¡¯d mutter under his breath in Mahsulah, a bad habit that frustrated the Princess¡ªbut was also part of what helped her begin to re-learn her mother tongue. There were times that, during her more explosive fits of grief, she was only able to be calmed down by Haya. Namir, on the other hand, seemed to be a trigger for her. Any time he visited, he¡¯d be forced to leave immediately, lest Hala start screaming at the top of her lungs in Otlank.


    Haya was Hala¡¯s only true peace. Being held by her mother in her bed brought her back to a calmed baseline. Haya would lay there in silence with her until she calmed down, and then she¡¯d sing her daughter Mahsullian lullabies. She¡¯d sometimes teach her how to count, or point to random things in Hala¡¯s room and tell her what the object was in Mahsulah. Her heart always grew heavy when she was asked to enter Hala¡¯s room, more so than when she¡¯d visited her room before Hala¡¯s return home. The sight of her daughter, still sickly thin and bandaged, made her stomach tie up in knots. She wanted so desperately to heal her, praying every night for her to find peace and get back to good health.


    Namir would come into their bedroom some nights to find Haya prostrated in prayer, reciting holy texts in a plea for her daughter¡¯s health to the God/s above. The King would feel his chest tighten, hearing his wife¡¯s tear-filled prayers. He¡¯d occasionally purify himself with a bath to join her, reciting the same verses. Partially, in an act of support of his wife¡¯s piety, but partially in an attempt to find control over their situation, and trying to find a way to stop his daughter¡¯s resentment towards him. He¡¯d pray alone, sometimes, begging the God/s above to forgive him for his mistake. He¡¯d never show his wife his tear-filled eyes, nor Abyad or Asad. He¡¯d keep his emotions bottled until he thought he was entirely alone, only to let out a few tears before gritting his jaw and forcing them to stop flowing.


    Every night, the sound of Hala¡¯s shrill voice would echo through the palace, shrieking out the same phrase in a blood-curdling cry:


    ¡°Chrivask, blisovnyiy! Strinze vretula!¡±


    Abyad would awaken by her cries, as he slept just a few chambers down, knowing he and Br¨°n were the only ones to understand what she¡¯d scream: a formal plea for her husband to stop hurting her. His chest would tighten at how her voice broke, knowing she was reliving the same nights over and over again in her sleep. One night, the scream had been particularly disturbing to him. Her voice grated, sounding more distressed than usual, and the cadence jarred his very soul. He jumped out of his bed, and slid into the nearest robe he had, tying it loosely. He took long strides down the hall, getting to her room promptly before opening the door with no announcement.


    ¡°Hala.¡± He said firmly.


    Hala stayed in her dream, laying on her stomach in agony. Abyad crept closer, noticing an abnormal spot on the white sheet. Upon closer examination, he noticed she¡¯d opened a wound while tossing and turning. His blood ran cold as he removed the sheet, taking in how much she¡¯d bled through her bandaging. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Hala.¡± He repeated, still firm but louder than before.


    He jostled her, forcing her to wake from her nightmare in a cold sweat. Upon seeing his icy eyes reflected in the moonlight, she gasped and pushed herself up from the bed. She let out a high pitched whine, her face twisted in pain. Abyad quickly placed his arm around her waist to help her sit, moving her so that her back faced the moonlight.


    ¡°You¡¯re bleeding, Themaz.¡± He said groggily. ¡°How did this happen?¡± He asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Hala replied quietly, still shaken from her nightmare.


    Abyad sighed internally, getting a new roll of bandages from her bedside drawer and setting it on the table. He placed his hand at the collar of her robe, tugging on it.


    ¡°Take your robe off.¡± He told her.


    Hala untied her robe, unable to do much more than that. Abyad, though still partially-asleep, noticed her inability to move and lowered the robe himself.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t hurt me¡­¡± she pleaded.


    Abyad felt both heartbroken and angry at her request as he loosened the gauze tied poorly around her back, noticing that whichever maiden or servant had been tasked with her bandaging had done a shoddy job and leaving them much too loose to keep the healing wound taught in place. His frustration grew stronger as he untucked the end of the gauze.


    ¡°I¡¯d never, Themaz.¡± He said, unraveling her bandaging.


    Hala kept quiet as Abyad finished gathering the supplies needed to tend to her wounds, lightly washing them and applying pressure to the reopened carving in her back. Her head grew light, as if a warm halo had surrounded her skull. She felt a shaking deep in her diaphragm that she¡¯d never felt before, even when faced with prior flashbacks, making her entire body tremble. Abyad thought she was trembling in pain, but he was sorely mistaken. The feeling of blood trickling down her back as a wet cloth made its way across her spine did something to her¡ªawakening sensations and emotions she¡¯d hoped to forget. The window to her right began to shrink, resembling the windows of Shahin¡¯s palace in Otlak. The walls turned from a pure, true white, to a pale yellow as the sound of a fireplace crackling filled her ears, and Shahin¡¯s haunting voice antagonized her from behind.


    ¡°What is it, Song Bird? Does it hurt?¡±


    Hala¡¯s shoulders trembled uncontrollably, and Abyad pulled the cloth from her back. The amount of blood coming from her wound seemed improbable as the cause of her trembling, thus, he spoke up:


    ¡°Hala, are you okay? Am I hurting you?¡± Abyad repeated his question.


    Her shoulders shook even more, making him grow more concerned. He peeked over her shoulder, looking at her face. It had grown distant, and blank in expression, save for the tears streaming down her face. Her next words woke him up from his half-tired state entirely.


    ¡°Blisovnyiy, atierne vretula na?¡±


    Abyad didn¡¯t know what to say. He returned to tending to her back, keeping quiet and opening the healing salve. She clearly thought he was Shahin, asking him why he¡¯d hurt her so badly. Abyad began to smear the salve along her wounds, and she quietly cried and whimpered at his touch.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be good, dear, I swear¡­please¡­don¡¯t make me go back tomorrow night¡­¡± she begged, barely above a whisper.


    Abyad thought it best to keep from feeding into whatever she was experiencing, keeping his mouth shut for the time being. He finished applying the salve, letting it set for a moment before picking up the bandages. As he began to wrap her, she spoke once more; bringing him to a new discovery.


    ¡°Why did you rape me?¡± she cried quietly, bringing her hands to her face to wipe her tears.

 Chapter 19: Abyad (semi-TW)

    I didn¡¯t think I could be angrier than the moment Hala had been tossed into my arms by Br¨°n, 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¡ªthe 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¡ªthe 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¡ªHala¡¯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¡ªa 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¡ªI 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¡ªbut 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.

 Chapter 20: Hala

    I awoke the next morning to the floral fragrance of Tiger Lilies tickling my nostrils. As my eyes fluttered open, I caught their vibrant red and orange petals in my peripheral. The sight alone stirred a memory within me I thought I¡¯d lost to time.


    ¡®Tiger Lilies would be nice¡­¡¯


    ¡®Much more befitting of the daughter of Al¡¯Namir.¡¯


    My eyes burned with a sobering sense of awakening, and my heart lurched. There was no way I had been so stupid, so unimaginably ignorant. My body moved faster than I could think, grabbing one of the flowers from the intricately blown vase and springing up from the bed. My feet argued with me each step to the door, begging me to stop, but I prevailed. I was resilient. My time in Otlak was proof of that. If I could survive six years of brutal torture, I was more than capable of walking the distance it took to find my childhood friend. I opened the door and strode through the halls¡ªlimped may be a more apt descriptor¡ªas servants and maidens and eunuchs watched me with looks of bewilderment. For the first time in nine years, the palace staff laid eyes upon me. For the first time in nine years, I was walking with more of a purpose than ever. For the first time in nine years: I was going to see Idris. I remembered his curly, unkempt hair. The way he shrank in the presence of strangers. I recalled how he spoke with the calmness of Jidhaq fasting, and his ability to deceive even the wisest of scholars into believing a tall tale he¡¯d weaved together in the blink of an eye. The memories were clearer than the daylight that flooded the large windows of the palace, shimmering upon the marble flooring.


    The maidens and eunuchs littering the halls scrambled at my sudden appearance, both amazed and horrified by what they saw. One step at a time I willed my body. One step at a time my body barked back in anger. I stared down a servant, beckoning him over, and he ushered to me with haste.


    ¡°Have you seen Abyad?¡± I managed to ask in a shoddy string of Mahsulah.


    ¡°¡­over by the training grounds with Asad, Your Highness¡­¡± was all I could understand as he concernedly tried to offer me help. I refused it, biting back the anguish that tore through my body as I walked further. I managed a faster pace than I¡¯d expected, nothing but sheer determination fueling my steps.


    One step at a time. I reminded myself.


    Palace staff watched through the courtyards, eyeing me with disbelief. It almost made me angry¡ªI was more than some damaged girl who¡¯d found the courage to walk. I was the daughter of Al¡¯Namir¡ªhow dare they balk at my tenacity?


    I laid eyes upon the sparring grounds in no time, still clutching the stem of the Tiger Lily tight in my fist. I saw Uncle before anyone else¡ªhis large frame almost dwarfing Abyad¡¯s more lean build. He was no Uncle, but by God he had become such a large man. I gathered all the air I could in my winded lungs, all the courage from within my weak body.


    ¡°Abyad!¡± I called from the other end of the sparring grounds.


    Abyad turned around, his face filling with apprehension as he laid eyes upon me.


    ¡°Hala¡­?¡± He asked as he jogged over to me with wide eyes. I stared at him, willing myself to continue standing despite my body¡¯s pleas to stop.


    ¡°I came to ask you¡­¡± I began, taking a tired breath and lifting up the Tiger Lily. ¡°If you had any clue as to who brought me a bouquet of these¡­this morning¡­¡± Abyad smiled warmly at me in response.


    ¡°It was me, Princess. I saw them in the garden and asked a servant to bring them to your room. They¡¯re stunning, aren¡¯t they?¡± He asked.


    I looked at him with a perplexed, scornful expression.


    ¡°They are¡­but why this flower?¡±


    ¡°Because¡­¡± Abyad said, offering a playful look. ¡°They suit you.¡±


    ¡°Abyad¡­you¡­¡± I said, trying my hardest to hold myself up on my own two feet. ¡°You¡¯re playing a joke on me, aren¡¯t you?¡± My knees gave out after that.


    Abyad¡¯s face fell, just like my body had, as he quickly reached out and caught me. I let out a pained moan, feeling his arm slam into my back to break my fall.


    ¡°A joke? No, Themaz, the flowers suit you.¡± He repeated. His eyes had a glimmer in them that I recognized, almost like he was trying to hold back a laugh.


    ¡°You¡¯re the worst, you know that?¡± I spat. ¡°You bring me these flowers; make me come all the way out here to you to ask about them, and then answer with ¡®they suit you, Themaz,¡¯¡± I mocked his voice as I spoke, my face scrunched with pain and annoyance as I shot him daggers. It felt like there wasn¡¯t enough strength in the world to hold me up using my own feet. He was holding most of my weight, and even then, I was still gripping his tunic with all my power to stay upright.


    Abyad let out a small laugh, as Uncle finally made his way over to us. The two had a quick exchange of words that I didn¡¯t fully understand. I could tell Uncle wasn¡¯t pleased to see me out and about¡ªhe was disgruntled, to say the least. He looked from me to my friend, the same disapproving glare as when he¡¯d first caught us on the beach all those years ago. Another demand from Uncle, and Abyad nodded as he loosed another breathy laugh. I was fully wrapped in his arms, now, as he carried me with a smirk and murmured something under his breath in Mahsulah. I shot him an annoyed glance, unable to understand him.


    ¡°What did you just say?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Nothing, Princess.¡± He chuckled.


    I wanted to smack him. He knew how I felt about him calling me by my title¡ªeven when I didn¡¯t know who he was, I¡¯d told him to stop using it. Idris could see the annoyance on my face, his smile growing wider. He was enjoying this.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you.¡± I spat. ¡°I wasted my time thinking about you.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Abyad questioned with a wry smile, peering down at me. ¡°Have I been the topic of your daydreams, Princess?¡±


    He was smug now, much more smug than our childhood. I couldn¡¯t blame him, though. He went from a young boy whose clothes swallowed him whole to a strapping young man, wearing clothing that had been tailored to the centimeter to fit his muscle-bound torso. I swallowed the anger that bubbled within my throat, nearly tasting its bile-y presence inside of me.


    I kept my voice quiet, but harsh. ¡°That¡¯s not what I mean.¡±


    ¡°Do explain, then. In detail.¡±


    I eyed him with pure fury for a split second, huffing.


    ¡°I could embarrass you so badly right now, if I wanted to.¡± I threatened. He raised an eyebrow, his smile unwavering.


    ¡°And how would you do that?¡± He asked.


    We travelled through the courtyard as I kept my harsh words to myself. The servants who had gawked at me before were in for an even more entertaining show, now. My face was hot with embarrassment, being carried by the boy I once ran laps around. It was its own form of torture, watching them whisper amongst themselves smiling. A particular woman caught sight of us in an interesting dress, one I¡¯d never dare to wear in public, with a plunging neckline. The dress was hardly long enough to cover her behind, making my own legs grow goosebumps imagining the air against them. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Her eyes narrowed on me, before widening in disbelief. I instinctually buried my head into Abyad¡¯s chest to hide from her scornful gaze, much too embarrassed to maintain eye contact. The woman was familiar, but I had hardly regained the memories of my early teens at the time to recognize her fully.


    ¡°How might you embarrass me?¡± He asked again, stopping in his tracks. It was as if he wanted the woman to see us together.


    ¡°Don¡¯t test me, Abyad.¡± I growled, head still buried.


    ¡°I¡¯d love nothing more.¡± He quipped back in response.


    My cheeks were burning. With a sheepish expression, I squared my shoulders to the best of my ability. Putting on a facade of confidence, I picked my head up from his chest and looked him in the eyes.


    ¡°I¡¯m no idiot, Idris.¡± I said, just loud enough for him to hear.


    His eyes widened, and I relished in the stifled bristle I felt from his body. The woman watching us was frozen with envy, but I had hardly noticed her as Idris braved my taunting. Another hypnotic smile graced his features as he stepped back into his facade.


    ¡°I never said you were.¡± He drew close to my face as he said it, his voice lulling me into relaxing my shoulders.


    ¡°I just wanted to quicken the process.¡±


    ¡°Quicken your steps.¡± I managed to muster.


    He was right in front of me, his eyes searing into mine. Our lips were far too close¡ªour noses almost touching. I wriggled from the discomfort, trying to create some distance. Idris¡¯ newfound strength¡ªit was a vice-like grip, keeping me in place. I would have panicked, had I not been so familiar with the man who kept our faces so unbearably close.


    ¡°I¡¯d rather not.¡± He japed, readjusting me in his arms before pulling away. My cheeks had to have been more blushed than ever. I could feel the heat beneath them, bubbling and simmering. The wounds in my back were a dull ache as I watched him with baited breath.


    Abyad fell into a casual pace once more, strolling through the courtyard with me as if I were a set of armor he¡¯d been tasked to deliver back to Father¡¯s armory. I forgot how far I¡¯d walked on my own. The trip back to my room felt like it took an entire season. It wasn¡¯t until we were out of that woman¡¯s sight that Idris¡¯ facade fell once more, and his steps quickened. Servants made way for us, some of the same faces I¡¯d seen as I made my way to the training grounds now watched me with disappointment or remorse.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you lied to me.¡± I said, my voice showing more hurt than I¡¯d have wanted.


    ¡°Did I lie?¡± He asked. ¡°You never mentioned an ¡®Idris¡¯.¡±


    I kept my mouth shut. He was right. I hadn¡¯t directly asked about Idris, not to his face or to any of the servants. Maybe it was because something deep within me knew he was there the whole time. Maybe it was out of fear that he¡¯d abandoned me. Whatever the reason, I felt nothing but a simmering anger at how right he was. When we made it to the Grand Building, he held me in one arm as he opened the doors. I winced, and his apologetic eyes met mine. I knew he was doing this for me, to help me, but I couldn¡¯t help the annoyed glance I shot him. He was Idris in that moment. The way his shoulders slumped as his arms wrapped back around me. The way his feet almost dragged as he made it to my quarters, braving each step up. He managed to get the door open with both arms still wrapped around me, his elbows doing most of the work on the lever.


    ¡°Idris, I¡ª¡± I began.


    ¡°I¡¯d prefer not to be called that, Princess.¡± He said quietly. I bristled at his words.


    ¡°Why not?¡± I asked innocently.


    Abyad steeled his resolve, shifting on his feet as if ready to get into a brawl. I almost sank into the bed, my body finally catching up with all of the movement I¡¯d forced it through.


    ¡°Because, Hala. I¡¯ve always hated my name. I¡¯m no mastermind. My parents gave me my name in hopes I¡¯d make it somewhere¡ªdo something. I didn¡¯t get here from my own plotting or scheming. I couldn¡¯t even stop you from¡­¡± His throat bobbed. ¡°From that bastard.¡±


    My face softened at his words, heart wrenching in sadness. Idris truly blamed himself for everything. He didn¡¯t see how brilliant he was. He was unaware of how I saw him¡ªas both a man, and my friend. I was rigid with apprehension as I sat there, watching him with a pained expression.


    ¡°Abyad¡­¡± I said, feeling the name as foreign to me as my own mother tongue. ¡°I¡¯d never blame you for this. You told me that you didn¡¯t want me to go¡ª¡±


    ¡°And it still wasn¡¯t enough.¡± He interjected.


    ¡°We were young, Abyad. We were children.¡± My voice strained in desperation, my heart aching for him to understand.


    ¡°And I spent my time as a child hiding¡ªfrom you, from your Father and Uncle; from the strength I could have attained earlier on. I could have done more, Hala.¡±


    He was holding back tears as he spoke, voice thick with emotion. An opining desire to have accomplished the impossible in what little time we¡¯d had together. The daylight was at its peak by now, shining on his face. His eyes were the same shade of blue as the Hydrangeas we¡¯d passed in the courtyard, pinning me in place as tears threatened them. I was more than captivated by the man before me; still the meager boy I¡¯d once known, but hiding it now with a charming facade.


    ¡°You couldn¡¯t have been a better friend to me in those years, Idr¡ªAbyad.¡± I had to correct myself. ¡°Please¡­I¡¯m telling you¡­you had nothing to do with what I¡¯ve become. I¡¯m like this because my father decided to marry me off to a despicable human being. This had nothing to do with you, and everything to do with him.¡± Bitterness lined my voice.


    ¡°Your Father was backed into a corner, Hala. Shahin tried to ruin Mahsul¡¯s reputation, and he wasn¡¯t going to let up until he was given your hand. He lied about Zarvan, he lied about taking care of you.¡± Idris replied with an authoritative edge. He was trying to offer insight, but I was having none of it.


    ¡°So then he should have let Mahsul¡¯s name get dragged through the dirt.¡± I replied coldly.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure he wishes he had. He hasn¡¯t seen your back, Hala, both Br¨°n and I specifically told him he shouldn¡¯t.¡± He explained.


    ¡°Because you want to shield him from the consequences of his decision?¡± I asked with an edge.


    ¡°No, Hala, because he¡¯d probably declare war on Otlak if he saw what¡¯d happened to you!¡± He was almost screaming, talking with his hands as I sat gripping the side of the mattress; anger¡¯s bile-y taste now present on my tongue, in my throat.


    ¡°And why would that be so bad?!¡± I matched his volume.


    ¡°We can¡¯t just go about that right now.¡± Idris sighed, bringing his hands to his eyes and massaging them.


    I felt my heart in my stomach, like I was falling from the highest peak of the palace. I¡¯d never get the vindication I wanted so severely, so desperately. My hands shook with anger as I clamped down harder on the bed, furling the sheets in my fists. I wished I had the ability to lash out like a child in that moment. My back made that far too difficult. Not only were my emotions bubbling within me, a kettle on high; my body was in resounding pain. I fought tears as I looked to Abyad, his hands falling back to his side as chagrin filled those ever-clear, usually calm, eyes. He was at war with himself.


    ¡°Forgive me¡­¡± he murmured in Mahsulah as he walked up to the edge of the bed. His arms wrapped around me in their usual fashion, my head pressed against his abdomen. He was so strong, I could feel it beneath his tunic, but he always managed to keep his touch so gentle with me. For the first time since coming home all those weeks ago, it clicked: Idris was hugging me. My hands loosened from the bedside, reaching up, up, up as they shook. How they managed to settle around his waist, I¡¯m unsure. I hugged him back, the smell of Agar Wood filling my nostrils. A scent I hadn¡¯t noticed before.


    ¡°When did you start wearing musk?¡± I asked trying to stave off the lump in my throat. I needed a distraction.


    ¡°Several years ago.¡± He replied. Air blew through his nostrils¡ªa laugh.


    ¡°And how long were you going to keep your identity from me?¡± I questioned, my voice raising in pitch.


    ¡°As long as it took for you to recognize me. I figured you needed a little help.¡±


    Craning my neck to look up at him, I caught his real smile. His full lips were thin now, as they pulled to the corners of his mouth. Pure ivory were his teeth, and a hint of pain in his cool eyes. This was the smile I was used to from him, always slightly upset about something. Most people didn¡¯t see it: how the left side of his mouth twitched when he was smiling. He never showed them that, especially now that he¡¯d mastered a philanderer of a persona.


    The idea of Idris; little, skinny Idris, standing fully in that persona as he walked through the courtyard, his hand lingering on that woman¡¯s hip, flashed through my mind. The same woman who¡¯d eyed me with envy. It was almost laughable. But that day, he was more than glorious after training¡ªhe was aglow. The seductive air about him made my heart gallop, as I sat in my bed watching him. How the woman enraged me; hanging by his neck like a lemur from a branch. When he smiled at her, his mouth hadn¡¯t twitched. He was fluid. Graceful. His eyes were filled with the same amusement as a cat capturing a Kilsank Dove. He wasn¡¯t the man he was in the very moment he was looking at me.


    I didn¡¯t want to stop looking at this smile. He looked more like Idris in that moment than any other, despite the once unkempt curls that were now meticulously styled to fall back and away from his face. Despite his once scrawny shoulders that were now broad and brawny, with fabric that hugged them so flatteringly. He wasn¡¯t Abyad¡ªhe was still shy, little Idris. I wondered if he still saw me for my younger self, in that moment, despite the way my eyes had lost their fire. I was a smothered flame by now, without so much as coals beneath the dirt that had put me out. Fate had bestowed me horrible dealings, and I didn¡¯t know if I¡¯d ever come out on top. I forced a small smile to my face, trying so hard to pretend I wasn¡¯t broken and beyond repair.


    ¡°You¡¯re a jerk.¡± I insulted.


    ¡°I know.¡± He replied, the left corner of his mouth twitching again as he still bore that brilliant smile.


    Despite the clouds that loomed over my mind, body, and soul¡ªthere he was again. A guiding light; a beacon of hope.

 Chapter 21: Abyad

    Seeing Hala as she stood at the outskirts of the sparring area, looking at me with such a desperate desire to uncover my true identity, was something that set both my body and heart ablaze. She stood tall¡ªregally¡ªas if she¡¯d just befallen a thousand men on a battlefield. If she were in any condition to handle it, I¡¯d have scooped her into my arms and taken her to her bedroom once Asad had demanded it and devoured her. I¡¯d have let the pent up emotions within me flow freely, without restraint. How I longed for that day to come¡ªfor her to be both mentally and physically able to handle it. It had been an unspoken attraction, lingering stares and passing comments. I¡¯d hinted at it, and she returned it with such chilling heat.


    As I caught sight of Jamila on the way back to her quarters, I knew it was time to make a statement. I may have played into her flirting, but the woman I so desperately desired was in my arms¡ªbefore her very eyes. It may have been a foolish, reckless thing to do, but when Hala uttered my birth-given name; I had to tease her for it, physically and mentally. I pulled her close enough to kiss, just enough to leave her on edge as I dared test her. To leave her imagining how it could feel, having me so close. I also wanted Jamila to see how, no matter how hard she tried, I¡¯d never offer her such proximity. I¡¯d never look into her eyes the way I did Hala¡¯s. It wasn¡¯t until we strode a good few feet away that I was sure she was no longer watching. I knew then, that I was able to quicken my steps to get Hala back to bed, back to comfort. She didn¡¯t want people knowing she was in such poor condition. I could tell she was in more pain than most anyone could bear. Moving her to the side, cradling her in one arm, was a foolish decision made known by the whimper she¡¯d let escape her lips as I opened the door to the Grand Building. I felt horrible when she looked at me with such a pained expression.


    During our conversation, I finally let her know the reason for hating my name¡ªthe self-deprecation that had filled my heart for so many years. And she thwarted each negative thought with one of reassurance. I was more than doubtful of her, I didn¡¯t want to believe she still saw me as an innocent bystander. I allowed Hala to be subjected to social alienation, allowed her to marry Shahin without so much as a fighting chance to try and stop it¡ªI had allowed myself to believe she was happy out there, until Iirshad and I¡¯s conversations before his death.


    There were so many things I could have said. So many ways I could have agreed with her¡ªto let her know she was right, but I didn¡¯t. I had to sit alone in my room for a while that day, to come to a conclusion on how to broach the topic again. There had to be a way to show her that I wanted to protect her mind, body, and soul from any more pain.


    Before I knew it, I was there. My heart was in my eardrums as I knocked on her door, only to find no answer. I turned the lever down, entering on the padding of my feet. She laid in her bed, sleeping. The exhaustion from overexerting herself was surely deserving of deep rest. I approached her, taking in her features as she slept. It was in those calm first hours of sleep that she remained neutral in expression, if not soft. Her lashes so long, lips barely parted. Worry filled me; would she have a nightmare? Would she be haunted this time, just as she had all the others? I sat on the edge of the mattress, placing a hand on her shoulder as I spoke to her in Mahsulah.


    ¡°Ne kazeh wa ana Themaz, ne ana Themaz mintinakh¡­¡± I murmured.


    You are my dearest friend, my dearest beloved.


    ¡°I know you¡¯re sleeping, Themaz, but I love you.¡± The words fell from my lips in my native tongue with such heart-shattering resonance. Words I¡¯d held onto since I was 17, discovering her betrothal to Shahin. ¡°I¡¯ve loved you for so long that it hurts¡­¡±


    I rubbed my thumb along her shoulder, and her eyes fluttered for a moment. I smiled softly as they opened fully.


    ¡°Abyad¡­?¡± She murmured. Sunset had come, and I could see her eyes as they filled with unease.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Themaz.¡± I reassured her. ¡°I came to check on you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± she said. I tweaked an eyebrow.


    ¡°For what?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Not asking about you¡­¡± her voice was still half-asleep. Raspy and alluring in its rawest form.


    I managed a weak smile in response. ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡± I replied.


    ¡°When you saved me¡­¡± she began, bringing her hand to her eyes to rub the sleep from them. ¡°And I saw your eyes¡­even for just a second¡­I knew it was you.¡±


    My heart swelled. She was always her calmest after waking up in our childhood. There were nights she¡¯d allow me to sleep in her room after I¡¯d had nightmares of my own; memories of living on the streets, and the unspeakable things I¡¯d witnessed would find me in my own slumber. I¡¯d wake up screaming, not too different from how her rest was interrupted now. She always seemed the most level-headed in those early hours after waking, before her temper awoke.


    ¡°I almost didn¡¯t recognize you, that evening¡­¡± I replied. Her eyes filled with hurt, not at what I¡¯d said¡ªbut by what had been done to her.


    ¡°I promise, Hala. You¡¯re still you. You¡¯re still the girl who protected me, who fought for me when no one else would.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I¡¯ll ever be that again, Idris.¡± She said, her voice pained. Her eyes widened as she realized that she¡¯d used my old name.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Abyad.¡± She corrected herself. Without thinking, my hand met her cheek.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, when it comes from you.¡± I said, knowing I¡¯d contradicted myself from the words I¡¯d said earlier. ¡°Just don¡¯t call me that in public, okay?¡± I asked. I couldn¡¯t help my smile growing wider, there was familiarity in this sentiment.


    She nodded, as her hand met mine on her cheek.


    ¡°I thought about you every day I was in Otlak, Abyad. Had I known you¡¯d look like this¡­¡± she trailed off as she looked at me with an attentive eye. She was slowly waking up, her voice becoming more clear as emotion pulled through them.


    I wanted to tease her, but she was being so honest that I wanted to hear more. I wanted her to preen my ego, feed me the words of affirmation I¡¯d been hoping to find in other women, that I knew I¡¯d only accept from her mouth.


    ¡°I think I would have endured 10 more years of such acts at his hands to see your eyes again.¡± She admitted. ¡°To see your real smile¡­¡±


    My breath hitched in my throat. She was waking up fully now, her eyes were wide and coherent. ¡°But I¡¯ll always see you as the tiny boy who I beat in dhrenz.¡± She smiled.


    I returned her smile with one of my own, noting the teasing tone she used. I drew close to her, just as I had when I held her in the courtyard.


    ¡°Once you¡¯re in better shape, we¡¯ll see who wins that game now.¡± I drawled.


    Her cheeks flushed. She was visibly able to remember the game, more akin to wrestling than anything else. Hala always wanted to play games that the young sons of the Sixth Battalion¡¯s played, and I was the one who had to endure such beatings. I had a few rules to change to the game, if we ever decided to lock hands like that again.


    ¡°You¡¯re a brute.¡± She insulted.


    ¡°I¡¯m a man, Hala.¡± I retorted as a chuckle left my lips.


    ¡°A man with a forked tongue.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m serious.¡± I said, looking her in the eyes, my smile falling a bit. We were so close that it hurt. ¡°I¡¯m not a boy anymore, Hala, and you¡¯d best stop looking at me as if you¡¯re ready for anything more than a hug.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about.¡± She nearly snapped as her head turned away from me. I drew back from her, loosing a breath of laughter.


    ¡°If you say so.¡± I replied cryptically.


    ¡°I don¡¯t!¡± She exclaimed quietly. ¡°I¡¯m not even worth a second glance, right now.¡±


    ¡°I beg to differ.¡± I replied coolly, moving my hand from her cheek to her bicep and offering a gentle squeeze. As I stood from the bed, her head turned back to me; her hand caught mine.


    ¡°I¡ªAbyad¡­¡± she stammered. ¡°Would you sit with me?¡± She asked.


    ¡°Just for a while?¡±


    I couldn¡¯t say ¡®no.¡¯ I laughed a breath and nodded, sitting down at the armchair and making myself comfortable. She laid in her bed as the sun began to set. This had to be the time that Shahin would begin his antics, I could tell by how Hala would glance at the door with such a paranoid expression. As if the Duke would burst through the doors at any moment, and snatch her up. The day we first got her back, I wondered if the reason for her awakening in my arms was from Br¨°n¡¯s glamour wearing off. It seemed that sunset was a time ingrained into her internal alarm clock¡ªforcing her to wake up, to be on high alert.


    ¡°He¡¯s not coming.¡± I finally said, breaking the silence.


    ¡°I know.¡± She peeped. ¡°But I still watch.¡±


    ¡°You want me in here to protect you, then?¡± I asked, covering my smile with my hand as I leaned into the arm of the chair.


    ¡°Whatever, Idris.¡± She grumbled, turning onto her side with discomfort lining her face. She watched me, now, and not the door.


    We remained in silence, watching each other with a painfully short distance separating us. I knew she felt it: how badly I wished I could lay in that bed beside her, holding her close to remind her how safe she was. How badly I wanted her. I didn¡¯t want to be gentle, anymore. Hala was walking again, but still hardly ate. She was still so thin that her sternum was visible, though not as severe as she once looked. Her naturally prominent collar bones jutted out, and her cheeks were still slightly hollow. I scratched my chin, trying to stifle the pitiful look I must¡¯ve been giving her and breaking the eye contact.


    ¡°I wish everyone would stop looking at me like I¡¯m going to snap in two.¡± She muttered, her eyes still searing into me. I met those amber-flecked eyes once more, with chagrin.


    ¡°It¡¯s kind of hard not to, Hala.¡± I replied.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine in another month. Watch me.¡± She promised.


    I smiled, and her face softened when we met gazes. I didn¡¯t know what it was about certain times that I smiled, but she would turn to putty in my hands. Usually, I had to play it up for women to act in a similar fashion¡ªbut with her, I was able to smile without thinking about it; she¡¯d nearly purr like a kitten. I enjoyed seeing her less abrasive side. It reminded me of how she looked at the children guiding me through the courtyard, which lead me to speak.


    ¡°You know,¡± I began changing the topic. ¡°Those kids from a few weeks ago turned out to be pretty bad at Chon.¡±


    Her eyes filled with some kind of emotion I couldn¡¯t pin, betraying the neutral tone of her voice. ¡°Oh yeah?¡±


    I nodded, offering a half-smile. ¡°Half of them dropped out of the club they wanted me to lead, the other half are throwing temper tantrums when they lose.¡±


    She loosed a breath of laughter, eyes falling to the ground as she brought her arm up as a pillow. ¡°I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll get the hang of it.¡± She murmured.


    ¡°I hope so¡­¡± I replied.


    ¡°Idris¡­¡± she began, her eyes meeting mine again. She was fighting back tears, and the confusion that flooded me was immeasurable.


    ¡°What is it?¡± I asked breathily.


    She paused, watching me with such focus I¡¯d only seen on her when she was under my scrutinization. The day I¡¯d asked her about loving Shahin in our teen years. My heart lurched in my chest as the sunset¡¯s light bathed half of her face.


    ¡°Never mind¡­¡± Hala said, readjusting herself so that her blanket covered her mouth.

 Chapter 22: Abyad

    It had been ten weeks since Hala had been smuggled back to Mahsul. Weeks spent going over how Otlak may decide to retaliate should Br¨°n¡¯s trickery fall through. Weeks spent going over how to handle it should the plan prevail. Somehow, that immortal had managed to become a familiar¡ªand well liked¡ªface in the palace. Namir never questioned his presence, if anything: he welcomed someone who would challenge his opinions. Asad, on the other hand, didn¡¯t take so kindly to Br¨°n constantly questioning his older brother. I was apathetic, to say the least, considering my days were spent appeasing nobility who hadn¡¯t fully pledged themselves to Mahsul, and making sure Hala was on the right path with her recovery. I had slept better than usual that day, when an envoy from Otlak came bursting through the King¡¯s throne room with a solemn expression. Br¨°n stood in a half-hidden spot by a column closest to Namir, while I had been facing him discussing a certain courtier¡¯s loyalty. Asad stood at Namir¡¯s side on the throne, as I whipped around to find who had come through the room¡¯s doors with such gaul.


    ¡°Your Highness.¡± The envoy began, his eyes wide and begging for pity. He approached the dais with such caution, you¡¯d think he was prey encroaching upon an apex predator. Each step up to the King was prolonged. The man was mortified to be the bearer of bad news. He swallowed heavily, Adam¡¯s apple bobbing. I made room for him to kneel, and the soldier looked to me as if I had just finished preparing his guillotine.


    The envoy knelt slowly, offering a scroll to Namir. He kept his eyes on the floor, mortified of what may happen to him. There was dead silence as the King took the scroll, unfurling it slowly and deliberately, and began reading it. His face twitched slightly as he read, eyebrows raising higher and higher with each line his mind processed. He digested the words harshly, as his right hand fell limp, still clutching the papyrus. He withdrew his left from the letter to meet his eyes.


    ¡°Asad¡­¡± He muttered, voice weak and quiet. Asad took the letter with haste, reading it himself. The monster of a man nearly crumpled to the floor, clutching the side of the throne to keep his knees from giving out beneath him. Br¨°n watched the men with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, as I reached for the letter. My eyes scanned the document, and I had to force myself to accept the letter¡¯s contents as truth. With a heavy chest, I loosed a breath.


    ¡°Do you realize what this means?¡± I asked the envoy as Asad placed a hand on Namir¡¯s back. The King¡¯s face was fully covered by his hands, his shoulders trembling.


    ¡°Al¡¯Namir Abyad, I assure you¡­had Lord Shahin known it would have turned out like this¡­¡± He stammered.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you understand?!¡± My voice boomed through the room. ¡°Shahin is responsible for the death of the heir!¡±Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    The envoy shrank back, a scrawny man whose thin lips hardly covered his large teeth even when closed. I felt nothing but pure adrenaline.


    ¡°He will pay for this!¡± I commanded. ¡°Look at our King!¡± My hand flung towards Namir, still hunched in his throne as he shook.


    ¡°Did your ruler not think to inform us, as her family and loyal subjects, of her decline in health?! Had he no mercy¡ªno reverence for his ally?!¡± I asked.


    ¡°Al¡¯Namir Abyad¡­had Ja¡¯Tavuk known¡­¡±


    The man could hardly find the words to cover his Lord¡¯s hide. I both relished the moment and hated to betray him to believe such falsities. Al¡¯Hala sat safely in her room; she was not dead, befallen by an unknown illness as the letter the envoy carried had read.


    ¡°Ja¡¯Tavuk will be held responsible for this!¡± I shouted, interrupting him. ¡°All of Otlak will be paying dues for generations to come! Was Duke Shahin too much of a coward to deliver such news himself?!¡±


    He balked at my words, caught between the truth and the manipulation that Shahin had beguiled him to believe.


    ¡°No, Al¡¯Namir Abyad¡­he had matters to tend to¡­¡±


    Liar.


    ¡°And how does he expect to aid Mahsul during this time?¡± I growled.


    ¡°He¡­didn¡¯t mention that¡­¡±


    Namir finally interjected, his voice raw with emotion¡ªbut dangerous as ever.


    ¡°This man allows my daughter to die, and expects us to have no reparation?!¡± He exclaimed. The chandelier shook with his voice, the sheer bass being enough to rattle my bones. A shudder skittered down my spine at the tone he carried.


    ¡°I gave him my daughter with great confidence that she¡¯d be well fed, well taken care of, and offered a lap of luxury in an attempt to quell his upset over an assassination attempt¡ªand this is how he returns my kindness?!¡± He shouted. The anger he¡¯d been holding in since Hala¡¯s return home had surfaced¡ªthe anger that could shatter a nation.


    ¡°Your Highness, I promise you, Otlak will keep in contact¡­! We¡¯ll mend this somehow¡­¡± The envoy replied, all but shaking in his boots.


    ¡°I swear upon my grave, should this not be resolved in a timely manner¡ªthe kingdom of Otlak will cease to exist!¡± Namir snapped.


    The soldier looked like he was using every ounce of strength within him to nod his head, willing himself to stumble towards the door. He was too scared to speak by now, fearing for both his life and longevity of his nation. Otlak had become weak militarily over the last decade, not bothering to properly train their soldiers as they hadn¡¯t had to step foot on a battlefield in over a decade. Other kingdoms did their work for them¡ªShahin¡¯s forefathers had ensured that.


    Once the large doors to the throne room shut behind the man, the three of us met eyes again. We waited with baited breath until a guard of our own military, a beast of a man in comparison to Otlak¡¯s envoy, came in and confirmed the envoy¡¯s disembark. Br¨°n finally let out a dark, low laugh as smiles crept upon our faces.

 Chapter 23: Abyad

    I walked up the greenery-filled pathway to the Kaval¡¯s villa, different tropical plants and flora lining its edges as winged insects buzzed and fluttered from plant to plant. Early spring was wrought with life, as flowers began to open their buds and bugs arose from their eggs. Strong, earthy scents filled my lungs along with the feeling of anxiety that bubbled within them at each breath. I had to see Jamila today, or else my plans may fall through. Tomorrow, the Kingdom would open for trade. Much of the citizens listened to the letters I¡¯d sent out, stowing precious valuables away and out of sight, wearing their least fanciful clothing. Farmers agreed to sell their smaller produce, keeping large and valuable harvests hidden for themselves. Fatiha¡¯s father was apprehensive, but eventually went along with trading his lesser-valued items instead of lucrative goods. He was the key to getting other merchants to follow suit. Jamila and her brothers, though, seemed to protest the requests after the noblewoman saw me carry Hala through the palace courtyard. I was a fool to have made a display of it. I dreaded today¡¯s encounter, but I knew it was necessary for us to succeed. The guards met me with their usual respectful nod as I strode towards the gates.


    ¡°Freznah krodhat.¡± I greeted them.


    ¡°Kazah Freznah.¡± They replied in unison.


    The gates drew open, and I stepped foot into the wide, luscious garden. Daisies, Hyacinth, and bushes of Camellias¡ªan ode to Al¡¯Haya¡ªwere in full bloom, greeting me with their vibrant colors and strong scents. The skies were clear as high noon encroached. Though the air still had a slight chill when the breeze blew, my body was on fire. Hot flashes from the anticipation of confrontation breached my body like waves, rising and receding. Up, and down. I loosed a breath as I prepared to meet Jamila¡¯s deep brown eyes, how they would fill with bitter resentment the moment they met mine.


    You are Al¡¯Namir Abyad ne Mahsul. You are a warrior. A woman is your least concern. I told myself as I walked up the steps.


    Now my feet were cold, almost tingling as I raised my fist to knock on the door. Before my knuckles even grazed the cedar wood, the knob turned and the door flung open. There she was, looking straight at me, eyes lined with betrayal. My heart wrenched at the sight, even if I hated her.


    ¡°Abyad.¡± He voice cracked with disbelief as she uttered my name.


    ¡°Jamila, I¡ª¡± My voice wouldn¡¯t work as I willed it. I cleared my throat. ¡°Can we talk?¡±


    She hadn¡¯t greeted me with her usual fervor, clinging around my neck and hanging onto me. She hadn¡¯t offered a formal welcome, nor did she eye me with her usual desire. She was withdrawn, demure, almost painfully silent as she walked me through to the foyer in her new white dress; short, provocative, revealing. The opposite of her demeanor in that moment. Her curls bounced as she walked, turning on her heels as she fell to the lush couch in the center of the living area. I sat on the couch across from her, meeting her eyes again.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about you, Themaz.¡± I quietly began slipping into my hedonist charade. God, how I felt slimy as I spoke. ¡°You look stunning in that dress.¡±


    Jamila¡¯s expression softened, her harsh exterior breaking away in chips. ¡°You¡¯re such a liar.¡± She jabbed, pouting her lips.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be like that.¡± I smiled. ¡°You know how I fancy you.¡±


    My words were so effective; this was too easy. I almost cringed at myself, at how good I was at playing this game. It was a dance I¡¯d all but mastered by now, a woman conversing with me was choosing to converse with Fiid. My eyes narrowed on her as I brought an ankle to my knee and leaned into the back of the couch.


    ¡°How are your brothers? Kharif has been begging me to let Uthmon into the Fourth Battalion.¡± I drawled.


    ¡°They¡¯re okay¡­Uthmon doesn¡¯t deserve such a position. Kharif is just trying to use his own name to further brother¡¯s name.¡± She said, scratching her nose with the heel of her hand.


    ¡°I¡¯ll remember that, then.¡± I smirked. My hands met the back of the couch, I sat there, perched like a King as she soaked in my body. I had purposefully unbuttoned my tunic to expose my chest, and been particular about how my hair dried that morning. For someone who didn¡¯t care about this woman, I had put far too much effort into my appearance.


    ¡°I know you didn¡¯t come all the way here just to ask about my brothers.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯d be right, I came to lay my eyes on your figure in that dress.¡± I replied coolly. I could see her squirm on the cushion adjacent to me as she tugged at the hem of her dress. Smoothing each crease that she saw.


    ¡°I can¡¯t get that image out of my mind, Jamila. How you looked at me as I carried Al¡¯Hala. It¡¯s flattering, how visible your upset was.¡± I had to really play up the persona in that moment, my words a forced melody as my hands waved; my arms still sprawled across the back of the couch.


    ¡°You say it as if you¡¯ll ever return the sentiment.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like I never tried.¡± My words lingered in her mind, bringing back memories of our early adult years¡ªnot that she was much younger than I was.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    We crossed paths beneath a willow on a cool summer morning, as I¡¯d sat grieving Hala¡¯s betrothal. I was freshly 18, and sore from training. The first year Hala missed my birthday. She¡¯d found me wheezing and sputtering an hour after the fact, still a somewhat gangly young boy who hid from confrontation.


    ¡°You look horrible.¡± She snarked as she sat beside me.


    ¡°Shove it, Jamila.¡± I barked back in anger, my abdomen cramping with the words. She helped me sit up as I shot daggers at her.


    ¡°I¡¯m surprised they managed to get you out of that room. You smell horrible.¡±


    ¡°I said shove it.¡±


    She looked at me with the same feline amusement I now wore. Her teasing expression nearly sent me into a frenzy, and had I been unable to move more than a few inches at a time I might have gone for her throat.


    ¡°At least you look better.¡± She finally said after a long silence. It had been a few weeks since I¡¯d begun training, my body following a stricter sleep schedule upon no accord of my own. The circles around my eyes were less severe, though still present. It killed me, how she¡¯d insult me and then issue me compliments when no one was around.


    ¡°I feel like shit.¡± I spat.


    ¡°Do you ever smile anymore?¡± She asked.


    I kept my mouth shut.


    ¡°You look even more like a stray dog now, Idris, than you did when Hala was around.¡±


    This was her way of being nice, but I didn¡¯t take kindly to it.


    ¡°You should learn to keep her name out of your mouth.¡± I replied, my voice low and threatening.


    ¡°Or what?¡± She asked, peering over at me.


    I¡¯d had it. She was too pretty to be such a brat. If she could learn how to keep her mouth shut, maybe she¡¯d find the attention she so desperately craved. I compelled my body to do as I demanded when I pinned her against the willow, looking into her eyes with nothing but pure malice. Her eyes grew wide as she shrank back, balking at someone¡¯s actions for once. Even I hadn¡¯t realized that I dwarfed her.


    ¡°Or I¡¯ll give you something else to talk about.¡± I threatened.


    I let her go, and just like that: our game of cat and mouse began. As she watched me gain muscle, she grew more attached to me. Her eyes remained glued to me, on and off of the sparring grounds, now lingering by my side at social gatherings. No longer was she as sharp tongued¡ªno, she was more conniving. Her words were laced with an undertone of danger, daring whatever woman who interfered with her to start something. Jamila never stopped other women from trying to woo me, even when we disappeared to different wings of villas to experiment with each others¡¯ bodies. Each time we¡¯d return, she¡¯d watch me, waiting for me to do something else. As if she were waiting for me to decide to choose her. It wasn¡¯t like I¡¯d downright made a move on her that day under the willow¡ªit was actually an attempt to scare her off. But just like the way she navigated the social hierarchy: she enjoyed danger. She didn¡¯t actively seek it out, but she welcomed it should it ever find its way to her doorstep.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    I brought a hand to my chin, smiling at her as I remembered how she¡¯d watch me with unbridled arousal as I situated my clothing when returning with girls. She shifted again, on the cushion; I could tell she recalled that evening as clearly as I did. She¡¯d assumed I had pinned her to that willow tree out of desire, not revenge, and I used that to my advantage.


    ¡°Do you love her?¡± She finally asked me. My hand slowly fell back to the back of the couch.


    ¡°I appreciate beauty in any form, Themaz.¡± I replied, hiding my true feelings.


    It was an answer she could deal with, but one that clearly made her uncomfortable.


    No. I love you, Jamila.


    That was what she wanted me to say. But she¡¯d never receive such words from my lips. My heart had been kept under lock and key, never sworn to any woman other than the next in line for the throne. The woman I¡¯d comfort from her nightmares. I never uttered the word ¡®love¡¯ to any woman I¡¯d slept with, even when they were the first to say them after I¡¯d brought them to climax.


    ¡°And while I appreciate your beauty in that dress¡­¡± I started. ¡°I must request that you follow the orders sent to you in the letter I had sent out en mass last week.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a woman of high-status, Abyad. I should be allowed to display that.¡± She retorted.


    ¡°And once this season passes, you will.¡± I expressed. ¡°I don¡¯t enjoy seeing you don common wear from this Kingdom, not when I could be looking at¡­¡± I trailed off as I raked her silhouette. A buxom figure, with little to hide it in the dress from Jagan. A dress I knew Hala would kick and scream at the idea of wearing, even in her younger years.


    Jamila blushed as our eyes locked. The sunlight fell on her soft cheekbones and jawline¡ªthe only things soft about her when she wasn¡¯t under my glamour.


    ¡°The Kingdom opens for trade tomorrow, Jamila. We need everyone to play their part. We are a grief-stricken nation, falling into a depression after the loss of Al¡¯Hala.¡± I explained.


    ¡°Al¡¯Hala lives, and this plan is something I¡¯m strongly against. Under what circumstances was she returned to Mahsul?¡± She was asking questions she didn¡¯t deserve answers to.


    ¡°Al¡¯Hala¡¯s presence is not to be uttered to anyone. Her sighting in the palace is to be kept between those who saw her, and no one else.¡± I threatened as I straightened myself from the couch. I leaned in on the ankle I¡¯d drawn to my knee, watching her with unwavering attention as she grew smaller under my watch. ¡°You saw her. She was in no condition fit for Royalty. She was brought home for that reason.¡±


    ¡°Even so¡­¡± she argued. ¡°Lying to Otlak and claiming that she¡¯s dead is wrong.¡±


    ¡°Was it not also wrong when Shahin lied; leading us to believe that Zarvan would cut its trade with us if he was not offered Al¡¯Hala¡¯s hand in marriage?¡± I questioned.


    I was right, and she knew it. Her eyes widened as she brought her hands to her abdomen, wringing them.


    ¡°Lord Shahin is a man of virtue¡ªmaybe he was right.¡± She tried to excuse him just as everyone who was unaware of his true nature did.


    ¡°Duke Markovni is a liar.¡± I growled. It was a brazen display of my vexation that allured her. She enjoyed being on the receiving end of my misguided anger.


    ¡°Abyad¡­¡± She said, taking in a breath. She contemplated for a moment, wary of which route she wanted to go down. Whether she wanted to to risk burning the pathetic bridge she¡¯d made between us, or keep it in tact and try to hammer a board onto it to try to improve it. The silence that filled the air was deafening, I could faintly hear my heartbeat in my eardrums as I waited for her answer.


    ¡°I¡¯ll talk to Kharif and Uthmon. To tell them to stop wearing the armor they just got from Strolgia.¡±


    Those words were music to my ears. The anger that had begun to well in me, ruminating on that bastard of a Duke, was smothered like a campfire in that moment. I composed myself, drawing in a breath and plastering on a faint smile.


    ¡°You will?¡± I asked quietly. Jamila nodded her head, watching me with anticipation. Her eyes were begging to please me, hoping to quell the upset that had rooted itself in me.


    ¡°Thank you, Jamila.¡± I said in a grateful tone, laced with a twinge of somber. Her eyes narrowed on me in appeasement as she forced a smile to her own face.


    ¡°Of course.¡± She replied


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Jamila and I almost always ended our interactions with diplomatic kindness, but I was feeling especially generous that day. She asked me to walk in the garden with her as always, and I joined her¡ªas always. We made our way to the far end of the property, under a gazebo. She watched the Monarch caterpillars as they munched on leaves hanging over the railing, their dotted bodies almost blending in with the shadows. If I looked hard enough into those shadows, they could have had eyes. I was unsure of if Br¨°n was still onto his usual antics, following me and listening in on even my most intimate moments. I stifled the shudder that wanted to ripple down my spine, refocusing my gaze on Jamila. That dress really was something unholy.


    Jamila truly was a beautiful woman. She had been blessed with her mother¡¯s genetics, much to her credit. She stood atop long legs, with a hips and bust that offered a perfect hourglass silhouette. If I didn¡¯t know the kind of woman she was, I probably would have sought her out in our younger years to see what lay beneath the robes Mahsulian women traditionally wore. But I knew of her back-biting, and underhanded comments. I knew of how she¡¯d sabotage any woman she perceived as a threat.


    It¡¯s always the most beautiful women who have something unhinged within them.


    As displayed by Jamila¡¯s fashion choices, which only grew more daring as the years passed. At first, it was alterations made to her traditional noble gowns¡ªhigh slits from the hip down; low necklines; taking the hem up, up, up, until boys whistled as she walked by. In Mahsul, we¡¯re taught to respect each woman as if they were our mother¡ªnot to sexualize them in the open, or behind closed doors. She was almost hellbent on making sure men objectified her, taking pride in the lingering eyes and whispered comments. Even when noblewomen began rumors of her being a floozy: she didn¡¯t balk at them. She welcomed the attention, sometimes trying to raise jealousy within me by hanging off of other men¡ªher eyes fixed on me during the process. It never worked. I¡¯d get her back by finding the prettiest girl in the room and casting her under my spell, dancing with her until she guided me to a more secluded area.


    Jagan was an interesting land, one that I¡¯d only seen a glimpse of when on a trip with Saerie to acquire dyes for Fatiha¡¯s father. It was hotter there than it could get here in Mahsul, leading the women to don less modest attire. There, such clothing made sense; but Jamila wasn¡¯t a woman whose taste in clothing relied upon the weather. The dress she wore was one I¡¯d seen on the women of that eastern land, but their figures trended lithe and flat. The woman before me under that gazebo was anything but.


    ¡°I still don¡¯t like her.¡± Jamila admitted. I cocked my head to the right.


    ¡°Al¡¯Hala. I don¡¯t think she¡¯s as beautiful as nobility makes her out to be. When I saw her in the courtyard, it reaffirmed my beliefs.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s ill, Jamila. Of course she won¡¯t be the pinnacle of beauty.¡± I replied, trying to keep a casual demeanor. It took everything within me not to grit my jaw in insult.


    ¡°What is she ill with?¡± Jamila asked. I might have seen a hint of concern in her eyes, but I didn¡¯t want to give her that grace.


    ¡°Her time in Otlak proved to be rather difficult, we¡¯re still trying to get the the bottom of it all.¡±


    ¡°Well, she looks horrible.¡±


    I bristled at her words, bringing a hand to the back of my neck. ¡°She¡¯s on the road to recovery, Jun Inaa.¡±


    God-willing.


    Jamila brought her arms to her chest, crossing them. I don¡¯t think she realized how close she was to spilling from the cloth that hardly covered her chest. My eyes remained on hers as she studied me, trying to uncover my true emotions towards her, and the Princess.


    ¡°Abyad, I need to address something.¡± She said, squaring her shoulders. I nodded softly, encouraging her to speak. My face didn¡¯t show it, but that statement alone sent anxiety through my entire body.


    ¡°You¡¯ve slept with countless women, without getting to know them¡­without speaking to them ever again¡­¡± I knew where this was going, and I¡¯d prepared myself for such a conversation for years. ¡°Yet you never slept with me. And you know how I¡¯ve made subtle gestures, all but begging you to bring me somewhere.¡±


    I kept quiet, knowing there was more to this conversation than a request to be bedded. I could see in her eyes that she had much to say.


    ¡°I know how we met as children wasn¡¯t¡­the best¡­¡± She brought a hand to her clavicle. ¡°But we were kids, Abyad. The way I talked to you then, I¡¯ve tried to correct it. So why? Why do you continue to flatter me without ever doing more than that?¡±


    Desperation lined her voice, pure devastation in her eyes. This conversation was long overdue; our game of cat and mouse had been ongoing for more than six years, now. I smirked at her, mirroring her stance as I crossed my own arms.


    ¡°I¡¯d never want a woman of such high-status to endure being bedded by a lowly-born lapdog, Jamila.¡± I replied, my tone even and casual. It came out as I¡¯d always dreamed.


    Her face fell, emotional turmoil lining her eyes as she recalled similar words coming from her lips all those years ago.


    ¡°Abyad, I didn¡¯t mean those things.¡± She pleaded. ¡°I was a teenager¡ªa stupid, jealous teenager.¡±


    ¡°Jealous?¡± I drawled.


    ¡°Yes, Abyad, Jealous! I was jealous of how you always stayed beside Al¡¯Hala. How you looked at her with such fondness. I¡­wanted you to look at me like that.¡±


    The admission was one I relished in, her unspoken feelings had finally left her lips. I moved a step in towards her, hands falling to my sides.


    ¡°You should be more careful of how you treat people.¡± I said, closing in on her. ¡°If you want something, you should be more outspoken. Take a lesson from Al¡¯Hala¡¯s books. You act as though I never thought about how you¡¯d feel, wrapped around me. The way your lips taste.¡±


    A hand to her cheek was all it took to make her tremble. ¡°I never bedded you, because you never asked.¡± I lied. This could play one of two ways¡ªand I had to prepare myself for both.


    ¡°Would you truly let your body be claimed by Al¡¯Hala¡¯s lapdog?¡± I asked.


    She nodded, swallowing harshly. Her next words were thick with desire. ¡°I would, and this is me asking.¡±


    Shit. Good job, Idris.

 Chapter 24: Hala

    Abyad hadn¡¯t visited me in over three weeks, and I was growing tired of Br¨°n¡¯s company. Any time I asked him about my friend, a glimmer of amusement filled his eyes and he refused to answer my questions. I was agonizingly tired of the immortal teaching me Mahsulah, as kind a gesture as it was. My tongue naturally fell back into the rhythm quicker than I was expecting, and whenever my mother visited she was surprised to carry conversations with me again. Mother always looked so disheartened, when she laid eyes upon me. I¡¯d tried to eat as much as I could; tried to get back to walking, and moving in natural ways, but my body was petulant¡ªarguing my every command. At the very least, I¡¯d been able to sit at my vanity again. I was able to control my appearance, to preen my features and keep myself from looking so damn sickly. Mahsul seemed to be home to different herbs and flora capable of cosmetic miracles, and my mother was more than happy to bring different things for me to try when she stopped by. Facial salves for plumping, priming, tightening; she brought them all.


    ¡°I¡¯ve just been gifted this face cream, I think you¡¯d like it. It came from the far end of Mahsul. I asked Fatiha¡¯s father to import more for the other noble women to try.¡± Mother smiled as she offered me a small jar of apricot-colored cream. I took the jar from her hands gently, offering a smile in return. Her new way of bonding¡ªskin care.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± I replied.


    ¡°Darling, please try to eat¡­¡± she said, her eyes lingering on my face. ¡°You¡¯ve always been on the smaller side, but you still look¡­¡±


    ¡°I know, Mother. I¡¯m trying.¡± I interjected, my voice soft and cautious.


    She wrung her hands together, before bringing me in for a hug. She always smelled of strong floral perfume, when the smell of frankincense didn¡¯t drown out the notes of vanilla and lavender. Her hugs were so gentle, maybe because she was scared she¡¯d break me if she hugged too tightly.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have Zaima bring bone broth for you soon.¡± She murmured before pulling away. She was so elegant; almost floating to the exit. How I wished I looked like that when I moved.


    Just as she turned the lever to my door, I spoke up again. ¡°Mother,¡±


    She turned around.


    ¡°Have you seen Abyad?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s been in the palace, Dear.¡± She reassured me. ¡°He¡¯s a busy man, but I¡¯ll see to it that he can come see you soon.¡±


    My smile grew wider as I nodded, and she replied with a smile of her own before vanishing behind the door. I turned to look back at myself in the vanity mirror, assessing my features. My cheeks were nowhere close to as sunken as when I¡¯d first returned home, but I was still quite gaunt. Having naturally high cheekbones was helpful when I carried more weight in the winter months, during my younger years; but going even a pound below a healthy weight could make me look skeletal in the face. I wished I could have my figure back, the one I had before those six years. I was so proud, so excited, to have gotten such a bodice. But each time food travelled down my esophagus, it wanted to come back up. I had to eat at such a painfully slow pace that by the time I was halfway done with any dish, it had already gone cold. My stomach would cramp so badly, I thought I¡¯d swallowed acid sometimes. Food felt more like poison, than sustenance. There were days I wished there were a pill that could do all the things food did; supply me with energy, and clear my mind of the fog that hunger induced. Offer me the strength to move and speak clearly, with purpose. Quell my temper.


    I hated food, to put it lightly. Just as my stomach gurgled in agreement, that familiar dialect of broken Mahsulah spoke from behind me.


    ¡°It ain¡¯t like she¡¯s askin¡¯ ya to eat a five-course meal, Lass.¡±


    My head whipped around to find Br¨°n in Abyad¡¯s armchair, looking at me with a neutral expression. ¡°It¡¯d serve ya well to keep tryin¡¯ to eat.¡±


    ¡°I am trying.¡± I replied, using the common dialect. ¡°Will you ever speak proper Mahsulah?¡±


    ¡°I do speak proper Mahsulah.¡± He grinned, crossing his arms. ¡°Yer language is just a culmination ¡®o Strolgian and Broldish.¡±


    ¡°Broldish?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Dead language. Dead people.¡± He replied, his smile growing wider.


    He would be considered an off-putting man, if he weren¡¯t attractive. The immortal was older than any Kingdom of the modern time, save for Zarvan, but didn¡¯t look a day over thirty. Attire aside, the only tells of his age were a pair of fine lines that sat like parenthesis around his mouth; and a single, short wrinkle that sat dead center in the upper-quarter of his forehead. I was astounded by how he always looked fit for a Social, clean-shaven with his shoulder blade-length hair flowing in freed russet waves.


    ¡°You¡¯re an odd man, Br¨°n.¡± I said as I turned my focus back on my reflection.


    ¡°And yer rather vain.¡± He japed.


    A scowl painted my face as I looked at him in the reflection, his straight teeth flashing as he smiled. He truly was a King without a crown, his shoulders never leaving their squared position.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know why you bother spending so much time here. Don¡¯t you have land to haunt?¡±The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°I do as I please, Lass. I ain¡¯t about to be bossed around by a wee Princess.¡± He retorted.


    ¡°What you please? It seems that doing what you please is rather irksome.¡±


    ¡°Aye. And I¡¯d have it no other way.¡±


    ¡°Why do you choose to spend time here?¡± I asked. ¡°In my room?¡±


    ¡°Yer a beacon.¡± He replied simply. ¡°A restin¡¯ spot where I ain¡¯t gotta use me powers.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±


    ¡°It means yer a sorry little shite who¡¯s full of sorrow. And you ain¡¯t even bothered to address the loathing in you.¡±


    His words stung, like the wounds in my back. As harsh as they were, he was right. I grimaced as I looked myself in the eyes; they were still hollow, nearly devoid of all life.


    ¡°And?¡± I asked, waiting for his full explanation. ¡°Why does that make me worth staying around?¡±


    ¡°Because so much sorrow in a person is nigh impossible. I wanna see how all¡¯o this plays out, is all. Powers That Be have shown a few different paths.¡±


    He was speaking in riddles, and I hated it. He would mention ¡®Powers That Be¡¯ whenever I asked certain questions¡ªlike his origins, and why he was able to utilize shadows as a means of transportation. He¡¯d never tell me what the Powers That Be looked like; or if there was a singular person in charge of it all. The most I understood was that these Powers were the ones who strung fate together, like the blankets made in our textile district. Br¨°n said that they wove fate together in a breath¡¯s time, immediately after a person made a major decision¡ªand ¡®major decisions¡¯ to the Powers That Be weren¡¯t always major decisions to the person who¡¯d made them. Br¨°n let out a gravely chuckle, as if reading my mind.


    ¡°Yer friend¡¯s made a decision that The Powers are rather intrigued by, it seems.¡± He said.


    I raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°It¡¯s the reason he hasn¡¯t visited.¡±


    I was perplexed by his cryptic statements, but had to shrug them off. He was something my mind couldn¡¯t comprehend, and I was trying my hardest to be okay with that. Listening to him was sometimes like listening to the ramblings of a senile old man, speaking gibberish with little preface or context. I sighed internally, and stood from the vanity. My back had grown stiff, begging me to do something more than sit and eye my features. I crept towards the balcony doors, my right foot never going as high as I¡¯d willed it.


    ¡°I wonder¡­¡± Br¨°n murmured to himself, his words lingering in the air. I didn¡¯t want to hear his philosophizing. My hand met the door¡¯s lever, and I felt the warmth from the daylight as it spilled onto my hand. Inching out, I closed the door behind me and hobbled to the railing, leaning into it as the smell of Mahsul¡¯s air filled my lungs.


    Floral notes, and fish brine. That was the smell of home. I pulled at the sleeves of my robe, allowing the sun to hit my forearms. The fine hair that sat on them weeks ago was growing in thicker, a good sign. I was no longer fuzzy as a newly hatched chick, I was becoming more than the hollowed husk of myself I once was. Even the emotions I felt, as chilling as they could be, were clearer¡ªmy mind less of a garbled mess. Br¨°n had a point, it was time to address the deep-seeded loathing and sadness that lay beneath me.


    But how? A small voice in the back of my mind asked.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    I was happy to see Br¨°n had left once I returned to my room. The sunlight had done me justice, scaring the shadow creature away. I limped to my bed, my bum flopping to it once I¡¯d reached its edge, and forced myself to slide up to the window. I was pleasantly surprised to see a hare, sniffing the leaf of a budding herb. I watched the rabbit with keen interest, as its whiskers twitched and its ears fell flat to its head. I studied it for so long that I hadn¡¯t even noticed that someone else now claimed a presence in my room, peering over my shoulder as they knelt into the bed with heightened amusement.


    ¡°What has you so excited?¡± Asked a silky, caramel-like voice in Otlank.


    I didn¡¯t move my eyes from the hare, now sitting in place like a statue, but the way my entire body flooded with relief and affection as Abyad spoke to me almost made me shiver.


    ¡°That hare¡­¡± I said, a small smile pulling at my lips, replying in the same language. ¡°Isn¡¯t it cute?¡±


    ¡°It is.¡± He confirmed. ¡°Your mother told me you¡¯d asked about me. Are you that lonely in here, Themaz?¡± He asked.


    My eyes flickered to his, a small flash of heat simmering beneath the skin of my cheeks.


    ¡°You haven¡¯t seen me in a long time.¡± I said, my voice quieter than I¡¯d wanted. I kept my eyes on the hare, as if not looking at him would help me find my courage. ¡°Br¨°n isn¡¯t what I¡¯d consider to be favorable company.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a busy man.¡± He said. I could hear him smiling. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    My shoulder grew heavier, warmer, as he pulled me in for a side hug. How he was capable of sending my mind humming was beyond me. Br¨°n¡¯s words echoed in my mind, making me wonder what decision Abyad made to intrigue the omnipotent.


    ¡°Abyad¡­¡± I murmured. ¡°Where were you?¡±


    His arm tightened around my shoulder. ¡°Making sure things go according to plan.¡± He replied, his volume matching mine.


    I wished he¡¯d tell me about these plans he¡¯d mentioned in passing over the last month. It seemed like something bothered him, with how he was gripping me


    ¡°You can talk to me about it, you know.¡± I said, my words filling with conviction. ¡°Whatever it is that¡¯s bothering you.¡±


    ¡°And risk you seeing me as a hound dog?¡± He chuckled. ¡°I¡¯d rather not.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow, forcing myself to look at him. The hare was long gone by now, scared off by the sound of our voices. ¡°Abyad,¡± I chided softly. ¡°What have you been doing?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t kiss and tell.¡± He winked.


    My eyes widened. Had he been¡­?


    ¡°Idris.¡± I said, my voice low and full of scorn. He bristled at the name, but his smile still remained.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± He said casually, a breath of laughter escaping his lips.


    Don¡¯t worry about it? I thought. I wanted to use every string of curse words I knew, insult him with every vocabulary word I¡¯d been learning with Br¨°n, but I kept my newfound learnings secret. As odd as it was, I didn¡¯t want Abyad knowing I was back to being proficient in Mahsulah. Br¨°n swore he¡¯d keep our lessons a secret, and Mother was rather quiet as it was. When I told her not to tell Abyad I could speak the language, she merely smiled and nodded. I wanted to surprise him, to show him I wasn¡¯t as hopeless as I seemed.


    ¡°You¡¯ve become a sleaze.¡± I insulted in Otlank. My voice was cold and bitter, biting at him with vexation.


    ¡°Me? Never.¡± He rebutted.


    I turned my attention back to the window, watching the fluffy white clouds as they glided by. There was something pulling at my chest as I eyed a particular cloud: jealousy.

 Chapter 25: Abyad

    ¡°So¡­¡± Br¨°n began as he materialized from beneath the shadow of an end table in my office. ¡°Who was she?¡±


    ¡°Who was who?¡± I asked, raising my head from the book I¡¯d been reading. A long and mind-numbing biography on Shahin¡¯s father. I was trying to find even the smallest piece of information that could give me leeway in the upcoming meeting I was anticipating.


    ¡°The Lass ya saw at that villa. A real looker.¡± He replied, sauntering to a seat beside me.


    I put the book down, adjusting myself in the armchair I sat in. Br¨°n always seemed to watch me with the same fascination one would have when observing a wild animal on display. Pure entertainment lined his expression as he sat in the chair beside mine, the afternoon¡¯s light illuminating his red eyes. Carnelian and true Scarlet. In truth, the memory of the night I¡¯d spent with Jamila made me want to throw up my lunch.


    ¡°A pain in my ass.¡± I answered, eliciting a laugh from Br¨°n.


    ¡°How was she?¡± He asked. ¡°In bed.¡±


    I almost choked, the immortal was so brazen. The question was like a jab in the gut¡ªtotally unnecessary, but his eyes told me he wasn¡¯t requesting an answer. He was demanding one.


    ¡°She¡­knew what she was doing.¡± I said hesitantly, loosing a breath after the words left my mouth. Jamila was rabid when she brought me to her room that day. Like I¡¯d released a wild beast that sat within her, frothing at the maw.


    ¡°¡®Er body was probably a sight for sore eyes. Not that there was much left to see in ¡®at dress.¡± He jested. I recoiled at the statement.


    ¡°God, Br¨°n¡­¡± I muttered. ¡°You¡¯re disgusting.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the one who snogged ¡®er!¡± He argued, eyebrows raising as his teeth flashed a smile.


    ¡°I did it because I had to.¡± I explained, leaning into the back of the chair.


    There was no way out of it. If I wanted to ensure all my loose ends were tied, I had to appease Jamila for her to appease me. It was the first time I¡¯d ever slept with a woman for a reason outside of my own desire, and I felt disgusting for it. On a positive note, my body wasn¡¯t in agreement with my mind during the act¡ªwhich played to my favor. I suppose her physical allure outshone the pure hatred I had for the woman I intwined with.


    ¡°Ya did something that ya can¡¯t undo now, Lad. But I got another question for ya.¡± He broke me from my train of thought.


    I hummed in response before he spoke again, my knee falling into a rhythmic bounce.


    ¡°Who¡¯s it gonna be?¡± He smiled.


    I didn¡¯t have to think twice about the answer: it was Hala, hands down, if she even accepted me after sleeping with the one woman responsible for tarnishing her reputation so early on. I looked at him, and he nodded in understanding.


    ¡°I spent me fair share of time amongst you lot. Fickle, yer emotions are.¡± He stated. ¡°Spent thirty years roamin¡¯ the brothels, sleeping with all kinds¡¯a women until I met my Bonnie.¡±


    I tweaked an eyebrow.


    ¡°¡®Er name was Kili. A woman from Zarvan¡ªa seamstress.¡± He began. ¡°She¡¯s the one who made me the robe I got on, now.¡±


    I eyed the robe, dark as night with silver embroidery along its panels. A piece of art from a different time period, meticulously tailored to fit each peak and valley of his body. It was clear that whoever made the garment was more skilled than even our own seamstresses, as I studied the lapel¡¯s accents from afar: red, the exact same shades as his eyes. Gold chains formed bullion knots at the cuffs, not a fray or imperfection on the garment as a whole. Skill wasn¡¯t at play with his robe¡¯s creation¡ªit was devotion. It had been crafted by someone entirely devoted to the immortal.


    ¡°By Gods was she beautiful¡­quiet, easy going, never one to argue. Very different from the woman yer heart¡¯s set on.¡± Br¨°n continued with a hint of whimsy. ¡°Always wore such fine robes¡ªones she made, herself.¡±


    I saw his eyes glimmer with sadness, recalling the last human to cherish him as a lover. My heart ached for the entity, incapable of imagining the pain that must come with immortality. The friends, lovers, and acquaintances lost; while still being forced to endure the sands of time.


    ¡°That was the last time me heart worked.¡± He said, his voice thick with emotion.


    ¡°What happened to her?¡± I dared ask.


    ¡°Old age, just like the rest of ¡®em.¡± He said shortly. ¡°I sat with ¡®er ¡®til the end. Watched her draw ¡¯er last breath. I stopped goin¡¯ for humans after that.¡±


    I scratched my nose as I broke eye contact with him. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    ¡°Do you think¡­¡± I managed to find the words buried deep within me. ¡°Do you think she¡¯ll ever return my feelings?¡±


    Br¨°n flashed a smile, his demeanor shifting back to one of deviance. The way his teeth glimmered in the light made him look all the more haunting¡ªall the more like a predator.


    ¡°She seemed pretty glamoured by ya up on ¡®at roof, Lad.¡±


    ¡°But am I worthy?¡± I asked as a follow-up. ¡°Am I truly worthy of her heart?¡±


    ¡°Some things, even The Powers That Be ain¡¯t entirely sure of yet.¡± Br¨°n answered. ¡°It¡¯s all in how ya make yer decisions.¡±


    I sighed, feeling my chest grow hollow. I¡¯d still struggled with coming to terms with the fact that I wasn¡¯t seen as a peasant anymore¡ªeven after Jamila retracted the things she¡¯d said during our teenage years; recalling how she begged for forgiveness with each thrust I pushed into her.


    ¡°I never meant those things, Abyad.¡± She said breathily, our bodies meshed against each other under her bedsheets. ¡°This. This is what I wanted.¡±


    I shook my head, clearing my mind of the memory¡ªthe pure lust and yearning in her voice; the way her sighs sounded like a melody that beguiled me. She was so lucky to have been so beautiful, else I never would have reached a climax.


    ¡°Ya know,¡± Br¨°n said, interrupting my thoughts once more. ¡°There¡¯s always the option of a harem.¡±


    My eyes snapped to his with a fury, and he let out a low chuckle.


    ¡°I know, I know; yer people don¡¯t take kindly to courtesans. Just a thought.¡± He winked.


    I picked up my book and began reading again, shooting him a vengeful glance every so often as he watched me with amusement. We had been talking for so long that I¡¯d almost forgotten the contents of the book I was forcing myself to sift through. Nothing but words of praise for the Markovni family filled the spine of that biography, wishing blessings upon them as if they were a family of Gods.


    ¡°Careful, Lad. Ya don¡¯t wanna go sparrin¡¯ with a Cursed One as a mortal.¡± He said after a particular glare.


    I grumbled, slamming the book shut and shucking it onto the table between the chairs. The pressure within me was immense, making me stand from my seat and pace like a caged animal. Br¨°n watched me with a glint in his eye, leaning into the chair¡¯s back as if I were some sort of act brought to him for his own enjoyment.


    ¡°Take ¡®er up on that roof again. I won¡¯t peek ¡®is time, I promise.¡± He winked.


    Everything in me wanted to lunge for that smug bastard. If he wasn¡¯t immortal, and capable of things left undocumented, I¡¯d have done it. I swallowed the violence that stirred within me, shaking my head as I walked towards the door. Namir was waiting for me by now, and I didn¡¯t plan on making him wait. He had been more on edge than usual, his temper on a hair¡¯s trigger. I understood, though, considering the vitriol Hala had spewed at him last month. The two were on horrible terms, and it was all one-sided hate. The King valued his daughter as much as he valued his own wife¡ªmore than he valued all else in the Kingdom. He hated the tension between them, often confiding in me that he hoped that one day Hala would find it in her heart to forgive him. I never doubted that she would.


    I made my way down the steps, towards the ground floor. It was a particularly warm day. My shoes clicked against the marble flooring, drawing the attention of different servants. I smiled at them, which they returned in kind. I had memorized these faces by now¡ªthe servants in the Grand Building were a lucrative crew. Trusted more than any others, these maidens and eunuchs were probably the longest standing servants in all of Mahsul. Many of them were women who¡¯d raised me, and men who watched as I walked through the halls rubbing sore spots after training. They knew who I was, just as I knew who they were. It wasn¡¯t often that a new face made it to this building.


    I cleared my throat as I stood before the Throne Room¡¯s door, its birch wood¡¯s patterns something I could paint with my eyes shut. With an internal sigh, I pushed the doors open. Namir sat atop the throne, looking far more amused than usual. In his hand, he held a single piece of paper. He and Asad would lock eyes occasionally, leading Namir to chuckle as he looked at his brother. Asad returned each glance with a half-hearted smile, and I wondered if Namir had fully lost his sanity as I approached the dais.


    ¡°Abyad!¡± He said jovially. ¡°He¡¯ll be here in six months.¡± The smile the King wore was alarming, his under eyes heavily shadowed from lack of sleep. I¡¯m sure mine had a similar appearance, but the way his near-black hair jutted out from his scalp made it all the more apparent that the man hadn¡¯t been faring well.


    ¡°He sent this letter and left not long after its disembark from Otlak. Get a look at it!¡± He gleamed as he offered the papyrus out to me.


    I squared my shoulders, ascending the dais for myself and taking the letter. I read it skeptically, my eyebrows furrowing the more I read it.


    Al¡¯Namir,


    It is with a heavy heart that I understand your woe. Al¡¯Hala was the love of my life, the reason behind my eyes opening each morning. Her presence livened up the palace in a way that could never be recreated, and when her health took a turn for the worse I prayed to the Gods every night for her recovery. She spent many days beside me as I played piano, or painted; discussing her love for her people and enjoyment in knowing that Mahsul was still safe. She was so happy by my side, in fact, that she never found herself asking to return¡ªbegging me to let her pass peacefully at our palace here in Otlak. Since the day we wedded, we never spent more than a night apart. I will be sure to aid your Kingdom to our greatest ability in order to rectify my wrongdoings, offering my best quality efforts to repair our relationship. Your daughter¡¯s life will not go without memory, for each day I tell our subjects how pained I am by her passing. Her love of life and passionate eyes will forever hold a place in my heart, lighting the way to peace for us all.


    I will be headed to Mahsul by late fall. Expect my presence by the time your squash plants begin bearing fruit. With me, I will have our best mediators in order to come to a just agreement in handling this matter. Please accept the last necklace she wore as a reminder of her elegance and beauty.


    Best Wishes, Deepest Condolences,


    Shahin Markovni


    What I read wasn¡¯t a comical message. It was a mockery of Hala¡¯s time in Otlak. The love of his life? Praying to the Gods for her recovery? I sneered at the words written so carefully on the paper, my eyes meeting Namir¡¯s once more. The fire inside of them was dim, but still ablaze¡ªerratic.


    ¡°What¡¯s so funny about this?¡± I asked.


    Namir held up a golden necklace with irises painted onto the gold, chuckling as the light reflected off of the intricate design of the piece. My hand reached out, and took the necklace. I studied its quality, noticing how its varnish was almost pristine. It seemed entirely unworn, like it had been freshly crafted. I looked at Namir, still confused by his entertainment in the necklace and letter.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you remember, Abyad? Hala threw a hissy fit over the maidens recommending irises to her when she walked down the aisle!¡± He exclaimed, smiling softly at the memory of his daughter¡¯s outburst.


    I nodded, offering a small smile in return to the King¡¯s question. I supposed Namir found the necklace entertaining because he wasn¡¯t able to connect with his daughter yet, considering their current relationship. He was still hung up on the version of his daughter that loved him fiercely, and acted as his mirror. Br¨°n crept out from a column¡¯s shadow, eyeing the King with both concern and fascination. I put the necklace in my pocket, and handed the letter back to Namir. He and his brother chatted about how ridiculous the letter was, as Br¨°n reached his hand out to read it for himself. As I turned on his heels to investigate the necklace¡¯s origins further, I could hear Namir recalling the story of the irises to Br¨°n through breathy laughter. Entrusting the immortal with the King¡¯s sanity, I turned the lever to the door and pushed it open. Back into the halls, I went.

 Chapter 26: Hala

    I sat in my room on a comfortable Spring evening, admiring the braid Zaima had fashioned my hair into that morning. It held nicely, and she¡¯d told me that it could make my waves re-crimp in a way I¡¯d find lovely. Of all the people in the palace, she was secretly my favorite. A young girl who had a calm demeanor, as eerily calm as Idris¡¯, but was more than happy to dish all of her personal opinions to me behind closed doors. She was someone who told me of the inner-workings of the palace; who was visiting, who was leaving, what was happening in the academic classrooms as noble children learned our history¡ªthe teachers who¡¯d snap at them, or chide them gently. Zaima was born and raised here in the palace; her mother a refugee from down south. Mother begged the Courts-Men to let her stay, taking she and her mother under her own wing. Mother¡¯s kindness never ceased to amaze me.


    A gentle rasp at my door sent me to my feet, as the sky donned a light pink hue. I was more on edge than usual, having forced myself to suffer two nights without sleep. If I didn¡¯t sleep, I couldn¡¯t dream. If I couldn¡¯t dream, I¡¯d be spared the recollection of Shahin¡¯s voice and the memories of his brutality. During those two days, I highly contemplated if it was worth it. A part of me missed that tiny palace, how the chilled air nipped at my skin. The way the snow fell perfectly along the window panes, stacking up inch by inch until we were all but snowed in. The only way for me to feel a semblance of that chill was to rest my eyes, but Shahin¡¯s voice was a horror too grizzly to bear.


    ¡°Abyad!¡± I exclaimed, thoroughly surprised to see him standing in the doorway once I opened the door. The smile that lined my lips was genuine as I studied his features. He had such long legs, and dense muscle. I still couldn¡¯t quite wrap my mind around tiny Idris turning into the hulking man in front of me. Turning into Abyad.


    He greeted me wordlessly, smiling gently at me as I let him in. The left side of his smile twitched faintly, and I had to purposefully mind my steps as I made my way back to the vanity. He looked tired, like he¡¯d been awake longer than I had. Sitting myself back down on the stool cautiously, Abyad sat down in his armchair. He watched as I picked up a pair of tweezers intently, as if I were showing him a sacred art.


    ¡°Hala,¡± he said, his voice softer; more supple than usual as it hit my ears. ¡°I have a question for you.¡±


    I paused my grooming, meeting his eyes in the reflection of the mirror. So calm. So still. His blue eyes watched me with a steadiness unrivaled.


    ¡°Yes?¡± I asked.


    From his pocket, he brought out something that shimmered in the glow of sunset. Gold. Out of pure interest, I turned around deliberately to eye the fine chain he held in his hands. When his eyes fell to the chain, they filled with a horrifying disdain.


    ¡°Do you recognize this necklace?¡± He asked, his voice still buttery.


    I offered my own hand out with a bemused expression, taking the delicate chain in it and studying the charm that hung at the bottom. An iris. I thumbed the pendant with my free hand, tracing its sad petals with my fingernail. It sent a bitter taste to my mouth¡ªafter all these years, I still detested the scrawny flowers.


    ¡°No.¡± I scoffed. ¡°You know I hate Irises. Why would I know of this necklace?¡±


    A scornful smile lined his lips, perplexing me even more as I offered the necklace back to him. I watched him closely, as he put it back in his pocket. Slowly, I faced the mirror once more and took the tweezers back into my left hand. As if I were an artist, I began preening my appearance once more.


    ¡°I found it and wanted to ask if you knew who it belonged to, that¡¯s all.¡± He muttered, covering his mouth with his hand. He looked down to his left, studying the carpet beneath the chair he sat on as he leaned back in the chair.


    ¡°Was there anything else you had to ask?¡± My tone was a bit jaded, maybe from the lack of sleep¡ªmaybe because I truly hated Irises that much.


    ¡°Nope. Just came to bother you.¡± He said, his eyes squinting a bit in the reflection. He was smiling beneath that hand.


    I shot him a look of feigned annoyance, pretending to be upset by his presence. His eyes squinted more in response, that smile widening even more. He let out a small breath, a laugh, as he watched me pluck a hair. His voice shifted to Mahsulah as he spoke next, his voice twinged with yearning.


    ¡°Is it so bad that I wanted to see you, beloved?¡±


    I nearly dropped the tweezers. He didn¡¯t know I could understand him¡ªand in the weeks since I¡¯d heard him slip back into that habit of his: I understood every single word. He was completely oblivious to it. I swallowed harshly, hoping I hadn¡¯t given away my understanding of the language.


    ¡°I hate when you do that.¡± I snarked.


    ¡°It¡¯s not my fault that you¡¯ve been paying more attention to your eyebrows than to relearning your mother tongue.¡± He chastised, switching tongues. The way he spoke both languages was beautiful, his voice a string of melodies as he spoke.


    ¡°Is it so bad that I have priorities?¡± I teased. My eyes lit with amusement, I missed bantering with him.


    He switched tongues again, sure to keep his hand lightly cupped to his mouth.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    ¡°Your beauty doesn¡¯t need such devotion.¡±


    I plucked another hair as he spoke, steeling my resolve with all the strength I had. It was like he was teasing me, and he didn¡¯t even know it. I eyed him in my reflection with simmering frustration, aimed at no one but myself for being so intent with keeping my proficiency a secret. He clicked his tongue, drawing the hand from his face as it fell to the arm of the chair.


    ¡°You should be more concerned with your mind, not your face.¡± He jabbed in Otlank.


    I shrugged my shoulders, still feigning ignorance to his prior statement.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, Abyad.¡± I said with more of an edge than I¡¯d hoped.


    He leaned on his knees, his eyes steadying on me with intense focus, studying my features with high scrutiny.


    ¡°You¡¯re not. You still have those dreams, Hala. Did you even sleep last night?¡± He asked, concern lining his tone.


    ¡°I slept¡­¡± I lied. ¡°My back was bothering me. It was a difficult night¡¯s rest.¡±


    He shot me a look that said ¡®Liar,¡¯ as he leaned back into the chair. ¡°I can tell when you¡¯re lying.¡± He replied.


    I didn¡¯t like how those words made me feel. ¡°I¡¯m no liar.¡± I grumbled.


    I¡¯m no liar.


    I heard Shahin echoing those words as he sliced into me, the memory jarring me enough to make me put the tweezers down entirely.


    ¡°You¡¯re doing a great job of bothering me.¡± I snapped at him. His eyebrows raised in whimsy, and he nodded his head upwards.


    ¡°Good, then I¡¯m doing my job right.¡± He said as something glinted in his eyes. The glimmer faded as he switched tongues once more.


    ¡°If I don¡¯t, then who will?¡± He sounded pained as those words left his lips, and I was wishing I could swallow my pride and admit I understood him, already. But I had certain words I couldn¡¯t force myself to utter, or comprehend. The emotions grew to a fever pitch within me as I stood from the stool, walking to my closet and eyeing the different fabrics.


    I wasn¡¯t entirely sure why I¡¯d walked in there. Perhaps it was a desire to flee the overwhelming emotions gurgling within me, or maybe it was in an attempt to find a disguise to sneak away from Abyad in. I snatched a shawl, totally useless in the middle of spring, and wrapped it around my shoulders as I walked out of the closet. I marched up to the balcony doors, pushing on the lever and pressing my weight into it as it all but swung open. The air was cooler than the air in that room, perhaps the shawl wasn¡¯t entirely useless. I heard footsteps behind me, heavy and slow as they clicked against the marble flooring.


    It¡¯s not him. It¡¯s not him. I repeated to myself. The lack of sleep was my enemy in that moment, as a large hand met my shoulder. I almost leapt out of my skin.


    Another murmur in Mahsulah: ¡°This isn¡¯t normal, Dear.¡±


    I sucked my teeth, feeling my cheeks and lips suction against them as my heart was beating in thunderous claps. My nose twinged with pins and needles. It was like no matter how hard I protested it, Shahin¡¯s presence was stained into me. Deeper than wine. Deeper than glass. Deeper than the blood that ran in cold flashes through my body. I was always surrounded by him.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get a better view.¡± Abyad said in Otlank. He waved his hand towards himself as he walked to the other end of the balcony and turned his back to me. Another invitation up to the roof.


    I approached him hesitantly, reaching one hand up towards his shoulders, then the other, until I clung onto him. He was crouched slightly, and took my thighs between his hands. The feeling sent my skin humming, and my mind whirring. I was rigid as ice by the time we made it up on the roof. He did it so gracefully, I almost hadn¡¯t realized we¡¯d moved from the balcony until I saw the silhouette of the bell tower from a higher perch. Abyad crouched down again, and let go of my legs. They fell slack, my weight luckily supporting myself on them as I forced my grip to release his neck.


    ¡°How do you do it?¡± I asked once we sat atop the roof, watching as the pink hue in the sky shifted to a more burnt shade of orange.


    ¡°Do what?¡± He asked coolly. ¡°Look so good all the time?¡±


    I loosed a breath of laughter, and shook my head. The boy who used to sit on that roof beside me never would have uttered such a response, but the man beside me now had every right to.


    ¡°No, Abyad.¡± I replied.


    ¡°How do you move so freely? You used to be as clumsy as a spiked-back panda, now you¡¯re¡­¡± My eyes shifted from the sky to his corded arms, the soft white tunic he wore was hugging him graciously¡ªas if blessed to be an article of his clothing. ¡°You move so easily.¡±


    Abyad smiled, his eyes still planted firmly on the sky. From here, we could see the piers from a distance. ¡°I just can.¡± He shrugged.


    I pouted, bringing my knees to my chest and feeling every movement. The muscles of my back pulled like thousand-pound chains, quiet snarls of pain rippling through my spine. ¡°It¡¯s not fair.¡± I replied.


    I missed being limber, and having my full range of motion. More than that, I missed being a child; a time when I was eager to give my love out to others without the biting anger that loomed over me at all times. Abyad kept his eyes on the sun as it danced off of the water. I peeked over at him, admiring him in that form. I couldn¡¯t fathom how such a man could speak under his breath, saying such kind things to me. The way he called me Themaz¡ªit wasn¡¯t out of friendship. Not with the tone he used. A man so deathly handsome loving me was something beyond my realm of comprehension. But there he was, moments ago, using the term as if wedded to me. I almost physically recoiled at the thought. Marriage¡ªthat was the imprisonment I¡¯d been sent to with Shahin. Those cold, beady eyes flashed in my mind as they glimmered with dark amusement.


    ¡°How is Father?¡± I asked, forcing my mind away from the memory.


    ¡°He¡¯s holding up.¡± Abyad replied tersely.


    ¡°And Uncle?¡±


    ¡°The same¡­¡±


    I nodded, trying desperately to keep my mind from its survival instinct. I was a freezer, not a fighter. I fawned, at times, but I always felt how my body locked up when I remembered Shahin. The air had grown stiff and awkward, as we sat there. I kept my eyes fixed on him, my left hand traveling to the small of my back.


    I always poked the same spot, that same wound beneath my bandages, when feeling cornered nowadays. It was where the second cut had been made¡ªthe cut deeper than the rest, reminding me of my worthlessness. Small blades of pain shot up the mostly-healed laceration, sending adrenaline coursing through me. It was all I could do to keep my eyes from growing too heavy. Sunset wasn¡¯t a time for peace, it was when I was counting down the moments until¡­


    ¡°Is something the matter?¡± Abyad asked, his eyes meeting mine. He kept a neutral expression, as the amber light illuminated his profile.


    ¡°No¡­¡± I replied. ¡°I was just thinking.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s never a good thing.¡± He said, a half-smile playing at his lips.


    I rolled my eyes, fixing my gaze back onto the sky.

 Chapter 27

    It would be late in the night, five months before Shahin¡¯s arrival to Mahsul, that Hala awoke from her sleep with a shrill scream. Haya, who had been mid-prayer at the time, rushed into her room with haste to sit at her daughter¡¯s bedside and comfort her.


    ¡°Hala, my love, did you have another bad dream?¡± She asked, bringing Hala into her arms.


    ¡°Mother¡­¡± Hala said. ¡°They never stop¡­!¡± She wept quietly, hugging Haya tightly.


    Haya squeezed her daughter, noticing a spot on the back of her robe: another opened wound. Never having seen Hala¡¯s back, herself, she swallowed her fear and instructed her daughter to undress. Namir¡¯s words of Br¨°n¡¯s warning echoed in her mind, as she readied herself for whatever may lay beneath the gauze.


    ¡°Let me change your bandages, darling.¡± She said, helping Hala disrobe.


    ¡°Mother¡­don¡¯t¡­¡± Hala said, cautious at the thought of her mother seeing her wounds.


    Her core shook as she took in the sight of the bandaging alone, the way it covered her from the base of her back, and up past her shoulder blades. She took a mental note of how the gauze had been wrapped, taking a new roll out of Hala¡¯s bedside table and untucking the old bandages, letting them fall loosely. The moonlight illuminated her back, and what Haya saw mortified her. Deep carvings in her back, though a bit more than halfway healed, still had layers of tissue exposed. The scabbing and indentations in Hala¡¯s back made Haya¡¯s eyes widen with terror, as her hands began to shake. It looked like chunks of flesh had been scooped out of her back, leaving craters in their place. Rage boiled within her, starting at her stomach and pumping up into her chest, reaching her heart.


    ¡°Darling¡­how did you ever live like this?¡± She asked, clumsily opening the healing salve as tears welled in her eyes. ¡°How could someone do this to you¡­?¡±


    Hala remained silent, unable to answer her mother¡¯s question. She was incredibly uncomfortable by her mother seeing her back, as if she had just shown Haya her worst nightmare. Hala tried to swallow her tears as her mother applied the salve, feeling shame and disgust towards herself. She could only hear her mother¡¯s sniffles as the sensation of her fingers ran across her back, making Hala all the more entrenched in her self-loathing. The sound of her mother¡¯s nose sniffling felt amplified due to the lack of words between the two; with Haya quickly wrapping the bandaging around Hala¡¯s body, pulling them taught. After she finished, Haya wiped her nose with the back of her hand, and blotted her eyes with her sleeves. She stood from the bed, fetching a new robe from Hala¡¯s closet. Hala stood from the bed, as her mother helped her into her new robe.


    ¡°Hala¡­¡± Haya began. ¡°I had no idea it was this bad¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Mother¡­¡± Hala said, still fighting back tears as she looked over her shoulder to Haya. ¡°I didn¡¯t want you to see my back¡­ever¡­¡±


    Haya looked sympathetically at her daughter, pulling her into a hug as another tear fell from her eyes. She quickly wiped it away, shaking her head at her daughter¡¯s apology.


    ¡°You¡¯re not to be sorry for this. That man, on the other hand¡­¡± she said scornfully. Anger filled her voice in a way Hala thought unimaginable, making her nervous.


    ¡°He¡¯s going to pay.¡± She said in a low voice. ¡°I¡¯ll kill him myself, I swear to God.¡±


    Haya turned on her heels to leave the room, with Hala following just a step behind her.


    ¡°Mother, please! Stop!¡± She called, stumbling as she followed her mother down the hall. Haya marched back to her chambers, with the commotion between the two causing Namir to wake up.


    ¡°Themaz¡­!¡± Haya shouted, her voice raw with emotion.


    ¡°Huh¡­?¡± Namir asked groggily, jolting up from his sleep.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to kill him myself¡­! That rat is as good as dead!¡± She scorned.


    ¡°What man, Haya¡­? What are you talking about¡­?¡± He asked, rubbing his face vigorously. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw Haya attempting to pick up his sword, only to hear it clank loudly as it hit the stand it was kept on. Namir rose from his bed, frantically assessing the situation. His eyes fell upon Hala, standing in the doorway with a meek expression.


    ¡°Br¨°n was right, Themaz, her back is worse than anything you¡¯ll ever see!¡± Haya exclaimed, looking at Namir with pained eyes. She had given up on picking up his sword, but her anger was palpable.


    ¡°Her back¡­?¡± Namir asked, still piecing together the context of what was going on. As realization set in, he felt his adrenaline rush through his body.


    ¡°You saw Hala¡¯s back?¡± He asked.


    ¡°She bled through the bandages, Namir, someone had to change them! It was horrific!¡± She stated.


    Namir looked to Hala, still standing behind the doorway fearfully. He inched towards her, looking at her as if he were trying to tame a wild beast.


    ¡°Hala¡­¡± he said quietly, motioning for her to move from the doorway.


    ¡°Come here, Mitalah. It¡¯s okay.¡± He coaxed.


    Hala stayed put, refusing to listen to her father. His heart ached at her obstinance, knowing it was coming from a place of fear. Though she could fully understand her father, she was still intimidated by him¡ªfully believing him to disdain her from having sent her to live in Otlak those years ago. Namir felt his pulse quicken as he tried once more to get his daughter to come see him, beckoning her in the gentlest voice he could muster.


    ¡°Ya, Hala, it¡¯s okay my dear. Baba just wants to see you. Please, Mitalah, come here.¡± He pleaded.


    Hala stood still for a moment, peering at him before taking a step from the doorway towards him. She approached him fearfully, keeping her shoulders tensed. Namir felt powerless in that moment, trying desperately to reach his daughter. As she came closer, he placed a hand on her shoulder, slowly reeling her in for a hug. For the first time in nine years, Namir was reminded of his daughter¡¯s touch. Namir¡¯s large frame dwarfed Hala, sending anxiety through her as he hugged her. She persevered, though, forcing herself to feel her father¡¯s strong arms as they caressed her gently. He cooed to her, with a soft voice she hadn¡¯t heard since her childhood.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Hala. Baba is here¡­you¡¯re safe.¡± He whispered.


    Hala¡¯s eyes pricked with tears at his voice, sounding so strained and quiet. She slowly wrapped her arms as far around him as she could reach, hugging him back and squeezing gently as her shoulders trembled. Finally able to express herself effectively, she spoke to her father.


    ¡°Baba¡­why did you send me to that palace?¡± She said through soft cries.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to, Mitalah, believe me¡­¡± he said, sounding so remorseful it even made Haya¡¯s eyes prick with tears.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to¡­¡± he repeated.


    ¡°I thought you didn¡¯t want me anymore, Baba¡­After he started hurting me¡­I thought you knew what he was going to do to me¡­¡±


    ¡°No, Mitalah, I couldn¡¯t have imagined in a million years what he was going to do to you. That man is a snake. I never should have trusted him. I¡¯m so, so sorry.¡±


    ¡°Please, don¡¯t make me go back there¡­!¡± She cried, hugging him tighter. Her reopened wound stung as she squeezed him, holding onto him in sheer desperation.


    ¡°I¡¯d never.¡± Namir said with conviction.


    His daughter¡¯s weakened state made his blood boil with rage, though he knew he couldn¡¯t act on it quite yet. He squeezed Hala back gently, being mindful of her back given how Haya had mentioned her reopening a wound.


    ¡°We can talk more in the morning, Mitalah. There¡¯s much to discuss. For now, go back to bed.¡± He told her in a hushed voice, wiping her tears with his hand as he cradled her face. Hala nodded, letting go of her father as she turned around and left the room. Finally alone, Haya looked at Namir with a serious expression.


    ¡°Do not look at her back, Namir.¡± She warned.


    ¡°That immortal was right¡­it¡¯s gruesome. If you take even a glimpse of it, you¡¯ll go mad.¡±


    Namir felt both confused and miffed by the incessant warning he¡¯d kept receiving, telling him not to look at his daughter¡¯s wounds. It made his mind race with possibilities, wondering just how bad her condition truly was. He couldn¡¯t help but wish he could see what was under her bandages, if only for a moment, to understand why everyone was so insistent for him not to lay his eyes upon it. He rubbed his face with his hand, wishing Abyad¡¯s plan could quicken its pace. He sighed impatiently, placing his faith only in Abyad and whatever higher being was out there to help him lead both his family, and his people.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    The next morning, Zaima came to fetch Hala from her room. She helped her sit upright, pulling her hair back into a braid with the utmost care. She went to Hala¡¯s closet to find a new robe for the day, choosing one of lavender color, and brought it to her.


    ¡°I think this one will suit your skin nicely, Your Highness.¡± She complimented with a warm smile.


    Hala returned the smile, nodding in agreement and standing from the bed on her own. Zaima seemed concerned at first, but as she watched Hala balance herself, she offered minimal help to the Princess, knowing she¡¯d be upset if treated too tenderly. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Al¡¯Namir asked me to come get you, he was hoping to speak with you this morning over breakfast.¡± She said, tying the sash to Hala¡¯s robe.


    ¡°Okay¡­¡± Hala replied, feeling unsure of her father¡¯s motives despite their heartfelt interaction the night prior. Her heart beat quickened with anticipation, as if she were going to be reprimanded.


    After being fully dressed, Zaima walked Hala to Namir¡¯s room. The large cherry wood doors seemed much more forgiving in the morning light, as its deep auburn stain sparkled with the sun¡¯s beams reflecting off of it. Zaima opened the door with impressive strength, and Hala crept in. Her father sat at his personal dining table, alone, with two plates of food before him. Hala inched into the room, still feeling her heat beat in her throat, as her father welcomed her with warm eyes.


    ¡°Hala, come in.¡± He smiled.


    She took a few steps further into the room, making her way to the table slowly. Namir noticed how she limped a bit as she walked, placing less weight on her right side. As she sat, a small grunt escaped her lips. She looked at her father nervously, with her hands folded in her lap.


    ¡°Eat, my child.¡± He said, motioning his hands to the food on the plate with a warm smile.


    Eggs with salt and pepper, mixed with grains and vegetables sat in front of her. The smell was mesmerizing to Hala, so she listened to her father¡¯s beckon and picked up her fork.


    Namir followed suit, eating his food while also keeping an eye on Hala¡¯s movements. She seemed to sit with her weight shifted to her left, indicating her right side was more tender to movement. His face fell as she met her own hand halfway to eat, unable to bring the fork fully to her own lips. Feeling her father¡¯s eyes on her, she met his gaze. The morning rays bounced from the green haze in his eyes, allowing her to see his emotions clearly. Pity, sorrow, and grief could be read from the rings in his eyes, making her feel inadequate.


    ¡°Father¡­¡± Hala began. ¡°Why do you look at me in such a way?¡± She asked.


    Namir took a bite from his food, wiping his lips with his napkin as he chewed it. He thought about his answer for only a short moment, before answering her.


    ¡°Because, Hala. Look at you. You used to be so¡­lively.¡± He said, trying to find the right words.


    ¡°You¡¯ve changed, and it¡¯s all my fault.¡±


    His admission was a surprise to Hala, who had been expecting her father to be much more angry at her condition. She looked at him with shock, as a small wave of closure washed over her. Such a small exchange seemed to have a profound effect on the young woman, making her put her fork down and look at her father with appreciative eyes.


    ¡°Baba¡­You said you didn¡¯t know Shahin would do this to me, right?¡± She asked.


    Namir shook his head, appearing remorseful as he took another bite of his food. Though his expression remained stoic, his eyes expressed his grief with little attempt to hide it.


    ¡°Then, I forgive you.¡± She stated bluntly.


    Her words caused him to look at her immediately, shocked at how easily she had offered her forgiveness to him. After all the times she¡¯d yelled at him when he tried to visit her, he expected a similarly explosive conversation from her this morning. Her Mahsulah had gotten much better, with little Otlank accent as she spoke. He took a deep breath, letting it out and nodding in understanding.


    ¡°Thank you, Mitalah.¡± He said. ¡°I truly thought I¡¯d never hear such words from you.¡±


    Hala was slightly surprised with herself, as well, finding her capacity for forgiveness to be far more than she¡¯d anticipated. While the nagging voice in her head told her not to trust her father, she fought it by recalling all the times he¡¯d been there for her as a child. He¡¯d never purposefully steered her in the wrong direction, or laid a hand on her in a way to make her think he¡¯d despised her. The narrative she¡¯d created was one she¡¯d allowed to run rampant for the sake of sanity. The two sat in the dining room, eating quietly for the most part. It was after they ate that Namir struck up conversation.


    ¡°You know, he¡¯d never say it¡­but Abyad missed you terribly.¡± He said, deciding Abyad could act as a good conversation starter between the two.


    Hala raised an eyebrow at Namir, smiling slightly.


    ¡°Yeah?¡± She asked. ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°The day after you married, he sat in his room pouting until Asad carried him out by the collar of his shirt.¡± Namir recalled with a humorous inflection.


    ¡°If you¡¯d have seen him, you would have cried of laughter.¡±


    Hala¡¯s smile grew wider, imagining a young and wiry Idris fighting Asad as he forced him out of his room. She had many questions about how he had been during her absence, using the story as a doorway into them.


    ¡°Was he happy, while I was gone?¡± She asked.


    A new glimmer shone in Namir¡¯s eye, one Hala couldn¡¯t quite pin an emotion to.


    ¡°Heavens, no. He was snappy all the time, with a tongue as sharp as a blade. Asad had to start taking him to the sparring grounds to let off steam with me by the end of the first year.¡± He said, talking with his hands.


    ¡°Once the boy gained some muscle, he was all about fighting. He tried to best me once, that was all it took for him to learn his place.¡± He continued.


    Hala seemed entertained by the idea of Abyad showing his rage, only knowing him to be calm and kind. She wondered what Namir did to put him in place, interjecting as he began to speak once more to inquire about it.


    ¡°What did you do?¡± Hala asked.


    ¡°I had Asad bring him to the training grounds and try to fight me.¡± Namir chortled. He seemed to recall the memory fondly, like it were coveted to him.


    ¡°He barely ended up breaking some of the ground beneath him as I pummeled him for being to rough.¡±


    Her father¡¯s might intrigued her, as she leaned into the table with her elbows to listen more intently to his story.


    ¡°Father¡­you didn¡¯t beat him up too horribly, did you?¡± She asked with a judgmental gaze.


    ¡°I roughed him up a bit.¡± Namir winked. ¡°The boy has a mean jab, but he was no match for me.¡±


    Hala raised her eyebrow at him once more, not very happy by his pride in his brute strength. He shifted in his seat under her watch, as if it were Haya scornfully looking at him.


    ¡°The boy¡¯s resilient.¡± He reassured her. ¡°It was during his birthdays that he missed you the most, though.¡± He said, changing the topic.


    Hala¡¯s eyes softened at Namir¡¯s words, probing him to continue with her expression.


    ¡°We tried throwing a couple of banquets for him, inviting nobility for him to socialize with¡­he was the life of the party, able to socialize with most anyone¡ªbut when no one was watching, he¡¯d look around the room in search of something. I know deep in my heart, he was looking for you¡­¡± he said, looking at his now bare plate.


    Hala imagined the scene: Abyad acting as his usual self, livening up each face he¡¯d come across and winning their hearts¡ªonly to have his own face fall with disappointment in the crowded room once the party goers were occupied with other things. The thought pulled at her heart strings, making her chest sink with sadness at her inability to have been at his birthday parties.


    ¡°We sent invitations to Shahin¡¯s palace.¡± Namir finally spoke up once more. ¡°He asked us incessantly after each party why you hadn¡¯t shown up¡ªand all we had were letters saying you were away on personal matters with that Duke.¡±


    The King spoke the man¡¯s name with disdain, as disgust filled his eyes. Hala watched her father intently, never recalling a letter ever reaching her eyes regarding Abyad¡¯s birthdays. The sound of Shahin¡¯s name sent a wave of cold blood through her, and her back emanated a deep ache from its wounds.


    ¡°After the third party, Abyad said he didn¡¯t want to throw them anymore¡ªnot if you weren¡¯t going to come.¡± He admitted.


    This intrigued Hala once more, curious again as to why he seemed so attached to her. Deep down, she knew the reason¡ªbut her mouth would move before she had the chance to suppress her question.


    ¡°Why?¡± She asked.


    Namir offered a somber smile at her, looking at her affectionately. He was endeared by her cluelessness, and thankful that her sense of wonder remained despite all that she had gone through.


    ¡°Mitalah, why do you think?¡± He asked in return.


    ¡°Because we¡¯re friends?¡± She asked, looking at her father innocently.


    Her inability to broach the topic in an age-appropriate way made Namir laugh, as he shook his head.


    ¡°I was never the best one to have these discussions with you¡­¡± he said after sighing.


    He looked at her knowingly, and she returned the look. Both of them were aware of the true reason for Abyad¡¯s decision, but didn¡¯t dare say it aloud. Hala, because she couldn¡¯t come to terms with being loved; and Namir, because he knew the young adults were more than capable of coming to such conclusions on their own. Part of him, though, also kept quiet out of paternal instinct, wanting to keep his daughter away from any man than himself¡ªto make sure no further harm could come her way.


    ¡°Abyad is a good young man.¡± Namir finally said. ¡°I¡¯m glad you insisted on keeping him around.¡±


    Hala felt a sense of pride in Abyad, knowing he was a strong and loyal subject to her family during her time away from home. Just as she¡¯d gotten lost in thought, imagining his transformation, Namir said something that piqued her interest.


    ¡°While you were away, many women tried to admit their feelings for him.¡± He admitted, throwing the topic in ever-so casually. He eyed her with amusement, gauging her reaction.


    Hala¡¯s initial response was one of little surprise, considering his appearance and kind demeanor¡ªit wasn¡¯t impossible for her to wrap her mind around the idea of women lining the Kingdom¡¯s palace in an attempt to be wedded to him.


    ¡°Did they?¡± She asked with a bit of a smirk. ¡°I¡¯ll bet he was pretty excited.¡± She commented.


    ¡°They did¡­and he was, for a while.¡± Namir replied.


    Hala seemed entertained by Namir¡¯s response, looking up at him with a glint in her eyes.


    ¡°He dated a couple of girls, but he¡¯d always complain that they had nothing to offer.¡± He recounted. ¡°One was too quiet¡­the other was too needy¡­whenever I asked him how a woman was supposed to act¡ª¡° he said, cutting himself off with his own laughter.


    The Princess watched her father as a smile played at her own lips, intrigued to know the answer Abyad had given the King when asked such a question.


    ¡°He¡¯d always say ¡®I don¡¯t know! Like Hala?¡¯¡± He said through laughter.


    Hala offered a pitiful laugh at the comment, finding it absurd. She recalled how she couldn¡¯t find a suitor in her younger years due to her outspoken nature, and independence. It was almost comical to her, that she¡¯d be his standard for how women ought to act. She shifted in her chair uncomfortably, feeling her back grow stiff and achy from remaining seated in the wooden chair for so long.


    ¡°Did you and Mother miss me?¡± She asked after a long silence between the two.


    ¡°Of course we did, Mitalah.¡± Namir replied, reaching his hand out and taking it in hers. The Princess looked at her father with a somewhat hopeful expression, happy to hear that her presence was missed.


    ¡°We spoke of you every day, just not around Abyad.¡± He smiled, leaning into his elbow closest to her with a lighthearted expression. Hala smiled back at Namir, enjoying his warm nature.


    It was during their time together that they slowly rekindled their broken relationship, coming to understand where things had gone wrong. Namir explained later into their discussion how exactly Hala wound up forced into a marriage to Shahin, bridging the gaps in the story she had been told by the Duke. She kept many of the details private of what had occurred between the couple during their marriage, only discussing what she felt comfortable. Though Namir wanted to ask her more, he didn¡¯t want to push her past what she could handle. It was only when Idris was mentioned that Namir noticed Hala¡¯s eyes light up, causing him to smile whenever he saw the glimmer in her eyes reappear. He offered her words of wisdom, telling her to follow her heart¡ªand to no longer feel obligated to find love for the sake of her kingdom; but for herself.


    Hala took his words to heart, thinking heavily over the next few months about how to go about speaking to Abyad; how to tell him she couldn¡¯t fathom his seeing her as anything more than a friend, and express her inability to comprehend love as a whole after what Shahin had done to her. After four nights of careful, heavy deliberation, she¡¯d come to her conclusion: she¡¯d tell him how she felt in Mahsulah, a way that felt right for her. She conferred with Br¨°n on the topic, who encouraged her to embrace her womanhood and use it to her advantage.


    ¡°Ya got yer figure back, ya may as well use it to yer advantage.¡± He commented slyly. ¡°Whip out yer new fangled language skills sooner rather than later.¡±


    Hala recalled her time at the brothel in her teen-hood, wondering if the women in the establishment may have been onto something. She decided Br¨°n was right, even taking time to look at herself in the mirror in her spare time alone to figure out how to comfortably look appealing while still healing from her injuries. She was concocting her own plan to find herself, and where her heart wanted her to go, just as Abyad was concocting one to save his Kingdom and prove himself a man worthy of staying by Hala¡¯s side.

 Chapter 28: Hala

    It had been eight months since I¡¯d come home. My body was still a problematic mess, but it worked how I asked it most days. No longer was I bandaged up like Gundlach rulers post-mortem, nor was I skin over bone. I had the figure back that I so desperately wanted those months ago, though there was still a part of me that remained in looser clothing; the part of me that heard Shahin¡¯s repulsion soon after this figure filled out in my early adulthood. Mother was happy to see me on the modest side, informing me that other women had chosen more questionable attire in recent years. It wasn¡¯t until Br¨°n had mentioned using my figure to my advantage that I asked Zaima for help in changing my wardrobe. The maiden¡¯s face lit with joy when I brought the topic to her attention, assuring me she¡¯d find me the perfect robes. My fate was in her hands as the now 17 year-old left with a smile and a pep in her step.


    I sank to the bed, my hands pulling to my face stiffly. I hadn¡¯t seen Abyad in three months. I wondered if he was hiding from me, like he did in our youth, but something felt different. Our last interaction on the roof, he refused to look at me. I didn¡¯t know if it was because I still looked as broken as I felt¡ªor if it was because something else was on his mind.


    I don¡¯t kiss and tell.


    My mind remembered those words with such clarity it was frightening. I wondered if he truly was a rake of a man¡ªperhaps playing me and other women he wanted to use. The side of me that lacked trust lapped such an idea up in an instant, running so far with it that I was imagining him intwined with a host of noble women. I cringed at the notion, imagining that muscular body with any other was more than mortifying. I stopped myself from such assumptions, as well as being mad over them, when the memory of my own deflowering and ruin reared its ugly head. My hands fell to the small of my back, as my fingers traced the divots and peaks from the scars that laid neatly under my robe.


    I was interrupted by Zaima¡¯s return. It took her sheer moments to find a stack of what I thought were traditional robes, their vibrantly dyed silks and cottons catching my eyes.


    ¡°These¡­¡± Zaima began. ¡°Are still modest, in comparison to what I¡¯ve seen some of the noblewomen wearing, but I think it¡¯s closer to what you¡¯re looking for.¡±


    Her face shone with satisfaction, pure triumph, as the articles of clothing were set on my bed. Her deep brown eyes met mine, excited to finally see something more than the long and modest attire I so often donned. When I had initially gained the weight back, she hawed at me that she wished to fill out in a similar fashion. I couldn¡¯t muster more than a mumble and a sheepish smile in response, at the time. The first gown she had me try on was still too loose at the chest, meant for a more shapeless silhouette. Though its shade of purple was lovely, it wasn¡¯t the style I was hoping for. Zaima wasn¡¯t a fan of it, either, instantly telling me to undress once she laid eyes on how it drowned my waist in fabric. I was confused, both putting it on and taking it off. I wasn¡¯t used to clothing that didn¡¯t split down the center.


    The second dress was more noteworthy, a deep hue of burgundy. It was too short for my liking, falling just above my knees. Zaima insisted that the amount of skin shown was still modest in a sense, but there was a part of me that couldn¡¯t find comfort in agreeing to wear such clothing.


    ¡°Maybe to sleep in, during a warm night¡­¡± I told Zaima.


    She rolled her eyes in a typical teenage fashion, a small smile pulling at her lips as she unfolded a few other dresses. My eyes fell upon a long, black gown that had a high neckline. Zaima saw how I eyed the void-like fabric, her eyes aglow with excitement as she picked it up and handed it to me.


    ¡°You can still show skin and be modest, Hala.¡± She reminded me as she placed it in my hands. ¡°Modesty is more than what you wear¡ªit¡¯s how you carry yourself.¡±


    I nodded as I felt its buttery material. The cashmere soaked in all light, and I was entranced by how it moved as I walked to the room divider. Pulling the long gown over my head proved difficult¡ªthe high neckline was hard to get on. Zaima had called it a ¡®turtle neck,¡¯ and I understood why once I felt the way it nearly suffocated me at the throat. It was snug, just as the rest of the form-fitting dress. I felt a chill of air touch my right thigh¡ªa slit traveled from just below my hip, down to my toe. There was no way to wear an undergarment with such a dress, and that left me blushing.


    I walked from the room divider, and Zaima¡¯s expression was pure feline-amusement. She loved the way it looked on me, and when I saw myself in the mirror I understood why. I was devastating in the dress. A woman. My buxom figure was hugged by the cloth, clinging to my curves with a vengeance. I ogled myself, and Zaima let out an exaggerated squeal.


    ¡°This is the one, Your Highness.¡± She urged, her voice deep and excited. ¡°You simply must wear dresses like this.¡±


    I squared my shoulders and turned to look at my backside. There were small bumps beneath the fabric that were obviously scars, making the saliva that coated my throat thick.


    ¡°Are you sure¡­?¡± I almost whispered.


    ¡°If you want to show off your figure, you have to make compromises.¡± She tutted.


    The young girl had a point. I could default to a robe of Mahsulian style, that was tighter in fit¡ªbut I¡¯d see a similar effect on my back. There was no way around it unless I expected to wear bandages under every article of clothing I wore to hide the scarring¡ªand it¡¯d be a falsity to say I didn¡¯t debate such a choice. I sighed a shaky breath, nodding my head.


    ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll wear this one.¡± I said, my voice soft and scared. The slit up the side was still a lot of skin to show, but the other dresses Zaima brought were even more revealing. She smiled brilliantly, wrapping her arms around me tightly. It was amazing, how a girl almost ten years my junior was so much more mature in certain ways than I was; but still so childlike. I hugged her back, and thanked her for bringing me the gowns.


    Br¨°n visited later that evening, as I still wore the gown. I wanted Abyad to come to me that night, but I was unsure of how. His absence left me itchy, almost like I had a new kind of frustration welling within me. I felt it just below my gut, burning me from the inside out.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    A dark chuckle emitted from him as he appeared from the shadows, strolling over to the desk at the far end of the room by the balcony¡¯s doors as he watched me.


    ¡°Impressive.¡± He said simply, leaning his backside to the desk. He braced himself with his hands behind him, on the lip of the wood.


    ¡°Oh?¡± I asked. ¡°I thought you wouldn¡¯t touch a human like me with a ten-foot pole.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t.¡± He replied. ¡°But I can at least tell ya when yer lookin¡¯ good, Lass. The dress is a keeper.¡±


    A half smirk played at my lips as I opened the vanity drawer, new pans of makeup and cosmetics filled them since Mother had began dropping in regularly. Any shade she didn¡¯t particularly like, she gave to me¡ªand anything she thought reminded her of me wound up in my possession as well. I opened a grey pan of eyeshadow, applying it skillfully.


    ¡°Well,¡± I began. ¡°Do the Powers That Be see Abyad visiting tonight in my fate?¡¯


    ¡°Aye.¡± Was all Br¨°n said in reply.


    I had asked the question as a joke, but his response made my eyes widen. I forced them to narrow, bringing a darker shade of grey out and swathing the brush in my hands through it.


    ¡°Impressive.¡± I quipped in response.


    Br¨°n chuckled again, his eyes traveling over my figure.


    ¡°I think yer getting the hang of it.¡± He finally said.


    ¡°Of what?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Overcoming that illness in yer mind. You ain¡¯t had those dreams in weeks, ¡®ave ya?¡± He asked.


    I looked to him and shook my head, a sense of pride washing over me. Eating with Mother and Father; spending time with Zaima doing things other than tending to my wounds; picking up languages I thought I¡¯d entirely forgotten; all of these things were keeping my mind off of the past. He smiled solemnly.


    ¡°That¡¯s good, Lass.¡± He said softly.


    I knew he saw something that I couldn¡¯t. He knew things I¡¯d never learn ahead of time. Those Powers That Be prevented him from telling anyone of any of it. He was nothing more than an all-seeing eye with no mouth when it came to the Fates, something I¡¯d come to understand during our discussions. His terseness wasn¡¯t because he wanted to keep such information to himself; it was because he could face punishment for speaking about the things he was allowed to know. I understood the fear. Fear I¡¯d known all too well.


    ¡°When will he come?¡± I asked, changing the topic.


    ¡°Don¡¯t go to sleep early, that¡¯s all I can tell ya.¡± He said, cracking his usual deviant smile.


    I nodded my head, taking his words in as the amber light filled the room. Sunset was still a difficult time, one that brought insurmountable paranoia clawing at the walls I¡¯d formed around my inner-peace. The peace I clung onto with such ferocity, hoping that no one could ever take it away from me again. I had gotten my laugh back, despite how it sent me into small waves of pain. My face was plumped, and my eyes less hollow. There was a flame rekindling inside of them, the flame I¡¯d been given at birth. The flame that man had nearly smothered.


    Br¨°n saw how my face tensed as the golden rays bled into my room, the large windows welcoming the light.


    ¡°Ya alright, Lass?¡± He asked.


    ¡°It just doesn¡¯t get easier, this time of day.¡± I confided.


    ¡°I know.¡± He replied.


    The immortal knew everything. He was arrogant, but I supposed that came with the territory once an entity such as himself hit a certain age.


    ¡°Br¨°n,¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Are there others like you?¡±


    Br¨°n loosed a breath, deliberating how much was enough to satiate my effervescent curiosity. How much was enough to keep him from getting into trouble with the Powers.


    ¡°Aye. We all have our own specialties, weaknesses, and powers.¡± He explained. ¡°We can¡¯t interfere with each others¡¯ strings of fate, nor can we see ¡®em.¡±


    I took in the cryptic answer to the best of my ability, digesting it slowly. If Br¨°n wasn¡¯t the only one of his kind, where were the rest? As if reading my mind, he spoke again.


    ¡°There are dozens of us each in a Kingdom at any given time. I ain¡¯t seen the Council of Seven in almost a century, ever since I hid meself in that cave in Otlak. We like to keep our distance, else we end up arguin¡¯.¡± He said.


    Dozens? Council of Seven? I shook my head once, then scarcely applied coal to my lash line. The newfound information was almost dizzying. Looking at myself in the mirror, though, I was proud. I looked innocent, but dangerous in all black. It made me look similarly to how I felt on the inside; dark, alluring, like the woman I¡¯d always wanted to be as a young girl.


    ¡°Ya look good, Bonnie.¡± Br¨°n said, a hint of platonic affection in his voice. I didn¡¯t care what the myths said¡ªBr¨°n was a kind entity, at the end of the day. At least, towards those he felt pity for.


    ¡°Thank you¡­¡± I replied.


    ¡°He¡¯s a lucky Lad. Make sure he doesn¡¯t go straying down an unfortunate path.¡± He said solemnly.


    ¡°How so?¡± I asked. It seemed like Br¨°n was entrusting me with a difficult task by the way he made the request.


    ¡°He could either become a man of great power, or a bringer of misfortune. He needs to tread lightly with his trickery.¡± He cautioned.


    ¡°Abyad hardly tells me what he¡¯s planning. He¡¯s much too scared to share such things with me.¡± I shrugged him off.


    ¡°Aye. That¡¯s why you put on yer armor just like he does¡­¡± he said, raking my figure in the gown. ¡°And get that information from ¡®im in other ways. Without usin¡¯ yer words.¡±


    I understood the gist of what Br¨°n was saying¡ªbut the thought of intimacy in such a way was out of my comfort zone. The thought of using my body to gain the upper hand was overwhelming, in and of itself. I looked at him with hesitancy, and he smiled grimly.


    ¡°I know it¡¯s hard. But it¡¯s what you gotta do to help yerself, and the Lad.¡± He reassured me.


    I didn¡¯t know if he actually knew the burden he¡¯d just placed upon me. Sex was a mortifying topic, and he knew nothing of my inability to bear child. If Abyad and I¡­he¡¯d be expecting a child. I knew him. I knew how badly he wanted a family, even if he never said he wanted one. The way he watched me and my parents growing up, he desperately wanted that for himself. If I had it in me¡ªliterally¡ªI would give him such a thing in a heartbeat. But I was nothing more than defective goods.


    ¡°Everything¡¯ll play out as the Powers will it.¡± Br¨°n added, seeing the distress in my expression.


    With that, I forced myself to trust him.

 Chapter 29: Abyad

    It had been so long since I¡¯d seen Hala that my chest ached at the mere thought of her. I hadn¡¯t the time, consumed with meetings and trivial matters that needed tending to should Shahin¡¯s arrival result in the precipice of war. I was more than prepared to set foot onto the battlefield, need be. As were Namir and Asad, and the rest of our military. We spent countless days, discussing possible coups and ways to launch assaults. It was a chore, making sure we held the meetings at odd hours of the night to ensure the safety of our plans. I¡¯d come to my room after each of them, and the last thing my mind thought of as I drifted off to sleep was her. The way she smiled, the way her shoulders trembled as she laughed. I was concerned that my time without seeing her had been detrimental, that she¡¯d be in a state similar to when I¡¯d left her after bringing her back to her room that evening on the roof: sleepless and haunted. I¡¯d finalized the last assault strategy we needed to be fully prepared that night when I walked to my room, and lingered by Hala¡¯s door. There was something attracting me to her chambers, a magnetic force that pulled me towards it as if I were a fish being reeled in on a hook. My breath hitched as I found myself standing there, hand already knocking on the wood.


    ¡°Abyad¡­¡± Hala said as she opened the door. One look at her almost sent me to the floor.


    Whoever had dressed her, they were possessed. Absolutely insane. She wasn¡¯t just looking better¡ªshe was breathtaking. A long, tight gown hugged her curves; black as that moonless night. For a moment, I¡¯d wondered if Br¨°n put her in such an outfit. Surely, he¡¯d have found it entertaining to see my reaction to her like that from the shadows. The style was something similar to what women in Mahsul wore two winters ago, a high slit going up the leg, her bare thigh poking through when she leaned to her right. She¡¯d been playing with that damned makeup again, but she wore it nicely. Grey, silver, black, I couldn¡¯t begin to describe the way her eyes looked. Coal lined her lash line, bringing out the piercing amber-green as the lamplight illuminated her face.


    ¡°I was hoping you¡¯d come see me¡­¡± she said shyly, tucking a piece of her perfectly crimped waves behind her ears. She moved to the side, letting me in.


    ¡°You were?¡± I asked with feline amusement, putting on my false confidence.


    ¡°Yes, Themaz.¡± She said the word so quietly, I almost hadn¡¯t caught it. Her shy demeanor was almost jarring.


    ¡°Nice to see you picking up some Mahsulah when you¡¯re not spending time changing your wardrobe¡­¡± I japed, eyeing her figure again.


    Hala retuned my jest with a small smile. She had gotten back to a healthy weight¡ªshe was full-figured. I thought she would remain petite, with hardly more than a bump of emphasis¡ªbut this, this was something that woke something deep within me. Nearly four months without seeing her, and this was the woman who greeted me?


    It took so much self-restraint not to test her. To see if I could rile that temper that I knew sat just beneath the surface. To see the amber in her eyes burn like the lamps that lit the room. I loosed a breath, forcing myself to walk to the armchair I usually sat at. She watched me with an unusual expression¡ªas if she had something weighing heavily on her mind.


    ¡°Abyad¡­¡± she said my name again, a Mahsulian accent poking through now¡ªno longer plagued with that harsh Otlank accent. The drawl pulled my heart up, strumming its strings fervently. Hope and arousal stirred within me.


    ¡°I wondered if you even¡­¡± she stopped herself, fixing what she was going to say. ¡°Have you been avoiding me?¡± She asked sheepishly as she pulled the stool of her vanity close to the chair.


    She almost sat between my lap, looking at me with large and innocent eyes. How I wished to be that stool.


    ¡°No¡­why would you think such a thing?¡± I asked, leaning in on instinct.


    ¡°You never came to visit. It¡¯s been months, Themaz.¡± She said, using the same term of endearment. Was she seeing me as her childhood friend, or something more in that moment?


    ¡°I¡¯ve been terribly busy, Hala. I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± I said, unable to keep my usual facade in tact. I was used to being on the other end of this, beguiling women with a charm that came across as effortless. What Hala was doing wasn¡¯t a charade, though. She merely worked a magic on me that no other woman could.


    ¡°Ana mort fitne kazah?¡± She asked shyly.


    I don¡¯t look like death anymore to you?


    My jaw almost dropped. When had she¡­?


    She continued in Mahsulah, her eyes still wide with innocence.


    ¡°You not coming¡­it made me think so many things. I got scared, Idris. I was scared you¡¯d abandoned me. That I was too much for you to bear¡­¡±


    My heart lurched, my mouth not working to deliver the words I wanted to tell her. She was so wrong, so entirely amiss as to why I¡¯d been absent. A short moment of silence lingered between us before she spoke again.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about you, you know.¡± A bit of an edge to her voice¡ªthe edge I was used to from those years ago. It was different, in Mahsulah. It allowed the vulnerability she felt to poke through.


    ¡°I had to come back to how I feel about you for four nights in a row, how I felt seeing you with those children; how I felt seeing you with Jamila in the courtyard¡­I felt jealous.¡±


    I pinched my thigh hard. This was no dream.


    ¡°Ne kazeh wa ana Themaz, ne ana Themaz mintinakh¡­¡± She said, barely above a whisper.


    You are my dearest friend, my dearest beloved.


    I almost thought she was going to say each word I¡¯d uttered the night she slept verbatim, but what she was saying wasn¡¯t an uncommon way to address a loved one. My jaw had nearly gone slack.


    ¡°I know how you spoke to me, that night we last sat on the roof. How you called me your beloved, how you called me beautiful¡ªhow¡­how many other women are you doing this with?¡±This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    The question hit me like an arrow to the chest. My eyebrows raised, then furrowed as my face contorted with bemusement.


    ¡°There is no other woman I¡¯d speak so fondly to.¡± I replied a bit too desperately. It was a half-truth. There was no other woman I¡¯d speak to so fondly and mean it.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± She asked. ¡°When you¡¯d mentioned not kissing and telling¡­what was that about?¡±


    There it was. The comment I¡¯d been waiting for, dreading, for the last several months.


    ¡°Hala, that wasn¡¯t¡ª¡°


    ¡°Don¡¯t.¡± She interjected, cold resentment in her voice. ¡°Don¡¯t try to say it was meaningless.¡±


    ¡°There was meaning behind it¡ªbut not like you think. I had to make sure you¡¯d be safe, Hala.¡±


    Her eyes filled with a bitter upset. ¡°My safety was guaranteed by sleeping with another woman?¡± She asked.


    She wasn¡¯t the broken Princess I¡¯d seen some months ago¡ªshe stood firmly in her words. She sat tall¡ªregally¡ªjust like when she stood at the edges of the sparring grounds. I saw it for a brief second, the Queen she could become. Even though her sadness was apparent, there wasn¡¯t a single tear brimming her eyes.


    ¡°As odd as it sounds: yes.¡± I stated.


    ¡°Was she beautiful?¡± She pressed, voice low and almost threatening. I needed to tread lightly, but I couldn¡¯t lie. Not with those eyes searing into me. After all, Jamila¡¯s beauty was the only thing that made it possible to sleep with her¡ªbut Hala¡¯s beauty was much more than superficial.


    ¡°Her beauty was nothing compared to yours.¡± I said truthfully.


    Hala scanned my face for any signs of deceit. Her gaze lingered for a long while on my eyes, before falling to my hands. She¡¯d lost the threatening demeanor she¡¯d had just seconds ago.


    ¡°You were disgusted by my body, weren¡¯t you?¡± She asked quietly.


    ¡°No, Hala. Your body was as beautiful as it is, now.¡± I tried to reassure her.


    ¡°Don¡¯t lie to me, Idris.¡± She scorned. I bristled.


    We were arguing. I never wanted this. I wanted the admission of feelings she had for me to be wholesome, the kind that women read about in those sappy romance novels that lined our libraries.


    ¡°I¡¯m not lying.¡± I strained, raising my voice. ¡°I¡¯d never lie to you. Do you think I wanted to resort to fucking some snot-nosed noblewoman who couldn¡¯t do as she was asked?¡±


    Her eyes softened, though she remained sitting tall.


    ¡°You never told me what it is you¡¯re hiding.¡± She said, her voice a combination of sultry and somber. Her hand touched my knee as she leaned forward. I was so thankful she hadn¡¯t followed in Jamila¡¯s footsteps as far as fashion preferences go, or I¡¯d have lost all control. She remained modest, in an alluring sense¡ªmaking me wish I could tear that dress off of her.


    ¡°I¡¯m hiding nothing of importance from you.¡± I said tightly.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe you.¡± She said, leaning further into my knee with her hand. She stood slowly, pinning me in place to the armchair as she bent over and looked me in the eyes. In that moment I knew that once she took the throne, she¡¯d be nothing like Al¡¯Namir or Al¡¯Haya. She held a different air of authority, making me hold in the shudder that wanter to spider-walk down my spine.


    ¡°You¡¯re hiding something to spare me, and I can¡¯t handle any more lies.¡±


    The emotion in her voice was genuine, almost grating as she spoke, even though her volume was quiet. It was her eyes, though. Her eyes looked into mine with such a chilling heat, I felt like I could implode. I realized then that there was sadness and grief in her eyes fueling the fire within them; it wasn¡¯t fervor or passion, and being on the receiving end of it was more than horrifying. I couldn¡¯t speak with her looking at me in that way.


    ¡°Abyad¡­I was told years ago¡­¡± she began, digging deep to muster the courage to speak as her expression softened, watching me with such reverence. ¡°The man who brought me the same warmth as that of sleep, the same feeling of peace¡­the man who¡¯d want to fight my battles in my stead¡­that was the man who truly loved me.¡±


    My chest tightened at her words.


    ¡°Am I wrong to assume you¡¯re that man?¡± Her voice shook as she asked such a question, the accent¡­she wore it so naturally as she used her mother tongue. It was a new level of intimacy I¡¯d only been capable of dreaming of until this moment.


    ¡°I¡­¡± I stammered. ¡°Ya, Hala¡­why would you hide being able to understand me?¡± I deflected as I looked down to the right. My hand met my mouth, cupping my top lip.


    ¡°Because I had to make sure I had it right, Idris.¡± She said, full of conviction. ¡°There was something I couldn¡¯t understand.¡±


    ¡°What couldn¡¯t you understand?¡± I asked, my voice turning quiet and breathy as I looked at her again.


    ¡°Why you¡¯d choose to love me.¡±


    Such words made my eyes grow wide as they could go, and my breath hitched in my throat. My hands reached for her shoulders, gripping them lightly.


    ¡°Why you?!¡± I asked, my volume increasing as true distress flooded me. ¡°Because, Hala, you¡¯ve been my everything ever since I met you. I don¡¯t even know if it¡¯s okay for me to feel how I feel about you¡ªI mean, look at you, Themaz.¡± My eyes raked her figure, the way her hair fell perfectly around her face as she looked me in the eyes was enough to make me go into a blind frenzy.


    ¡°I¡¯m in no place to stake claim to your presence, whether it be for a fleeting moment, or for eternity.¡± I continued, my voice growing faint.


    ¡°Abyad¡­you¡¯re entitled to my time. You¡¯re more than welcome to spend as much of it as you¡¯d like¡ª¡± She said exasperatedly.


    ¡°No.¡± I said shortly. ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±


    ¡°Answer me this, then:¡± she asked as a ghost of a grimace lined her face. ¡°Would you rather spend your time with a woman who is less of a burden?¡±


    ¡°A burden?¡± I scoffed, feeling more anger than sadness.


    ¡°Hala, you are no burden. No other woman could ever compare to you, or bring me the same desire to keep them happy. You¡¯re the only one I want to make smile, Themaz.¡±


    Her eyes became weary, and she nearly fell into me as her arms went around my neck. ¡°Then just do that. Spend time with me. Make me smile, like back then¡­¡±


    The way her voice was so raw with emotion, I wanted to show her how serious I was.


    ¡°It will be different, now.¡± I said, lifting her chin from my chest with my hand. ¡°I want you to be smiling for other reasons. Let me get that dress off of you¡ª¡±


    Her cheeks flushed with pure crimson, her eyes meeting mine with hesitancy.


    ¡°I would be lying if I said that didn¡¯t sound appealing, Abyad.¡± She said. ¡°I¡¯m just scared.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to be scared of.¡± I reassured her. ¡°I plan on making you feel safe, making you enjoy it as much as I know I will.¡±


    She was cautious, and for a moment I thought she¡¯d completely shut the notion down until her face came close to mine. It was my cheeks growing hot then, feeling her in such proximity. My hands moved to her hips, feeling the supple skin beneath the thin fabric she wore.


    ¡°I want you, so badly. I have always wanted¡ª¡°


    Her lips met mine before I could finish my sentence, kissing me with such passion I almost lost myself entirely. When my hands met the dips of her hips, a shaky breath left her. I loosened my grip as my left hand began its way towards the slit of her dress. When I touched her bare skin, I felt her shiver.

 Chapter 30: Hala

    Abyad was burning with desire as he laid me on my bed, pulling my gown off with such ferocity I¡¯d never expected. I felt it, for the first time in almost nine years¡ªthe deep stirring of arousal within my core. The longing, the yearning to be ravished. I was scared, yes, but the calm of Abyad¡¯s blue eyes lulled me. Just like in our teen years when he apologized for Jamila¡¯s actions. Just like in the courtyard as he carried me. Just as all those nights I¡¯d awoken from nightmares and he¡¯d been there; those still, serene eyes were an anchor for me through the waves of apprehension that hit me in fizzing wakes. The more he explored my body, roving over each peak and valley, the stronger the feeling of arousal grew. This was nothing like my husband¡¯s ¡®love,¡¯ this was pure intimacy. Each way he tested my body made me hot, unbearably so. I craved him, just as he craved me.


    ¡°I can¡¯t.¡± He said breathily, voice husky with desire. ¡°The teasing can wait for another time. Right now, I need to feel you.¡± He said.


    He didn¡¯t have to tease me much, to begin with. It surprised me how ready I was for him. I didn¡¯t know my body was still capable of such brazen displays of arousal before he began diving into the depths of my soul with each thrust. I was sent into waves of ecstasy, the way he touched me as he went. Gentle, but firm, his calloused hands grazed my skin in loving kneads. I was more prepared for this than I thought, feeling his moans on the nape of my neck as they escaped his lips in shudders. I was complete, with him inside of me.


    ¡°Hala¡­there aren¡¯t words for how this feels¡­for how you feel.¡± He breathed as another tightly wound moan loosed from his lips.


    My sighs came out in hoarse huffs, writhing as he meshed with me. We could have done this for hours¡ªyears, even. Back and forth, meeting and drawing away. Time escaped us, as the call for Inaad rang from the bell tower. It was coming up on midnight, and I was impressed at how we kept such momentum. We found different ways for our bodies to mesh, settling on ones bringing us both the most pleasure. One moment, I was on my side. The next, I sat atop him. The feeling of his eyes on me as I performed for him was unable to be put into any other word but gratitude, that was what flooded me. Gratitude that someone dared love my body, and stake loving claim of it despite the scars that littered my back. Despite the varnish that had worn off of me.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    Our entanglement didn¡¯t end until the late night bell rang for prayer, Jidhaal¡ªthough our acts were unholy considering my still-very-real wedding contract with Shahin, I felt nothing short of blessed by the time he was pleased. I didn¡¯t want him to leave between my hips, knowing I¡¯d feel so empty without him there. He kissed my neck in soft pecks, before reaching my lips and crashing into them with lazy affection in its purest sense. There was the clumsiness, the lack of coordination that he once had when we¡¯d known each other before my betrothal. It had manifested differently, now, in a way only I wanted to witness


    Once he disembarked from my body, I let out another moan. He wrapped an arm around me, bringing me to his chest and holding me securely. My hand traced circles around his pecs, as he brought a hand to my hair.


    ¡°Hala¡­¡± he finally said, his honeyed voice coated in stupor.


    ¡°I love you.¡±


    My heart swelled, never hearing such words after an intimate connection. I craned my neck to look at him,


    ¡°I love you,¡± I sighed. ¡°Both as Idris, and as Abyad.¡±


    There was no bristle this time, only his arms wrapping tighter around me as a tired smile painted his lips. He almost looked like he could cry in that moment, our eyes locking as doting affection filled them. I fell asleep, and by the time I¡¯d awoken the next morning¡ªhe was gone.

 Chapter 31: Abyad

    I wanted to lay in Hala¡¯s bed for the rest of my life, with her on top of me. That was the first night¡¯s rest she had in complete peace to my knowledge; not so much as moving from my chest. The pain that bridled my soul when I had to slide out from beneath her was inexplicable, and it wasn¡¯t out of anything but sheer obligation that I redressed and went to my room to freshen up. I had a meeting today that I couldn¡¯t avoid¡ªShahin was coming, and so was the threat of war. If anything went wrong during this encounter, Mahsul would have to take up its swords once more. I wasn¡¯t like Iirshad¡ªI wanted us to strike first, need be. I wasn¡¯t willing to risk any lives, or to lose anyone of importance without a fight. As I washed my face, I heard a familiar voice clearing their throat.


    ¡°Yer glowin¡¯, Lad. Finally release some tension?¡± Br¨°n asked from the far corner of my room.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± I scoffed, patting my face dry. ¡°That dress you found for her was deadly, you know.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t the one to find it. You can thank the Lass that watches over her.¡± Br¨°n snickered.


    I walked to the armoire, pulling out a fresh tunic and pair of pants. I¡¯d don Otlak¡¯s colors today, green and gold, in an act of undeserved appreciation for the ¡®care¡¯ Shahin took in properly burying Hala¡ªor rather, the glamoured illusion of Hala that Br¨°n switched out with the real Princess. I was still unsure of how he¡¯d managed to create a lifelike double of her, and those three days he¡¯d spent at the palace were left entirely unaddressed. When I asked Br¨°n about it, he¡¯d only met me with a smile and told me Shahin nearly went insane when he¡¯d found her.


    ¡°The maiden?¡± I asked from behind the room divider, changing my clothing. ¡°Zaima?¡±


    ¡°Aye. The young ¡®uns have good taste in clothing, nowadays.¡±


    I¡¯d have to ask Zaima where she¡¯d found such garments, and chastise her for rummaging through old wardrobes when I found her again. Of course, I¡¯d offer her some kind of ¡®thank you¡¯ for the act, as well. Such a sight truly was one for history books. A woman like Hala could start wars¡ªand I was hoping we¡¯d avoid that after this meeting.


    ¡°Didja tell her?¡± Br¨°n asked.


    ¡°About what?¡± I answered his question with a question of my own.


    ¡°About that Duke comin¡¯?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I replied casually.


    Br¨°n eyed me with dissatisfaction as I walked out from the room divider. If he were the King of this land, he may have had my right hand cut off for treachery judging by the look he gave me.


    ¡°Ya should¡¯ve told ¡®er.¡± He said, his voice deep and authoritative.


    ¡°And risk her losing her mind? I think not.¡± I replied.


    Br¨°n let out something close to a growl before speaking again.


    ¡°I told you that what happens between you ¡®n the Lass is dictated by how ya make yer decisions. I know she tried ta get it outta you last night. Yer gonna put ¡®er through more anguish by keepin¡¯ her in the dark.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never been wrong in my judgements.¡± I replied coolly.


    The sound of wind screeching filled my ears, despite the air in the room remaining still.


    ¡°Tread. Lightly.¡± The cacophony of voices flooded me, laughing and wailing. The same voices I¡¯d first encountered in the cave. Br¨°n wasn¡¯t in his human form, he was inches from my face as an apparition¡ªred eyes mere slits as they looked at me menacingly. I felt my blood run cold as I blinked at him, hardly able to make out a full silhouette.


    ¡°I told you, Illuminated One. There¡¯s darkness already planted in you. One wrong step, and you end up as damned as I. You can kiss that pretty little Princess goodbye as you watch her lungs fill with their last breaths¡ªor you can find it in you to live by honesty. Live in such a way, and you¡¯ll be able to choose how you spend your days.¡±


    I drew in a breath, and nodded my head. This was one Hell of a way to start my morning. Living in truth was something that came both easily, and with great difficulty for me at times. I felt like my entire personality, my entire life, was just a lie I¡¯d kept telling myself to make it through each day.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    I sat on a bench in the garden late that morning, replaying the morning¡¯s encounter, as a soldier of ours came towards me at an urgent pace.


    ¡°He¡¯s here.¡± The burly young man said, curls pulled back into a tight bun. His eyes were full of panic, as if he hadn¡¯t seen countless atrocities across the lands. Shahin¡¯s presence must have been akin to a Cursed One when he pulled up to the palace in his carriage.


    I offered an apprehensive smile to him, standing from the bench and cupping his shoulder as I walked by. It was time to see how that bastard played his cards when he wasn¡¯t on the high ground. I smoothed my shirt as I approached the pathway to the Western Wing, making sure my alibis were backed by evidence. The ground around the cobblestone path was still cracked¡ªan indicator of little rain. There was no humidity in the air, and the weather was unusually warm for Mahsul¡¯s late autumn. The soldier who¡¯d come to get me wore ill-fitting armor, just as the others I passed. Maidens and servants wore their more tattered robes. Only myself and a few other high-standing officials were wearing articles in pristine condition, just as planned.


    My boots echoed through the halls as they hit the marble, the gold veins glimmering in the sunlight. Even the flowers that sat atop accent tables were slightly browned. Each detail of our palace was nigh perfect. I eyed the Grand Building from the large, floor to ceiling window. Hala¡¯s room was visible from the distance, an opaque crimson curtain preventing prying eyes from seeing in. I¡¯d asked Zaima to switch the sheer curtain two weeks ago, much to Hala¡¯s dismay, and hoped she¡¯d keep from looking outside of it during the four days Shahin was here. I couldn¡¯t help but feel bad for leaving her earlier¡ªBr¨°n¡¯s words echoed through my mind.


    Was it truly so bad to have not told her about Shahin¡¯s arrival? Should I have admitted to it as she all but kneeled before me on that stool, asking what I was hiding? I had little time to think as I approached the oak door and saw that the soldiers guarding the room also donned green and gold. Otlakian men, rail-thin with mousey brown hair. Their blue-green eyes met mine with solemnity, as if they were the ones responsible for Hala¡¯s death. I¡¯d already put on a mournful expression as I¡¯d entered the West Wing, and I replied to their expression with one of pained appreciation for their presence.


    As I pushed the door open, my eyes met Asad¡¯s. He¡¯d trusted his usual post at Namir¡¯s side to Kharif earlier that morning, unwilling to let me sit alone in the room with the man who sat at the table before me.


    Those carob brown eyes watched me with an unfamiliar air. He didn¡¯t seem to recognize me until I grew closer, when he could examine my features up close. I smiled woefully to him as I took my seat at the other side of the table, where two mediators sat at his side. They were birds for men, with watchful eyes and strong noses. Wiry eyebrows sat atop their sets of blue eyes, their foreheads large and shiny. They could have been twins, but one man had grey peppering his dark brown hair: an indicator of older age, just as the fine lines that were perched between his brows.


    ¡°Idris, freznah krodhat.¡± Shahin said as I settled into my seat. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you in good health. I¡¯m sorry we¡¯re meeting under such conditions¡ªit truly pains me.¡±


    I stifled the bristle. He was negging me, plain and simple. I didn¡¯t dare return the formal greeting, not when he was purposefully using my birth name.


    ¡°And it pains me, as well, Duke Shahin.¡± I replied, making sure I sat just tall enough to emphasize the head and a half of height I had on him, but just small enough to put on a sad and defeated aura.


    He replied to my comment with a soft, hollow smile. The smile that never met his eyes, as they bore into me. He was setting the Chon board in his mind, and I was more than prepared to win the game just as I had all those years ago, when I was 13 and he was 19. In the almost ten years since he¡¯d seen me on Hala¡¯s wedding day, I¡¯d become even more well-calculated. More ahead of the curve. No longer was I the scrawny child who aspired to be like him, I was the brawny young man who was more than capable of pummeling him to the ground¡ªand oh, how I wished I could. I cleared my throat, ridding myself of the violent downfall I was imagining for the Duke.


    ¡°I¡¯ve called upon you on behalf of Al¡¯Namir.¡± I explained. ¡°He and his family¡ªas well as his Kingdom¡ªare devastated by the loss of Al¡¯Hala. Her death under your care is most surprising, considering her hand was given to you in hopes of a comfortable and prosperous life.¡±


    His expression contorted with what I knew was feigned remorse. The mediators at his side were empathetic to him, watching Shahin like he¡¯d split down the center from grief.


    ¡°Her death was unexpected, Idris.¡± He stated. ¡°The decline in her health was quick, and entirely unpredictable. Had I known she would deteriorate so quickly, I would have brought her to see you all as soon as she began showing symptoms.¡±


    His words came out as tight, pained strums from his vocal cords. Two actors, vying for the sympathy of those within that room. That¡¯s what we were. Shahin played his part masterfully, a grief-stricken widower whose wife kept his heart beating; and me, the innocent childhood friend who worked his way up the ranks; all but formally titled as the King¡¯s adopted son.


    ¡°What symptoms did she show?¡± I asked, my voice wavering. ¡°I don¡¯t want another soul lost to such illness.¡±


    Shahin¡¯s eyes flashed with bitter disdain for a moment, masqueraded as upset towards being forced to recount the death of his beloved wife. I swallowed harshly as he spoke again.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°It began as a rash¡­her neck, a ring around her neck. We thought it to be dry skin, considering it to be the dead of winter when it first came.¡± His voice shook, as if pained to weave such lies.


    ¡°Doctors gave her salves to soothe the itching, it worked for a few weeks. She was fine, during that time. Then, she said she thought she¡¯d caught a cold. We¡¯d just hired new maidens, I figured they brought a virus with them from their prior residence¡­¡±


    The Duke spoke just above a whisper, his eyes filled with pain as they remained on the Mahogany table he sat at. He was too damn good at this. The only time I ever saw a hint of emotion in those eyes was when he was putting on an act¡ªa facade¡ªjust like me. The older of the two mediators clicked his tongue as his hand met Shahin¡¯s back.


    ¡°The cough was nothing to fuss over, during its initial presentation. It wasn¡¯t until I heard her wheezing as she coughed that I asked her to stay in bed.¡± A small half-smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. ¡°She refused. Always so eager to help, to do the opposite of what she was asked¡­¡±


    I had to restrain myself, the anger simmering within me.


    Play into the act.


    His smile dulled.


    ¡°She grew weaker as the cough progressed, refusing to eat from the pain her throat experienced. The sores popped up not long after that¡­¡±


    I swallowed harshly again, forcing tears to my eyes. It wasn¡¯t that difficult; the recollection of Hala fighting Namir¡¯s grasp those months ago was a memory I¡¯d purposefully kept in the depths of my mind. The buried image of Namir hiding his own tears, sniffling, as Haya hugged Hala after claiming herself to be tarnished sent my eyes burning.


    ¡°It was horrible.¡± Shahin muttered, his own voice thick with emotion as he brought a hand to the bridge of his nose. His lip quivered ferociously. I wondered what memory he trudged up to bring forth such a display of sadness¡ªpossibly the recollection of losing his favorite plaything to injuries he¡¯d inflicted.


    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine¡­¡± I said, forcing the tears in my eyes to keep from falling. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry.¡±


    ¡°I was unsure of if she could make the trip home, Idris.¡± Shahin croaked, looking at me with chagrined eyes.


    ¡°Which is why I plan on making sure Mahsul gets reparations for her passing¡ªespecially when it wasn¡¯t in her own Kingdom. Especially when her own Father couldn¡¯t lay eyes upon her¡ªhold her hand¡ªas she passed.¡±


    I nodded grimly, loosing a breath. I whispered a prayer¡¯s verse to myself, an exasperated plea for mercy as dramatic effect. Shahin looked at me, picking up on my words. He believed me to be nothing more than a mourning childhood friend, in that moment. A sense of pride and accomplishment washed over me, and I stifled the smile that came with it.


    ¡°Mahsul is facing an economic depression in the face of losing the heir¡­¡± I began, my voice lined with desperation. ¡°Even the land is mourning her loss¡ªwe¡¯ve bore little from our harvests, and our tradesmen cannot find precious minerals when presented with what was found in the mines¡­¡±


    ¡°Your land was once Otlak¡¯s jewel mines¡­¡± Shahin replied with disbelief, his words almost having a bite to them. ¡°You mean to say there hasn¡¯t been any precious minerals within them?¡±


    I shook my head woefully. Shahin eyed me with suspicion.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you laid eyes upon our merchants, Duke Markovni. They panhandle the tourists for what little dhebals they can.¡± I told him, looking him in the eyes.


    ¡°I saw them¡­and I saw the farmers, as well.¡± He replied quietly. ¡°Mahsul is truly suffering¡­¡±


    He almost looked enthralled by the notion.


    ¡°In order for us to ensure we have the food and currency necessary to fuel the next three generations, Al¡¯Namir is asking for a lofty price.¡± I prefaced. ¡°Three bars of platinum, ample silver, and a third of your harvests of meat and vegetables.¡±


    Shahin balked at the request, his eyes shooting to the mediator on his left. The young noble looked at him expectantly, urging him to speak.


    ¡°Three bars of platinum?¡± He echoed, his voice faint. ¡°You can¡¯t possibly be serious, Abyad. Platinum is the most difficult metal to obtain in all the kingdoms¡­¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t jest about such a thing, Duke Shahin. Al¡¯Namir is entrusting you to provide for his people.¡± I pressured. I rested my elbows on the table we sat at, leaning into them.


    ¡°No.¡± Shahin snapped.


    There we go.


    ¡°Three bars is outrageous! Namir is lucky to receive one.¡± His voice was almost the complete opposite as it was before, now filled with clarity and vitriol.


    ¡°Al¡¯Hala¡¯s life is priceless.¡± Asad finally spoke up. I hid the grimace that nearly twisted my face as he used present tense to refer to the Princess. ¡°There is no replacing it.¡±


    ¡°What is the cost of an heir?¡± I added, eyeing Shahin with anticipation.


    Shahin¡¯s eyes traveled from the gargantuan man beside me, back to mine. His bottom lip twitched down, to the right, as he considered my question.


    ¡°Al¡¯Hala was truly a woman of great importance, that much goes without saying¡ªbut there is only so much we as a country can offer.¡± Shahin said, trying to regain his composure.


    ¡°Mahsul is suffering, Lord Shahin.¡± I said, using his earlier words against him. ¡°While our land is fertile, the crops have gotten little water over the last couple of months.¡±


    ¡°A shame.¡± Shahin stated. ¡°But your King must be reasonable in his requests.¡±


    ¡°Reasonable?¡± I let out a breath of laughter, my anger boiling as I remembered the way Hala¡¯s wounds looked that night in the grotto. Remembering the wish she had for the man¡¯s fate.


    ¡°Reasonable would be putting your head on a pike, on display for our entire Kingdom to watch as its flesh rots to bone. That would be reasonable.¡±


    Shahin shrank at the thought, and it filled me with unbridled amusement.


    ¡°She was a fragile woman.¡± He stated coldly. ¡°My head on a pike would do nothing to aid your Kingdom.¡±


    ¡°It would serve as closure to our people, myself and the Royal Family included.¡± I replied smoothly.


    ¡°We are willing to give silver. Platinum is off the table.¡± Shahin spat.


    The mediator to Shahin¡¯s right spoke up, breaking his silence with an eerie voice.


    ¡°Platinum could be allotted in small quantities.¡± He stated, looking from Shahin to Asad and I with a placating expression. I gave the man a grateful expression in return, noting how his fine lines became deeper as he returned his gaze to the Duke.


    ¡°Platinum is off the table.¡± Shahin repeated, looking at the mediator with dismay.


    ¡°I think platinum should be on the table.¡± I said, letting some of the amusement within me poke through. ¡°Speaking as a Strategist, of course, it shows as an act of good faith between the Kingdoms.¡±


    Shahin shot me a furious glare, his temper was so close to hitting its fever pitch¡ªI was looking for conflict. For something to pin him with.


    ¡°If you receive Platinum from Otlak, you will receive nothing more.¡± Shahin said, his eyes narrowing.


    ¡°Duke Markovni,¡± I drawled. ¡°You know that simply isn¡¯t fair. You lost Al¡¯Hala to an unknown illness, leaving us without an heir. Platinum, as well as silver, would be insurance for future generations to come.¡±


    ¡°Three fucking bars of platinum is enough to fuel your economy for five generations!¡± Shahin yelled. He spoke with his hands, now, as he sprang from the chair.


    I covered my mouth with my hand to hide my smile, the mediators looking to me with embarrassment. These two men weren¡¯t here for our sakes¡ªthey were here for their Kingdom¡¯s sake. Seeing Shahin fly off the handle, I realized that Ja¡¯Tavuk had anticipated this. The mediators were here to act as baby sitters for the Duke.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand!¡± He exclaimed. ¡°For what reason would your Kingdom need both silver and platinum?!¡±


    ¡°For our weapons, Shahin.¡± I said, smothering the smile on my lips and removing my hand from my mouth. ¡°Did you not see our guards upon arriving at the gates? Do you not see Asad¡¯s armor? It is worn, and dented!¡± I added, motioning to Asad. He¡¯d worn his training armor to the meeting, with dents along the shoulder plates and a deep scratch on the breastplate. Shahin examined Asad, his eyes lingering on the scratch.


    ¡°You could buy enough armor for ten battalions with a single bar!¡± Shahin replied, his eyes glued to Asad. ¡°Strolgia would froth at the mouth if you received such wealth!¡±


    I took my position back to the table, leaning on my elbows as my eyes narrowed on the Duke¡ªthe title I¡¯d been given by Namir was the most accurate it had ever been in that moment. I sat like a crouched white tiger, who had come upon another apex predator in his territory.


    ¡°It¡¯s up to you, Shahin. Do you swallow your pride and act as a proper representative of Otlak, or risk your nation crumbling to ruin?¡± I threatened.


    He met my gaze again, eyes widened with shock. I knew he wasn¡¯t expecting me to say something to blatant¡ªthreatening ruin meant threatening war. He was intelligent enough to read between the lines. Shahin was also intelligent enough to know that Otlak was in no condition for war; Ja¡¯Tavuk had grown lazy in training his men. Mahsul was a Kingdom known for its warriors. We fought tooth and nail for the land we resided upon, taking it from Otlak and Gundlach ferociously just a generation and a half ago.


    ¡°I¡­¡± he stammered, still standing at his seat. His eyes flickered from me, to Asad, then to his mediators. We were huge compared to them¡ªtwo big cats cornering a hyena and his three-man cackle. They looked at him tersely, knowing better than to side with the Duke.


    ¡°Your men aren¡¯t going to help you, Shahin. They know how valuable Al¡¯Hala¡¯s life was. She was the only person in line to rule Mahsul¡ªand your irresponsibility has put us in a rather difficult situation.¡± I further explained. I kept my body language stiffened, offering little breathing room as my eyes bore into the Duke with a pained, yet daunting expression.


    ¡°Then tell Al¡¯Namir to bear a new heir to the throne!¡± Shahin yelled. ¡°Consorts exist for this very reason! Should your Queen be too old to carry his child¡ªtell him to find a new predecessor!¡± He continued.


    The mediators looked to each other, then to Asad and I. Such words were enough to provoke violence, and they knew that when they met our eyes. It was reflexive, how quickly I stood up and walked to him from my side of the table. My hand met his collar, bringing him inches from my face as the mediators sprang from their own chairs, hands up and begging me to put the Duke down.


    ¡°Say that again, Markovni, and watch how quickly your mouth no longer moves when you try and speak.¡± I snarled, releasing his shirt.


    I could see the color drain from his cheeks as he turned on his heels, storming out of the room. The mediators rushed after him with panicked expressions, their own faces pale as ivory. After they left, I shot Asad an entertained expression.


    ¡°And this is only day one.¡± I smiled.


    Asad kept a neutral expression, but I saw the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. He wanted to chastise me, but he relished the moment just as I did. The sound of the mediators hushed voices as they tried to quell Shahin in Otlank from behind the door filled the silence between us, hardly able to make out anything aside from Shahin¡¯s furious words. He sounded much more bitter when speaking his native tongue¡ªit¡¯s no wonder Hala carried a similar tone when she spoke the language. Being barked at in such a way would harden anyone¡¯s exterior.


    After an eon of the back and forth, the more youthful of the mediators returned to the meeting room. He looked more than tired¡ªhe was utterly exhausted from reeling in Shahin¡¯s temper. Perhaps the two nobles were closer in age than I¡¯d expected¡ªbecause such a feat proved to age the young man five years in the time it took to calm Shahin down.


    ¡°We¡¯ll agree to two bars of platinum; on top of the silver, meats, and produce.¡± He said exasperatedly.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± I said, slipping back into the mournful act I¡¯d worn throughout the meeting. The mediator nodded, before disappearing behind the door once more.

 Chapter 32: Hala

    No matter how Zaima tried to reassure me that I wasn¡¯t the problem, I couldn¡¯t shake the nagging voice that spoke to me from the depths of my mind. Abyad¡¯s sudden disappearance that morning had left me feeling more empty than I¡¯d ever felt before. Nothing could rival that fulfillment, of his arms wrapped around me as that smile met mine. No amount of riches or splendor could give me the same satisfaction of how I felt last night. Only him. Only Abyad.


    ¡°I assure you, Al¡¯Hala. Abyad isn¡¯t upset with you. I saw him headed towards the Western Wing this morning, he was glowing.¡± Zaima said with a doting expression.


    I swallowed heavily, looking at myself in the full-length mirror. Only a single ray of light lit the room from between the still-novel curtains that had been put up. Though the room was aglow, it felt so much darker than usual. Crimson was an interesting choice, as it lit the room in a red haze. The gown I wore was of a similar fashion to the one I¡¯d experimented with last night, Zaima had done more digging since we¡¯d last seen each other, finding as many gowns as possible with the same revealing slit and tight bodice. Its color was a deep shade of gray, sophisticated and elegant. I pursed my lips, wondering if I truly was as beautiful as Abyad claimed. The reflection looking back at me was noteworthy, but I was so used to seeing it by now that I didn¡¯t bat a lash. This body was nothing more than a means to take me from one place to another; but it wasn¡¯t as if I were allowed out of the Grand Building right now.


    Mother was incessant in making sure I stayed in the Grand Building ever since I¡¯d made my display of will power to the sparring grounds. She made it a point for anything I asked for to be brought to me, and Br¨°n was kind enough to fill me in on why no one was allowed to set eyes upon me. I was dead¡ªat least, to the majority of the Kingdom and its people. The neighboring Kingdoms were sent letters from Shahin announcing my death, without consulting Mahsul. When Br¨°n broke such news to me, my heart nearly stopped beating. My existence may as well have been a speck of dust on the shelves of our libraries, it was so short-lived in people¡¯s minds.


    ¡°Al¡¯Hala? Did you hear me?¡± Zaima asked.


    I pulled myself from the memory, returning my eyes to hers in the reflection of the mirror. My head bobbed, and I tore my eyes from the glass.


    ¡°Yes¡­¡± I replied.


    My demeanor had become more like the shade of gray I wore that day; subdued, quiet, brooding. I only felt myself smile once in the last 24 hours, when I¡¯d locked eyes with Abyad last night in bed. The deliberation I¡¯d sat in for the last week brought me to a number of revelations. If I were dead, that meant I wasn¡¯t going to take the throne. I saw that as both a good and bad thing¡ªgood, because there was no longer the pressure to give birth to an heir in my near future. Bad, because¡­that¡¯s rather self-explanatory.


    ¡°You¡¯re not yourself, Hala.¡± Zaima stated, crossing her arms as I sat down in Abyad¡¯s armchair. No matter how hard I tried, my right side never moved precisely as I willed it.


    ¡°It¡¯s hard when the entire world believes me to be dead.¡± I snapped in response.


    Zaima shirked at my words, her shoulders hunching at their harshness. She was too sweet of a girl to be so cruel to.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± I murmured. Her eyes met mine, and she nodded in acceptance of the apology. I was still grieving my body¡¯s condition, and the added disparity of my perceived death only fueled the tension within me.


    The maiden eyed me with a dampened expression, walking to the arm of the chair and hugging me from the side. A young girl, wise beyond her years¡ªmore courageous than I to brave touching me in my disgruntled state. I knew I looked like a lion ready to pounce. Her hand traveled to my hair, fingers meeting my scalp as she brushed through it tenderly.


    ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, Your Highness,¡± Zaima said just audible enough for me to hear. ¡°I think they¡¯ve kept you in the dark for your safety.¡±


    I nodded, my heart sinking with her words. Br¨°n told me the details he didn¡¯t dare share with Abyad, how Shahin nearly lost his mind when he found my body. The way the servants were ordered to incinerate the double, to keep people from seeing the wounds on my back, and use a maiden of similar appearance to take my place for the funeral. He ordered a young girl be shipped from Mahsul, killed using poison, to place in that casket just below the Peonies of our garden. I felt so guilty for the loss of that young woman¡¯s life, but Br¨°n assured me that she was suffering long before her death. If Father and Abyad had been told of this, they may have allowed a declaration of war then and there.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    After Zaima left me to my own devices, I tried to take my mind off of Abyad. I had been cross-stitching until my vision went double, there was little light in the room aside from the lamplight, fueling my frustration. Curse words fell from my lips as I stitched and restitched the same Peony leaf over and over again, disliking the way the thread laid over itself on the Aida. I finally tossed the embroidery hoop to the edge of my bed, frustrated with the whole ordeal as I forced myself to stand. I began to pace like a caged, injured tiger. Maybe this was all a horrible nightmare. Maybe I was actually dead. Maybe Cursed Ones were a falsity, and I¡¯d slipped out of consciousness during a torture session long enough to imagine the last eight months back home. Maybe¡­


    I locked eyes with my own reflection mid-limp. The vanity mirror showed my body from the hips up, cutting off my head from view. I caught the sight of my full chest, while my hand roved the indentation of my waist to my stomach. Turning to the side, I eyed the small pouch of fat that I¡¯d gained. Maybe I¡¯d wake up and it¡¯d be gone. Maybe I¡¯d wake up and find myself a teenager in Shahin¡¯s palace once more; helping Uyum and Melodi fold towels and dust the shelves of the library; helping Madam Denge cook Ghirson meat balls. My hand moved from the pouch of fat, to the small of my back. Maybe¡­


    Maybe I¡¯d wake up in Shahin¡¯s arms after I¡¯d been loved so brutally my wrists were dappled with water-colored bruises, his eyes fluttering open as he smiled at me. Maybe those hands would press into my hips, gripping me and tugging them closer in a plea to hike my leg up over his. Maybe he¡¯d love me again when I woke up from this awful nightmare, where a Child of Calamity had brought me home and let another girl take my place in that casket. Maybe¡­


    ¡°Hala?¡± Smooth as the butter Madame Denge used in her dishes, Abyad¡¯s voice filled my ears. My head whipped around in a panic, tears I hadn¡¯t even noticed falling from my eyes. I wiped them away, swallowing the lump that had tangled itself in my throat. The suffocating shadows of the room seemed to lighten as he closed the door behind him, the orange light of the lamps adding a mesmerizing haze to his blue eyes.


    ¡°Where have you been?¡± I asked quietly, my voice hollow. Distant.


    ¡°I had a meeting, why are you crying?¡± His voice raised in pitch as he walked to me, urgency in each graceful step. His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me to him. My hand met Abyad¡¯s chest, preventing him from pulling me into a full hug.


    ¡°I was¡­just remembering things. That¡¯s all.¡± I lied. I couldn¡¯t tell him I was fantasizing about the days when Shahin was the one taking me to a bed, peeling clothing off of me between harsh kisses. Abyad¡¯s right hand moved up to my shoulder blade, warm and large, while his left lingered on my waist.


    ¡°What did you remember?¡± He asked, his eyes narrowing as his face corded into a ghost of a grimace.


    I remembered the idea of love I¡¯d been accustomed to. I remembered how my body was before I woke up half a year past my 18th birthday. I remembered the time before the torture, those three years spent being fortified into a false sense of security¡ªwhen the light in my eyes was still fueled by excitement for life and hope for the future. The fading sunlight danced off of his features, the concerned expression deepening as I kept all of those words to myself.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°How cruel time has been.¡± I put it shortly.


    Abyad¡¯s Adam¡¯s apple bobbed at my response, his brows furrowed in a disheartened manner. He forced me to his chest, head sitting atop mine as he drew in a shaky breath.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± He said weakly. ¡°This will all be over soon, Themaz.¡±


    His words were hard to accept. I wanted to go outside so badly, to see the Kingdom I called home. Staying in this room was what had kept me caged within my mind, haunted by such memories. I wanted to feel the breeze against my face; smell the brine as it grew stronger upon stepping to the shore. I missed freedom. I hadn¡¯t truly been free since I was a teenager, sneaking into the brothel and meeting Madam Tayir. Her words were what I¡¯d used when asking Abyad if he was the man who truly loved me. The events of last night felt like a blur by now.


    ¡°Abyad¡­¡± I finally peeped. ¡°I want to go somewhere. I want to see Mahsul¡¯s streets again.¡±


    He let out a breath, and I knew what he was thinking. He didn¡¯t want to sound like Shahin. He didn¡¯t want me to stay locked in this room for another nine years, unable to explore and quench the wanderlust that flowed so freely through my veins. I was wild at heart, despite the things I¡¯d been put through. My eyes wanted to feast upon new sights, and he was apprehensive of how to do it. Abyad drew in a breath.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take you somewhere.¡± He said softly.


    As his grip loosened from around me, I looked up at him. He wore a mischievous smile, as if he¡¯d already concocted a plan for us. Once he let go of me, he walked to the door shooting me one final glance.


    ¡°Be ready in ten minutes.¡± He said. ¡°And don¡¯t wear anything¡­like that.¡±


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Ten minutes later, I donned a more traditional, robe sitting at my vanity and pinning the headscarf I wore to cover my hair and face. I looked like a pious noblewoman, covered head to toe save for my eyes and eyebrows. Just as Abyad said, he knocked on the door right on time. When I gave him the okay to come in, he revealed his own disguise. Such a man couldn¡¯t get away with a simple change of clothing, he was too handsome. Instead of dressing down, he¡¯d dressed up¡ªprobably knowing I¡¯d have to put on something only the richer of nobility would be able to afford to hide my identity.


    ¡°Where did you find those clothes?¡± I asked him, eyeing the white and gold jacket he wore.


    ¡°An old outfit from a Social further east¡­they see the events as displays of wealth.¡± He scoffed, brushing an invisible fleck of dust from the right sleeve.


    ¡°Yer lucky I¡¯m bored¡¯a the Western Wing.¡± Br¨°n interrupted, materializing from the desk¡¯s shadow. ¡°I ain¡¯t doin¡¯ this for ya again.¡±


    I looked at Abyad with bemusement, and he shot daggers to Br¨°n. What was in the Western Wing? I wanted to ask the question, but we were shrouded in darkness before I could open my mouth. I had forgotten how comforting the darkness was, how the smell of hazel was still present despite my lack of a visible nose. The sound of crickets and owls filled my ears, the wind swooshing softly as we traversed shadows. We materialized moments later, in the back alley of a town at least two days¡¯ travel away. Br¨°n looked at me softly, before hardening his expression when looking at Abyad.


    ¡°You tell her, or you can walk back yerself.¡± He chuffed, before disappearing into the shadows once more.


    I raised an eyebrow, but Abyad ignored it and took my arm into his. The bustle of the city was enough to send my senses into overload, a dense crowd walking lanterned streets. Mahsulians donned their finer clothing, women of all statuses wearing headscarves. I blended in wonderfully, save for the difference in the quality of fabrics. Most of the men wore common festive garbs, save for men who could easily be pinned as nobles. It hit me in that moment: this was the last day of Jidhaq. My eyes met Abyad¡¯s, and he smiled.


    ¡°You made such a request just in time to see the celebration.¡± He said.


    My heart swole¡ªmaybe timing wasn¡¯t always so cruel. The smell of spices and baked goods made its way through the Unghol I wore, filling my nostrils. My stomach growled in response, making Abyad chuckle as he guided me to a stall. The man in charge smiled at Abyad, keeping his eyes off of me out of respect as he prepared two kebabs of fish meat. My free hand took the kebab as my eyes wandered the crowd. The women of Mahsul truly were beautiful, with thick eyebrows and an array of complexions. We always trended muscular and full-figured, save for the occasional lithe and sinewy woman who¡¯d started their fasting a bit too early. My hand went under the Unghol, putting the fish kebab to my mouth as I took a small bite.


    ¡°Why this city?¡± I asked. ¡°Why didn¡¯t we just walk around Main Mahsul?¡±


    Abyad sighed, walking me towards a building¡¯s wall. The dark grey bricks of concrete had been stacked in a checkered pattern with light grey bricks. He tugged my hand as he leaned into the wall, his eyes glued to his surroundings. As the fish traveled down my esophagus, I willed it to stay in my stomach.


    ¡°This city isn¡¯t seen on the way to Otlak.¡± Abyad said. ¡°The citizens are allowed to take part in Ghaldhi tonight.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow, unsure as to why all of our cities couldn¡¯t celebrate the last night of Jidhaq with Ghaldhi. Abyad¡¯s eyes met mine, filling with pained revery. He had horrible news to tell me, and my entire body began locking up as if predicting his words from his expression alone.


    ¡°Shahin is in Mahsul. In the Western Wing of the palace. He¡¯s here to discuss reparations for your supposed death.¡±


    I dropped the kebab, hardly a quarter of the way eaten. A waste of food. The bit of it that had managed to make it to my stomach came up, and I had to round the corner of the building to make it to a trash bin. The Unghol flew up just in time as I retched, and retched, until my stomach couldn¡¯t bring food up any longer. I imagined Shahin crouching down as I laid restrained to that oak table, eyeing me with glee as I bled out before him.


    Pathetic. His voice echoed.


    Pitiful.


    Disgusting.


    I couldn¡¯t stop the dry heaving, even as I felt Abyad¡¯s warm hand on my back stroking me gently.


    ¡°He¡¯ll be gone in three days, Hala. You won¡¯t cross paths with him¡ªso long as you don¡¯t leave your room. I have a plan, and if it all goes well: Otlak will fall from within.¡±


    Abyad¡¯s voice was so distant, even though he was right beside me. It sounded like I was under water, hearing him speak.


    ¡°Why¡­?¡± I asked. The words came without me even thinking about them, garbled between heaves. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me this earlier?¡±


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t risk you falling back into how you were when you first got home, Hala¡ªlook at you, now, Jumme Inaa, I know¡­I know now that it was wrong to keep it from you. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    I had to breathe. In and out. The air sputtered in my lungs as waves of cold blood pulsed down my legs. He had a point¡ªhearing that Shahin was within walking distance of me was enough to make me feel suffocated; not just by the long and heavy fabric I wore, but by my own skin. My head fell to the side of the trash bin, its cool metal sobering me as my chest burned from the food that had come up, and the pure rage that was now boiling within me.


    ¡°I want to go home.¡±


    No, I didn¡¯t.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± He asked, I hesitated.


    ¡°Yes.¡± I finally said.


    I was so weak as Abyad helped me back towards the same alleyway we came from. I¡¯d never been more glad to don a headscarf. I wasn¡¯t as religious as my parents, I¡¯d never wanted to be¡ªespecially not after my nine years in Otlak. What cruel God would force a person through such atrocities? But in that moment, I was thanking whoever wove fate that I¡¯d chosen to wear that head covering.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Br¨°n took one look at me and knew I¡¯d been informed of Shahin¡¯s presence back home, taking me by the shoulders and pulling me in for a side hug. The men exchanged looks before we disappeared into the shadows¡ªAbyad¡¯s face was lined with guilt, while Br¨°n wore an expression that said ¡®I told you so.¡¯ Br¨°n brought us back to my room faster than we¡¯d left, the winds whistling violently as we traveled.


    Once we materialized in my room, I ripped the head covering off. Br¨°n disappeared with Idris behind the door, his shoulders hunched in a way I hadn¡¯t seen since our childhood. I peeled off the rest of my garb, switching into a night robe and plopping into my bed with a soft thump. Their voices could be heard behind my door, uncaring as to if their argument could be heard. My body was begging for rest, after the sensory overload of the city and the news that had been broken. I wished I could sleep for four days straight, just as I did my first week home.

 Author’s Note

    Hey! I wanted to dedicate a quick chapter to you guys¡ªthank you for supporting my writing endeavors and following this story. It means the world to me that within a week of publishing chapter 1, it¡¯s already gained a small following. It¡¯s just the five of us for now, but that¡¯s still enough to make me smile. Even when I saw this story¡¯s first follower, I grinned like a madman.


    I ended up reworking some things, so the next few updates will be trickled along. I do want to let you all know, though, that there will probably be a long hiatus between book one and book two¡¯s release. Just as quickly as I came, I¡¯ll be gone. It takes me a while to get a rough outline done of a book, and then a little longer to chop and edit it into a more finalized version.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    This community truly is amazing, and I¡¯m anticipating the oncoming feedback and interaction I¡¯ll get to have with these next chapters¡¯ postings. I threw my all into writing this book, especially when it came to creating organic interactions between the characters and the world they live in. I¡¯m so happy to see people appreciating that enough to follow the series.


    Unfortunately, I am sick right now. That also means I¡¯m a bit loopy, so everything I write will end up being rewritten once I get better. There¡¯s always an obstacle to overcome, it seems. On a positive note: I have a work in progress about all the characters you all have met so far, describing them and their personality. I can¡¯t just copy/paste from my character sheet, since many attributes have evolved or changed as time went on. I also plan on using that as a chance to describe the Kingdoms a bit more. As for the Cursed Ones, and what they¡¯re all about: Book Two will be cracking that wide open.


    Thanks again for your continued support, sending virtual hugs or high fives!


    Xx


    Alexandra Richardson

 Chapter 33: Abyad

    Something was off about Shahin. He was much too calm, the two days after he¡¯d blown up at us over our offer that we came to settle upon. I sat across from him at that same table on the third day of negotiation, watching as he put on the act of a grief-stricken widower so flawlessly. I hated him, with every ounce of my being I loathed the Duke. He agreed to a number of other settlements¡ªpromising to speak kindly of our nation in the coming months once he¡¯d left. The last day he negotiated with us, he made a request that took me by surprise.


    ¡°May I see her room¡­?¡± Shahin asked with feigned earnest. ¡°I haven¡¯t a single reminder of her, the servants threw away all of her old belongings not long after she passed. Something about bad memories¡­¡±If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    I couldn¡¯t tell him ¡®no,¡¯ but I could strongly urge him against it.


    ¡°Lord Shahin, I highly recommend against it.¡± I said gently. ¡°Al¡¯Hala¡¯s room is strictly off limits to anyone but her blood.¡±


    ¡°I was her husband, Abyad.¡± He replied, his eyes filling with woe. That bastard. His mediators looked to me pleadingly, more than tired of quelling the man¡¯s upset. I hesitated for a long while, rubbing my face with my hands and trying to pretend that the notion pained me. He was cornering me into no other option, as I felt his eyes burning into me. Bastard.


    ¡°Fine¡­¡± I muttered, giving my eyes one last rub. I hoped Br¨°n had been snooping in the shadows. Maybe he could do something to keep our act in place.

 Chapter 34: Hala

    Light pooled in from the crimson curtains, illuminating the room in a reddish hue as I sat down at my vanity, still half asleep and coming my hair. Zaima was supposed to be coming soon to fetch me my gown for the day and tell me a bath had been drawn. I was going to spend my days as I had grown accustomed the last several months: reading, learning Jagan from Br¨°n, and cross stitching. Just as I put my comb down, the smell of hazel filled my lungs so heavily I thought I¡¯d choke. I saw nothing. My body felt nothing. But I heard everything.


    Five sets of footsteps approached my door before it opened. The creak of the hinges was unsettling as my room was raided. A sigh of relief could be heard, masked as a sigh of upset. The familiar smell of Agar wood. Abyad.


    ¡°We don¡¯t allow people in here. Her room is in the same state as it was on her wedding day.¡± Abyad said to the other people in the room.


    One of the sets of footsteps was lighter than the others, coming closer to the vanity. A familiar musk filled my senses, before a voice of honeyed venom replied to Abyad.


    ¡°The room hasn¡¯t been touched since that day?¡±


    If I had been capable of shaking, I would have been in such ferocious shudders that I¡¯d have fallen over. I¡¯d have been so mortified when I¡¯d heard that voice that I would have started screaming at the top of my lungs. Maybe I actually would have fought back this time when faced with my abuser. But I was hidden. I was safe.


    ¡°No, Duke Markovni.¡± Abyad replied. Disdain flooded the darkness.


    ¡°Amazing.¡± Shahin murmured as his steps faded. My bed. He was in front of my bed.


    I could feel the anticipation oozing from the others in the room, as silence sat in the air. I felt everything that everyone felt¡ªeveryone but Shahin.


    ¡°How I miss my Song Bird¡­¡± Shahin murmured.


    Liar.


    ¡°What the Hell is he doing in here?¡± I asked Br¨°n, my voice quieter than I¡¯d imagined.


    ¡°The Duke forced him, Dear.¡± Br¨°n¡¯s voices crooned and cried. The term of endearment threw me off¡ªhe wasn¡¯t his usual jovial self in the shadows.


    ¡°Why won¡¯t he get¡ª¡°


    ¡°Quiet.¡± The voices demanded as footsteps approached the vanity again.


    Could he hear us?


    I heard something move from the vanity. Shahin¡¯s footsteps shifted towards the door. Heavy footsteps scuffed against the marble in response¡ªI assumed them to be Abyad¡¯s.


    ¡°Can I keep this?¡±


    Keep what?


    ¡°She had a similar one back in Otlak¡­the maidens threw it away.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Lord Shahin. If Al¡¯Haya finds it gone¡­that comb was very important to Al¡¯Hala¡­¡± Abyad stammered.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see to it that one of its likeness is delivered. I just¡­I want something to remind me of her so desperately¡­¡± Shahin said.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take your word.¡± His voice was so quiet and defeated, so sad. I hadn¡¯t heard such a cadence from Abyad since his voice broke in the grotto. He didn¡¯t want to give Shahin whatever it was he¡¯d picked up.


    ¡°That is as much as I¡¯m willing to let you look in here. We¡¯re leaving.¡± He stated firmly.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Thank you, Idris.¡± Shahin said.


    I could hear Shahin¡¯s smile¡ªthat same smile that would appear as he looked me in the eyes after slicing into me. Pure amusement towards others¡¯ suffering. I didnt need Br¨°n¡¯s power to know what that man was feeling. He was just like a Cursed One¡ªno, he was worse. Even Br¨°n wouldn¡¯t do something like that and find enjoyment in it.


    Shahin¡¯s footsteps walked towards the door, and the other four sets joined his as they dissipated into the hallway. The door closed with a softer click than usual¡ªas if apologizing to me. Br¨°n fed me something else with that click, a deep sense of defeat and woe.


    Once Br¨°n materialized me back onto the stool, I scoured the vanity¡¯s objects in search of whatever Shahin had taken. All of my perfumes were in place, bows neatly secured around their nozzles; hair ornaments were all stowed away in their proper boxes; brooches, still in their drawers. Everything was there except¡­a comb. The comb Abyad had given me back when he was still Idris. Gangly, small, Idris who could hardly hold himself up on his own two feet with grace. It had Mother¡¯s favorite flower on it. The comb I had just been using to rake through my hair had vanished¡ªand that sadist of a Duke had taken it.


    ¡°He didn¡¯t want to let ¡®im in.¡± Br¨°n said, ripping me from my train of thought.


    ¡°I know¡­¡± I murmured, staring at the spot where the comb once sat. ¡°Thank you¡­for hiding me.¡±


    ¡°Aye.¡± Br¨°n replied, his own voice tight with apprehension. He knew I was a whirlwind of emotions. Materializing had brought all of them washing over me.


    I felt so violated in that moment¡ªeven more than when Shahin had breached my body as I was restrained to that table. Even more than the first time he¡¯d shredded my back to ribbons. I was enraged, mortified, scared¡­but I also felt something disturbing: saudade. A twisted part of me wished I had faced my husband. I wanted to see his eyes as they met mine; as a smile graced those beautiful, cupid-bowed lips, as he called me my pet name. The part of me that wanted that scared me, and Br¨°n saw it¡ªfelt it.


    ¡°It¡¯s Captive Syndrome.¡± He said to me, crossing his arms as a ghost of a grimace lined his face. Our eyes met in the reflection of my vanity. I watched as he took in the expression I wore.


    ¡°It ain¡¯t unusual for people ta still love the ones who hurt ¡®em.¡± He added.


    I nodded, trying to understand the complexities of the emotions I struggled with. Br¨°n had a point. I¡¯d spent three years in bliss with Shahin, but he¡¯d stolen more than my favorite comb from me. He¡¯d taken my trust; my hope in those around me; my desire to fight. No longer was I the girl who¡¯d lay on the roof surrounded by lunar moths, admiring the moon with hope; I was now a woman who looked to the stars and begged them for a sign to continue living. I looked at myself in the mirror and let out a soft sigh, no longer seeing the girl I once was. I saw a cold, jaded woman looking back at me. At least I wasn¡¯t so sickly-looking anymore.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    I was told Shahin left not too long after he¡¯d raided my room. Relief washed over me when Zaima delivered the news, preparing me to go see Abyad, Mother, and Father for dinner in my parents¡¯ quarters. A small celebration, between the four of us, to enjoy the splendor we¡¯d swindled out of Otlak. I wasn¡¯t feeling very festive, though, even as Zaima dressed me in a fanciful modest gown, and fashioned my waves into a braid to wear in front of my parents. My chest felt hollow, and the anxiety that riddled my stomach made me detest the idea of food. Zaima continued to prepare me, adding soft blusher to my cheeks and a light shadow to my eyelids. She was truly gifted with makeup, much more than I could dream to be. I had told her several times to go work for Madam Tayir in her free time, and she scoffed at the notion.


    ¡°Madam Tayir¡¯s is highly exclusive, you know.¡± She stated. ¡°They wouldn¡¯t allow me to do their ladies¡¯ makeup. I¡¯m much too homely.¡±


    She was modest, is what she was. Zaima was a beautiful girl, I¡¯d almost pity the man she ended up marrying. He¡¯d have to stave off countless others to get to her¡ªeyes of mahogany, hair like tightly coiled ribbons, and skin of honey brown. She was every Mahsulian woman¡¯s muse, right down to her petite, lithe figure that exuded modesty in how she carried herself.


    ¡°Are you ready?¡± Zaima asked, smiling at me excitedly. I nodded half-heartedly, as she beckoned me to turn around.


    I looked nice. I wasn¡¯t anything special, though, as I took in my features. The same woman I¡¯d met the eyes of earlier that day stared back at me: empty and full-figured, even when drowning in the fabric of my robe. I sighed internally, looking up at Zaima in a way that must have been pitiful.


    ¡°You don¡¯t like it? I can¡ª¡°


    ¡°No, no.¡± I interjected. ¡°I look lovely, Zaima, thank you.¡±


    Zaima pursed her lips and nodded, before a small smile graced her lips.


    ¡°You¡¯re truly the Gem of Mahsul, M¡¯Lady. Just like your mother.¡± She complimented.


    I gave a soft thanks to her before she helped me stand. There were still times my muscles refused to fully beckon to my requests, and I hated that with every fiber in my being. Zaima helped me to the door before I insisted I could handle myself. She was such a good maiden to me, and at the time my closest friend. Age wasn¡¯t a wedge between us, rather a means for our bond to grow stronger whenever she asked me for menial kernels of knowledge.

 Chapter 35: Hala

    My parents¡¯ chambers were oddly cold, that night. While Shahin had left, the chill he¡¯d brought with him lingered. Late fall in Mahsul was never this cold. I looked around the chambers, taking in its familiar surroundings. My Father donned fanciful clothing as he stood from the head of the table; a white tunic with orange and gold accents must have been specifically made for him to wear¡ªhe usually wore less gaudy clothing that fit him loosely. The pants he wore: pure black. He approached me with a big hug, tight enough to make all of the air escape my lungs. I wondered if I could ever be as strong as him, physically or mentally. Over his shoulder, I saw Mother.


    My mother sat in their dining room in a champagne colored robe, similar in style to mine. How she loved muted colors, I thought. Her beauty always captivated me; with such features that mine paled in comparison to. Mother had been blessed with a less intense jawline than mine, though still prominent. Her cheekbones were always so chiseled, making her look serious at all times¡ªwhich was probably part of what made her such a guiding light for our Kingdom. Our people needed someone as intense as Father to be their Queen: but more modest, in comparison to his hotheadedness. Her gleaming hair sat neatly on her head, twisted back and away from her face. I looked at her affectionately when our eyes met. She truly was my rock. Beside her, sat the only man capable of sending my heart beating out of my chest.


    Abyad wore a similar tunic as my Father, hand-tailored to fit him beautifully. The amber light from the fireplace danced off of his eyes, resembling our waters at sunset. I was awestruck as Father set me down, hardly able to keep myself upright on my own two feet. He was more strapping than usual in this light, with his curls reflecting each flicker of the flames. He smiled meekly at me, as if he hand¡¯t just managed to dupe Otlak out of enough money to beget their entire Kingdom.


    ¡°Sit down, Mitalah.¡± Father beckoned me over to the wide table, already laden with enough food to make me sick by the sight alone.


    I obliged his request, sitting across from Abyad and looking down at the empty plate before me. Mother began serving the food, each spoonful that hit the plates made my stomach churn. It wasn¡¯t just the food making me so ill, I was disgusted that we¡¯d managed to trick Shahin into thinking I was dead¡ªutterly revolted by remembering how he¡¯d taken the comb gifted to me as a child. The smell of the meat and vegetables in front of me wasn¡¯t enticing, it was nauseating.


    Father poured each of us wine, and I took my cup graciously. Abyad eyed me with concern, and I wished we could speak telepathically. Once we broke eye contact, I noticed a fifth plate that had been prepared. It sat beside me, closest to Father. As if on cue, Br¨°n manifested from the shadows behind Mother.


    ¡°Sorry I¡¯m late.¡± He grinned. ¡°Had a few things ta tend to.¡±


    My mother almost yelped out in shock, hearing his voice from behind her. Such a reaction elicited a chuckle from Br¨°n as he sauntered around to my side of the table and took his seat. Father offered a slightly miffed smile, as Abyad spoke up.


    ¡°Another one?¡± Abyad asked. Br¨°n looked at him as he brought his chair closer to the table and nodded.


    ¡°Aye.¡± He said before picking up the fork beside his plate and taking a bite of food. He ate it as if he were truly hungry. As if he were capable of mortal hunger.


    I looked from Abyad to Br¨°n, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Another what?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Nothin¡¯ ta worry about.¡± Br¨°n said, shooting me a sidelong glance. Father cleared his throat and smiled.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad we could all finally sit and enjoy each others¡¯ company.¡± Mother said, speaking on his behalf.


    ¡°As am I.¡± Father said.


    We sat in an awkward silence for a while until Father began to go back and forth with Br¨°n. The two poked jest at each other over different opinions of Otlak, and whether they were truly worthy of keeping as an ally.


    ¡°With what¡¯s been happenin¡¯ lately, I¡¯d snub ¡®em.¡± Br¨°n said.


    ¡°I still think we could gain something from them.¡± Father replied. ¡°Their libraries rival Zarvan¡¯s.¡±


    Br¨°n smirked deviously.


    ¡°Anythin¡¯ their libraries got, I got in here.¡± He said, tapping his temple with his index finger.


    Father sighed, and Abyad finally interjected.


    ¡°I think we should keep them as allies, for nothing else than to get good grace with the other kingdoms.¡±


    Father nodded, cutting a sidelong glance to Br¨°n.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    ¡°He¡¯s right. Otlak has good relations with Jagan. We could use that, considering Muhtal has soured our relations with their tradesmen.¡±


    The mention of Fatiha¡¯s father made my ears perk up, I hadn¡¯t seen her in almost ten years.


    ¡°How is Fatiha doing?¡± I asked, cutting in.


    ¡°She¡¯s well, Mitalah¡± Father replied with a soft smile. ¡°She married that fellow¡­Murabiy, was it?¡± He asked, looking to Mother.


    Mother nodded, her face as serious as always. ¡°They have a son and a newborn daughter now.¡±


    My heart fluttered as I imagined Fatiha with children, envisioning her smiling at them as sweetly as she used to smile at me. I looked from Father to Mother, my eyes alight with curiosity.


    ¡°Can they come visit?¡± I asked, my voice filled with anticipation.


    ¡°We can certainly see about it.¡± Father said. ¡°Perhaps I¡¯ll invite them to a dinner one night.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t stop the smile that his response brought to my face. My beloved Fatiha, standing before me again as a mother. The very idea made my head hum.


    ¡°Eat some of your food.¡± Abyad chided, his eyes cutting into me. I rolled my eyes and took an overdramatic forkful of food, shoving it into my mouth with a scowl. His expression softened as he chuckled, and took a bite of his own food.


    We continued eating, and Father continued drinking. The crackling of the fireplace made me all the more reluctant to eat, each pop sending a small shudder down my spine. Each crack made me think of the loud smack that had resounded through the room back in Otlak. Abyad must have been able to sense the unease within me, because he gave my foot a small kick from under the table. With my train of thought broken, I looked to him. He offered me a concerned look, and I returned it with one that insisted I was alright.


    Father had gotten a rosy flush to his cheeks when he¡¯d challenged Br¨°n to an arm wrestling contest. Abyad brought his hand to his temple, massaging it lightly as Br¨°n laughed.


    ¡°I ain¡¯t built for that kinda thing.¡± Br¨°n refused.


    ¡°You¡¯re no fun, Br¨°n.¡± Father pouted.


    ¡°I ain¡¯t meant to be fun.¡± He retorted.


    The small exchange made me smile faintly. After Abyad also refused to engage in an arm wresting contest, Father¡¯s eyes darted around the room in search of something to do. Finally, his eyes fell unto his sword. A grin broke from his lips, as he returned his gaze to me.


    ¡°Hala.¡± He said, smile in tact.


    ¡°Yes, Father?¡± I asked.


    ¡°If you¡¯re going to lead this Kingdom someday, you¡¯ll be expected to wield that sword over there. Show me. I¡¯d like to see how you¡¯ve progressed in healing¡ªI¡¯ve heard good things.¡±


    The very notion made my blood run cold. That sword was longer than my torso, and heavier than anything I¡¯d lifted in the last nine months. I swallowed harshly, with all eyes in the room on me. Watching. Waiting. Expecting me to oblige my Father¡¯s request.


    Rising shakily to my feet, Father watched me with a proud smile. He was far too drunk. Mother could tell as much. Her eyes went from me to Father.


    ¡°Themaz, is this a good idea?¡± She asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see why not!¡± He chuffed with his arms crossed expectantly. Abyad¡¯s eyes peeled from me and to Father. They lingered on him for a moment before he scratched his nose and spoke up as well.


    ¡°Namir, maybe after a few more months¡­she¡¯s just now able to feed herself with one hand¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Abyad.¡± I interjected with an edge. I wasn¡¯t going to let Father down. I wanted to appease him¡ªto prove my worth. The fact that he still anticipated me taking to the throne, eventually, was almost astonishing.


    ¡°Hala¡ª¡± Abyad began.


    ¡°I said it¡¯s fine.¡± I insisted, smiling weakly at him.


    Each step from that table towards the sword that sat on its rack was mortifying. I would have prolonged if Father wasn¡¯t an impatient enough man while sober. My back grew stiff as I inched towards it, the gold embellishments on the sheath reflecting the fire from the other end of the room.


    Pop.


    Slap.


    I willed myself closer and closer, my left hand finally meeting the grip as I put some strength into taking it down from its resting place. The four sets of eyes watching me with baited breath seared into my skull, making my hands grow clammy. My right hand clumsily met the other end of the sword, wrapping around the sheath and tightening its grasp. Each inch up, up, up, made my back stiffer and stiffer.


    Pop.


    Weak,


    Pathetic.


    Shaking my head to rid myself of that man¡¯s voice, I¡¯d managed to lift it from the rack. Just high enough to free it from the prongs that it sat upon. Just high enough for everyone to hold their breath and anticipate me actually doing it. Just high enough to possibly defy the odds¡ªwhen a cramp shot up from the right side of my back from that damned scar, making the sword slip from between my hands. I sucked in a hiss of air as the sword clattered to the ground, hitting my foot. My body crumbled, cursing under my breath as I heard Mother gasp. I could imagine her look of disappointment, as well as how Father¡¯s face probably fell as soon as his sword hit the ground. It took everything in me to keep from letting the tears welling in my eyes fall. To not ruin the makeup Zaima had so carefully applied to my face.I felt so ashamed, so weak and¡­


    Pop.


    Useless.


    Shahin¡¯s voice rippled through my mind as I stared at the floor. I felt a warm hand at my back as I stood, Father looked down at me with a saddened expression, almost remorseful.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Mitalah.¡± He whispered, reaching from behind me to pick his sword up in his left hand. He was able to lift it so easily, and with one hand. I was almost enraged.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright, Father.¡± I said, swallowing the anger welling within me.