CHAPTER TWELVE

HAALON, THE CAPITAL CITY OF Yaheisah, was lively at the highest peak of the night. Consumers and wanderers alike were drawn to the concession stands, each one vibrant in color and life. Mazeeda was awestruck with everything she was seeing, never would she have guessed that this city had such personality to it. Especially not when the qasr she lived in was anything but.

After seeing this, the storyteller would never go back to that prison.

“Come one, come all!” A merchant called out to those passing him. And then he spotted a lost girl memorized by everything that caught her attention. Easy money, he told himself. “You, young lady!”

Mazeeda swirled around and found a middle-aged man beckoning her to step into his trap. She complied like a naive baby. She realized, once she was in view of his stand, that this man was selling spices.

“Now, my lady,” the dealer boomed in confidence, “you seem like a woman to cook. Surely these spices will appeal to you.” He displayed his hand out. “These spices have been obtained from the edges of Yaheisah.”

The runaway queen simply nodded, looking but surely not buying.

The old man frowned when he realized that this girl was not going to give him her money. “Perhaps you are looking for a type of scent.” He rummaged through his boxes of perfume before finding the one he knew would captivate her. Her sprayed it in her face.

The unexpected scent left Mazeeda coughing until she realized what that smell was: jasmine. Just like Khai’s scent. She stepped back, waving her hand in front of her face. “My apologizes, but you have nothing of my liking.”

She did not need any reminders of the qasr tonight, let alone the murderous Caliph. Her hand instinctively touched the hilt of the dagger, reminding the Malika why she was here: to head back to Evilla and return to the simple life she had.

Before she knew it, Mazeeda found herself in the very centre of the market. Food, jewelry, and animals were in this area.

The sweet and savory smell hit just right through her nasal way, reminding her just how hungry she really was. It was time for her to find something to eat, but she had no money on her.

She came as out of the qasr as broke as a thief with a dagger suited for an assassin.

This was going to be the first time she went hungry since her time in the palace, but numerous times back in Evilla.

The queen was unexpectantly knocked down by a force no wind could compare to, falling harshly on her butt --the dagger digging into her thigh.

“I am-” a frightful voice called above her “-I am so, so sorry.”

An outstretched hand came into view. Mazeeda looked up to find a girl no younger than she was, skinny and frail to the bone. Her hair was knotted up into a bun and she wore worn down breeches. Her skin and hair just as dark as hers, if not darker.

Cautiously, the storyteller took the fragile hand, feeling the girl's bone under her warm one. “It's quite alright,” she said, brushing off the rubble and dust caught in the fibers of the night gown.

The girl shook her head. “Please, I must repay you somehow. Not after ruining such a fine woven gown like yours.”

Mazeeda hadn't realized it until now, but the silk gown she was wearing must radiate power --and she did not like it one bit. “Oh, there's no need. This thing I wear now? It's nothing.”

“I insist,” the girl implied, sweetly. “Perhaps some food?”

A smile appeared on the Malika. “I would like that very much. Thank you.”

“It's my pleasure.” A pause. “My name is Fani.”

Mazeeda hesitated, afraid that if she told this girl her name, she'd realize who she was. “Zeeda is mine.”

Before she knew it, Fani had spoiled the queen like a baby sheep. Under the starry night and the burning lamp, the night was calm and tranquil as they sat at a table.

“Satisfied?”

Looking down from the night sky, Mazeeda answered, “Quite.”

“I'm glad.”

“You hadn't taken the time to buy something for yourself.”

Fani fumbled with her fingers before pushing them down on her lap. “I am not hungry, I've only wished to treat you after...what I done.” Her voice was quiet and full of doubt unlike moments ago.

“I see,” the queen noted quizzically. If she remembered correctly, Yaheisea was a prosperous country to this day. And yet, there were civilians like Fani who had barely enough scraps of money to go about --and to even pay a stranger like her with some food.

Some king Khai was.

It made her --for just a split second-- want to go back to the qasr, stand by Khai's side, and have a voice in his meetings.

Mazeeda straightened in her seat. “I must be heading home now.”

“Oh!” Fani quickly stood up before tumbling towards her newly made friend. “Have some tea first, it will soothe your mind for your journey.”

Looking at that innocent smile and the Caliph's wife could not refuse. “Of course.”

The young girl rushed back into the lavish tent for a moment's time before coming out with a cup of tea. “Here,” she pushed eagerly to her, “this tea is very good for you.”

The storyteller noticed her shaking hand. With a shy smile, Mazeeda took a slow drink and winced. It was as bitter as drinking spoiled camel milk back home. She did not finish it, and she did not intend to.

She had never tasted such foul tea, and she did not trust it.

“I shall walk with you until the end of Haalon, I even know a shortcut through the neighborhood alley.”

“Lead the way,” the queen spoke in eagerness. She was going home --back to Evilla-- and reuniting with her parents and mischievous three brothers. And especially her friend whom she rushed her own life for, Shazerade. “Thank you for what you've done, Fani. I will not forget you.”

Fani was strangely quiet as the made their way through the second alleyway, the bustling noise and smell of the market far from them now. Mazeeda didn't know if it was because she was growing quite tired by the second, but everything seemed to be too heavy for her.

“We're almost there,” her guide said in a trembling tone.

“Al...alright.” Her mouth felt too heavy of a burden to open, perhaps she should have finished the tea.

Fani made an unexpected turn and the queen had a hard time keeping up with her smooth steps. Making the same right turn, Mazeeda bumped into two rugged down men. Both were equal in build and strength.

"That's her," Fani's voice wavered, "she's the one I'm giving you guys."

And then they held her captive under the arm. Just beyond her sight, she saw Fani watching at a distance in guilt.

Such a fool the storyteller was to be so naive in this corrupt world. Never again would she trust strangers so quickly. After all, this wasn't Evilla.

“You…”

Fani turned her head in disgust and horror. This was her doing, this was her only way to make money.

Mazeeda kicked and clawed at her two kidnappers, screamed even. She found no real solution. This was how she was going to die, not from Khai, but by these corrupt men.

She was going to die-

She picked at the floating broken courage in the air and used that confidence to bite down hard on the thief to her right on the arm, hard enough to taste that copper liquid.

When his grip loosened from the abrupt pain, Mazeeda took that moment to grab Khai's dagger and stabbed it true into one of her captors chest, it had come so naturally to her.

She began running then.

She did not look back, she couldn't bring herself to. Such a broken world she loved in; innocence the first casualty to poverty. And Fani had become a victim to it.

Evilla was not on her mind as her feet became led, the qasr was. That damn place, she cursed. It was the closest place to keep her safe.

At first she heard heavy steps and then sharp pain travelling along her skull as Mazeeda screamed with her hair caught in the hands of her thief.

She fell to her knees, hand tightening onto the handle of the dagger.

“Such a stubborn girl,” his sandy voice scratched at her ear, his breath sticky and hot. “Once I sell you though, you will be anything but.”

Fear rose up in the deepest parts of the storyteller’s body as she struggled to keep her breathing steady, her eyes open, her strength up. She realized now that Fani had drugged her with the tea.

She raised the dagger up, quickly becoming familiar with it's crooked croove.

The man laughed. “So brave of you to try to kill me with that.”

She did not speak as she closed her eyes and her trembling hand cut straight through her long obsidian hair. Mazeeda had never cut her hair to her shoulder before. Women with long hair in Evilla brought luck and prosperity to their family and husband. They were valued by their hair, and she felt naked without it.

She brought her palms forward to stop herself from hitting the ground completely, her eyes covered with drowsiness. Her ears heard an outburst of commission behind her back, like fighting and the acute sword of metal against metal.

“...Zeeda…”

Her ears perked up at her own name, turning around to figure out who had said it. Her hearing was not good, it was like drowning in an ocean of water.

“...Zeeda…” the soft voice said desperately, scooping her up into a warm embrace.

The storyteller flicked her eyes up but even her eyes were deceiving her. Her blurry vision was hard to focus on that copper skin. Those strong cheekbones. The soft feeling of elegant clothing.

The smell of jasmine.

“Khai…”

And then she fell out of reality and into a deep sleep, something she hoped to never wake up from.