Chapter 10
The Sultan
I yearned for you when you did not come.
And in needing you, I have destroyed myself.
She thought it amusing at first. The hardworking people around her ensured that her every need was met.
Whilst simultaneously ignoring her very existence.
They cleaned her quarters, presented the most delicious food and provided the best of clothing.
Yet, they did not speak a word to her. Of course, their stares and whispers did not go unnoticed.
The bride of the prince, and the prince had yet to make an appearance.
Usman had been missing for many days. At times, Laila even believed that he had forgotten her in the vastness of the palace,
Still, in the darkness of a sleepless night, his words filled her mind.
"I could no longer stay away..."
.
As though the distance between them was painful.
As though to be apart was to watch the world burn.
.
Perhaps he thought of her too?
Perhaps.
She shook her head, forcing the thoughts of him to disappear. Her presence here was evidence of his crimes; she could not forget what he had done.
Laila paced around her room, a place which seemed so big only a few days ago now seemed as small as the prisons of Al-Shujae.
"Laila."
Before the names left his lips, her heart stopped.
Usman.
She turned quickly, only hesitating when realising she wore a simple white dress and her hair was open and unkempt.
How humiliating.
Her eyes went to the ground, "Usman" she greeted, silently.
Usman bit his tongue, taking in his wife after days of distance.
It had been suffocating.
He had thought that in the palace he could leave her to attend to herself, but his mind could not focus on anything other than the woman before him.
What was happening to him?
"I hope you are well," he blinked, attempting to sound formal.
Her wavy hair flowed perfectly down her shoulders, shining golden from the sunlight which filled the room. Clothed in an elegant, white dress, her eyes were on the ground till she slowly raised her head and looked towards him.
"I am."
Usman felt his heart race.
The separation between them had changed things in the worst way.
He breathed in, her sweet vanilla scent surrounding him, making it impossible to think.
"The sultan wishes to see you today," he finally said after a pause, watching as her eyes slightly widened.
"Me?" She whispered.
It was inevitable, yet she did not think of it so soon. She was not ready to face the mastermind behind her tribe's destruction.
"Yes."
Laila fisted her dress in her hands, "when does he wish to see me?" she asked, swiftly turning to face the balcony.
"Tonight," he answered, moving closer to her.
She prayed he did not take even a step forward, afraid that she could no longer feign indifference.
Why was it so easy for him when she struggled to even be in the same space?
"I will be ready." The bluntness in her tone stopped him.
He stood a few inches from her, wanting to speak but unknowing of what to say.
He pulled back his hand.
"I shall see you tonight."
Silence filled the room.
Usman shook his head, prepared to walk away when she suddenly took hold of his arm. The softness of her touch was enough to stop him, forcing him to meet her eyes.
"Will... will you not accompany me?" she asked, almost childlike. Usman could barely focus as she held him.
Her touch was delicate, as though everything she held was precious to her.
But he could not be.
He removed her hand.
"No, I will not. You will be accompanied by your handmaidens."
The hurt in her eyes did not go unnoticed, Usman felt himself sink.
He constrained his emotions.
"Things work differently here, you must learn the order of the tribe. The sultan is far from a patient man." Summoning the last of his willpower, he turned away and left.
The disappointment which filled Laila's room was enough to make even a grown man weep. She held in the dismay and raised her head in defiance.
Tears would not be shed for an enemy.
Usman's job was only to protect her till she reached her prison. His mission is complete, and so was the last of his compassion.
At least, that is what she convinced herself as she was dressed for her first meeting with the sultan of Al-Muharibun.
The day passed faster than any day she had experienced since arriving here, and with every passing hour, her nerves only grew.
She was almost grateful for the covering which veiled her face. At least she could hide her emotions when she was presented in front of the greatest oppressor she has known.
Usman did not appear after all. Rightful towards his word, she would make her entrance alone.
A messenger arrived to inform of her departure. She breathed in, whispering a small prayer before making her way through the palace.
Laila had not ventured out of her quarters since her arrival, so when walking towards the grand throne room, her eyes could not help but take in the beauty. A palace built to intimidate its inhabitants. A show of wealth and power which could not be contended with.
Laila breathed in as the doors to the main room were opened.
Her eyes instantly fell at the centre, where a throne in the shape of a peacock's tail stood. Decorated with diamonds and gold, shining from the light of the lamps which brightened the whole room.
Seated on the pompous throne was a man whose face was filled with such arrogance, it was only right he was sat on the Peacock Throne. The only one worthy of such a seat.
The sultan, Sheikh Amir of Al-Muharibun.
Her steps inside were small, deliberately elegant. She did not remove her gaze from the sultan, not even to admire the grandeur of the room through which she walked. He did the same, a sly grin on his lips as he watched her entrance.
Besides him stood Usman, tense, watching as she approached. She felt his gaze, but did not meet his eyes.
Alone she was, and alone she would be. As he promised.
"The princess of Al-Shujae stands before me, of course I should welcome her," the sultan's voice was almost obnoxious. Laila bowed her head, allowing herself a silent glance around the room.
It was the biggest hall she had ever seen, maybe larger than the courtyard of her own tribe. Some men were gathered around them, watching her as she raised her head back up.
"It is an honour to meet you, sultan," she said, praying, wishing she was anywhere but here.
"The honour is all mine princess. Now tell me, how do you find my humble home?" His question was intentional, knowing that there was nothing humble about this palace.
"It is far grander than anything I have ever seen," she replied in his language of sarcasm, biting her tongue to stop any further comments.
The sultan laughed, "I wouldn't expect you to know any better considering your birth place."
The ministers around him sniggered, a sound which made Laila's heart race from anger.
How dare they speak on her home.
"Sultan." Usman's interruption stopped the laughter.
"The princess is still fatigued from her long journey." Surprised, Laila looked towards him. His eyes quickly met hers, before returning to the sultan.
"Nonsense, she has had days to rest."
"I have not travelled outside of Al-Shujae before." She managed to capture the attention of all those in the room, her soft voice low yet powerful.
"My dear, do they tell you to speak out of bounds in the Al-Shujae too? What has your father been teaching you?" the sultan mocked, causing Laila to shudder.
"My father has taught me everything I need to know. It is his teaching of duty which is the reason I stand before you today," she replied, her voice slightly raised. Usman stepped down from the podium, his expression alarmed.
The sultan raised his eyebrows, sitting up on his throne.
"You must have inherited rashness and lack of etiquette too. Tell me girl, do you know why you stand here today?" Laila raised her head in defiance, she would not be weak in front of such a man.
"I stand here as someone who has sacrificed for her tribe."
The sultan snickered, "And yet you do not know how delicate of a position you are in."
It was a warning. Do not speak out of bounds again.
"I am aware of my position, I am no less of a prisoner." Laila shook her head, conceding for now.
The sultan nodded, smirking. "You are defiant. It will be difficult to tame this one Usman, but I am sure the greatest warrior of Arabia can handle a woman." The men around the room laughed, humiliating Laila as she stepped back slightly.
She missed her father, she missed her home.
"Our meeting is over. Leave." The abruptness of the sultan was enough to make everyone obey.
"I look forward to seeing you again, princess," Amir mocked as she left.
-
They soundlessly walked.
He was behind her, afraid that she would fall at any time.
Remaining strong till she reached her quarters, Laila collapsed to the floor.
Usman fell before her, holding her shoulders up straight as he took in her exhausted expression.
The room was dark, the only sound of her deep breaths.
Laila removed her veil, facing him with tearful eyes.
"I fear that I have begun to expect things which I did not before."
Usman felt something in his chest, a pain from his heart which spread around his whole body.
"The sultan was harsh," he whispered, trying to comfort her. Or perhaps, trying to calm himself.
The darkness of her eyes pierced into his own.
"It was not the sultan I expected anything from."
.
"Do not be foolish Laila."
She blinked, swallowing the bulge in her throat.
"Leave."
His hands tightened on her shoulders.
"Is that what you wish?" he finally asked.
Answered with silence; Usman sighed, leaving her in darkness.
------
A fist was swung at him, he attempted to duck but it was too fast, Usman landed in a pile of mud. His clothes, although already stained, became wet and sticky. He wiped his eyes from unshed tears, forcing himself to stand again.
He could only watch as the food he had gathered for the day was taken by the beggars around him. Of course, he was also one of them. Yet, they did not treat him like it.
"If you continue to be so weak, they will continue to take your food." the croaky voice of his supposed 'caretaker' Nasir sounded from behind him. Usman sighed and turned, glancing at his empty hands.
"Worthless."
It was nothing new to hear such insults, even at only eight years old, Usman was used to it. As always, he was expected to gather his own rations and as always, he had failed.
"How?" he asked, his voice small and weak. The old man before him raised his eyebrows, waiting for him to continue. "How can I win?" he finished, looking to the ground.
"Eyes up boy!" Usman immediately cowered but obeyed. The man smirked, urging the child to follow him. They arrived in an area of the tribe that no decent man would come to. Of course where Usman lived was no different, but this was far worse.
A crowd had gathered in the middle of the street, shouting and cheering as a groan was heard. Usman stepped back, when his shirt was immediately grabbed and he was pushed into the crowd of men.
He was dragged to the front where a man was laying on the floor, bloodied and bruised. No one helped him, they only pointed and laughed as he was pulled away. Usman ached to run, feeling a chill down his spine as Nasir approached the one who won. He whispered at him, a grin appearing on both their faces and they turned towards him.
There was silence as Usman felt his world go black. He felt a punch at his chest, and then his jaw. He froze, unable to move, paralysed.
Ya Allah, help me , he pleaded.
.
His eyes suddenly opened, sweat covering his entire body.
It was just a dream, he comforted, hoping that the buried past memories would not resurface.
His back was aching against the door, begging him to move to his own chambers.
Yet, he could not will himself to leave.
His eyes travelled to the window before him, staring upon the night, hoping for rest as he imagined Laila sleeping soundly inside the room behind him.
That was enough. She was safe, she was sleeping. That was enough.
The brightness of the moon filled the sky, so much so, that even if his eyes wanted, they would not close.
Laila.
To be of the night, and to not allow him sleep.
What spell have you casted?