CHAPTER TEN

MAZEEDA RESURFACED FROM THE TUB she was in, gasping for air. Being surrounded by the jasmine scent water for five minutes did nothing to ease her mind.

For some reason, her nerves were not calming down.

She needed to do something productive today, needed to do something with her hands. Needed to get out of the lavish dresses her maids put on her.

"I wish to do something today," the storyteller told Adelah. "Something unusual."

The maid raised her sharp eyebrow. "What is it that you wish to do?"

Mazeeda grabbed the edge of the tub and lifted herself up, the cool sensation wrapping around her like an anaconda. A purple towel wrapped around her body.

She stepped out. "Anything." And walked out to her bedroom, where a green and red dress awaited for her.

"Perhaps sewing?" Nylah suggested, who was approaching the queen with her dress.

Sewing never appealed to the Calipha anymore, not after she was taken from Evilla. Her hands sought for something else.

Mazeeda stepped into her morning dress without resistance. "I..." she began before rewording, "Is Zaabit busy this morning?"

ZAABIT'S STRIDES WERE TOO LONG for the Calipha to keep up with, but she was not going to complain. Not when she could finally get a better understanding of this home of hers she's been staying at for over a month now.

It felt anything but home. These walls were bleeding with secrets she wanted to uncover. These granite floors had history written all over it that she wanted to read.

They were deep in the qasr, already passing the throne and ball room. Zaabit abruptly stopped in front of two massive doors, lion heads placed on each of them.

"What room is this?" Mazeeda studied her husband's right hand man. His feature was stoic and serious, his face emotionless for such a young man. His beard beginning to grow.

She wondered of a time when it wasn't this.

"The library, Malika." He opened the door and stepped aside to let her in.

The smell of old ancient books ready to spill their knowledge hit her nose, and Mazeeda breathed it all in. A mixture of dust and wood.

An odd and familiar smell. It smelt like...

It smelt like...

Shaking her head, the storyteller dropped the thought. She ventured further into the dimly lit room, reminding her of the tents of her home.

Her fingers found the spine of a book, running it down the length; never had she ever felt such a texture. So rough and crisp.

"No one visits this place anymore," Zaabit called from behind, watching his queen in silence. He thought of her as bizarre, not even him found this place interesting.

Mazeeda turned her head, looking back.

"No one," he continued on, "but the Caliph."

Amusement rose her arched eyebrows. "Oh?"

A curt nod. "Yes, he uses this place as his office at times. But mostly to simply read."

A book was in her hand and the queen opened it, the sound of the cracking spine hitting her ear in a perfect tune. The words staring back at her was all jargon, like trying to read sand.

Such a pity that she could but read. She had been taught that storytellers had no need for the skill, not when she can do it freely with her mouth.

"Are you ready, Calipha?" Zaabit did not want to sound rude or impatient, but a meeting was nearing that he had to attend to.

"Yes." She put the book back.

When the door closed behind them, Mazeeda finally realized that the smell of this library smelt like Khai.

She wondered how often he came to the place.

They were in the southern courtyard from what the guard told her. Unlike the one with the fountain, this one was specialized in all sorts of fruit and vegetables.

She watched the maids water and plow the garden to perfection.

Zaabit was explaining how sweet the tomatoes were, but Mazeeda's mind was elsewhere.

For she found a crack in the qasr wall. For a palace so grand and mighty, here lied such a flaw. It was like looking at a loose tooth.

Just by looking at how enormous it was, the storyteller was sure she could slip between it. No one would notice, not with all the stems growing of it.

SHE FOUND HERSELF ALL FIDGETY since her discovery of that crack in the wall. How easy it would be to slip out and be free.

To be home. In Evilla.

But tonight, she would have to wait until Khai was gone before taking action. And so she stood in the middle of the room, waiting.

And waiting.

And waiting.

Before she realized he wasn't coming. A sudden heaviness fell upon her, like raindrops. She did not know what the feeling was, so she stepped out of her chambers and out to the hall.

Nothing.

Not even her usual guard stood watch. Everything was tense and quiet, so thick indeed that a knife could try to cut through it. And break.

Mazeeda cautiously began walking, wanting to find anyone to explain what was happening at the moment.

Her nerves spiked, knowing something was wrong. Very wrong. It felt like a lion preying on her.

The feeling was very close to being dead.

She turned the corridor and-

"Malika!" Zaabit cried out in horror. "Why are you wondering the qasr at this hour?"

Mazeeda was stricken with confusion, which was slowly turning into fear. "I did not know I had a curfew?" She looked over his shoulder. "Khai should have been in my chambers. Where is he?"

He placed his hand on her arm and began to steer her away. The queen being out at this hour made Zaabit scared. She would only make things worse.

"You must go back," he ushered her.

She sidestepped him, walking the other way. "Why?"

"It is for your wellbeing."

The queen squinted at him and found angst and concern drawn onto his face, so different from this morning.

"Tell me what is happening," she demanded, "as your queen, shouldn't I know?" She would have to pluck out the answers if she had to.

He sighed, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "From my king's order, I cannot."

Clenching her jaw, Mazeeda brushed past Zaabit like a curtain. He was of no use if he told her nothing. But losing him was hard, not with his long strides.

She began running, moving her proud legs after another. The last time she had ever run like this was with Sokath on their hunt for the mischievous Rain.

Only this time, it was not for fun. She had to find Khai and demand an explanation. Tonight felt like a night for death, and the storyteller did not like it.

"Mazeeda!" Zaabit yelled after her. Never had he seen a girl run so fast. He felt utterly foolish chasing after his own queen.

The Calipha saw a door open and-

Out came Khai. And he stopped her by holding her shoulders, his nails digging into her night gown in an iron grip.

She winced before looking up.

His eyes were glazed and murderous. Indeed, tonight was a night for death.

|AUTHOR'S NOTE|

wow, I really don't like how I wrote this chapter.