CHAPTER THREE

EATING BREAKFAST BY HERSELF with servants standing to the side ready to be instructed left Mazeeda at the edge of her seat the entire time. She could practically feel their stares and blinks.

She didn't finish breakfast.

She turned the corridor and was surprised to see a man waiting for her.

He bowed down, his hair falling carelessly with it. “Malika, I've been waiting for you.”

She returned the gesture.

He looked at her then, his carmel eyes a contrast to his dark skin he wore proudly. “I am Zaabit, the head of all the guards in this qasr.”

If Mazeeda was to be impressed, she was not.

“I hope you are finding it well here?”

It hit her rather quickly. That skin color, his body structure, his voice. “You're also the Caliph’s right hand man, I know it.”

Zaabit only gave her an amused look, intrigued mostly by how well her memory was.

“You're the only man the Caliph takes to his travels when he seeks another bride. You were there when I was taken.”

He inclines his head. “Indeed, I was.”

Mazeeda shifted her weight to her other foot. “You pointed to me and said I was Shazerade when you knew I wasn't.” A question she's been pushing back was now surfacing onto the shore. “Why?”

Zaabit tipped his head back, pondering on her question, even if he knew the answer. “No woman in any tribe or village I've been to has done that. It was a selfless and intrepid act I haven't seen in a long time, Malika. I pray to my smallgods that it does not go to waste.”

His words were touching, just like Adelah’s. “It will not,” she told him.

SHE FOUND THE GARDEN BY herself even though she walked around the corridor multiple times. And what Mazeeda saw was breathtaking.

The garden had vibrant colors that seemed to be complimenting each other fairly. Flowers even Mazeeda had never seen before brought amazement to her face. And the grass was a stunning green.

But most of all, the garden was alive.

Mazeeda found herself at the fountain, the same one she pasted on her first night in this qasr.

It was profound and prodigious, placed in the center of it all. The translucent water pouring from the top caught the sun at a perfect angle. The bowl that collected the water was square and neatly carved to an unexplained perfection. At the top stood a magnificent striking lioness.

It dawned on Mazeeda that this lioness was carved into an uncomfortable beauty that no real lioness could compete with. Every little detail was put into it.

The carving of this lioness seemed rough all around. The head was tipped at a strange angle, the claws were too long, and its body bigger than any anatomical one

But the eyes looked the worst, they looked wrong.

And dead.

It was looking straight at Mazeeda, no, looking through her in fact. The longer she kept looking at it, the more she felt lost and unhinged.

“I take it you like this one?” a modulated voice said behind her. She turned and saw a guardsman a few feet away from her. He wore no leather armour but instead wore simple linen breeches with a tunic belt clasped low at the waist.

“It is beyond beautiful,” Mazeeda told the man, “but I do not like it.”

He gave her a fascinated look. “I see.”

She wanted to know who this man was. This man, who didn't radiate power and superiority. “And you?”

He frowned then, and even before saying what he was about to say, Mazeeda realized who this was. “I find it distasteful as well, even if I carved it myself.”

She nearly choked at his response. “I'm sorry, Amon Al-Fadhli.”

He brushed it off. “What I say is true. This was my first sculpture in many years, but my nephew had insisted it be done so I let it be done for him. Even if he didnt tell me, I knew he wanted it done quickly, his maddening eyes had told me. And so I rushed this tragic beauty.” In the end, his hands were trembling in the slightest against his thigh.

Mazeeda put a reassuring hand on it and immediately felt the eyes of roaming maids on them. No Malika should be touching anyone but the Caliph. But they were family now, and family didn't leave anyone out.

No matter how murderous their husband was.

Amon turned to her in great gratitude for the unnecessary comfort he took in. “Malika, believe me when I say that my nephew was a good man. He knows how to weave his way through this corrupt qasr and bargain with greedy viziers. And I still do believe that he is.”

Mazeeda nodded. Words were not forming and if they did, it would betray how she really felt about Khai.

Because the simple words of hope that fell out of Amon’s mouth was not enough to convince her otherwise.

THE NIGHT CAME QUICKER THAN she liked. And again, she sat on the cushions that was now turning into a safe haven for her.

Mazeeda was ready; she had questions that only the caliph could answer.

He came at the same time, the color of his outfit a dark contrast to her light green. Again, that gold bracelet was on his wrist.

“You have questions,” he told her as he sat down on his own cushion, tucking his left leg in.

If the queen was surprised, she did not show it. “I do. I have met Zaabit, your right hand man.”

A smile began to form ever so slowly on his chiseled face.

“I have also met Amon, your uncle.”

It vanished quickly before coming back as his hunter smile. Deadlier than ever somehow. “I see. And your thoughts on my uncle?”

She pondered for a moment. “He is a good man. A dreamer.”

He shook his head, his hand falling down to his lap.

It was then that Mazeeda realized that he still had his beloved dagger with him. And it looked sharper from the last twenty-four hours.

“A flaw that leaves him vulnerable to corrupt men,” he moved his hand from his lap to his knee, rubbing his thumb over lavish breeches, “but I cannot stop him if that is what he wishes to be.”

Questions inside her head began humming strongly within her, clashing at her every thought. She tried to still her innumerable muse.

And failed.

“Why did you make him carve that lioness?”

His answer came in a forthwith. “Because my uncle is a great carver, the best one I've seen. And I wished for him to carve the last animal I've hunted so I could remember it.”

Mazeeda was not satisfied with his answer, but did not push. In doing so would leave her blood stained onto the carpet floor.

“Now,” the Caliph told his malika in a deliberate and polished voice, “tell me the story of how the sun loved the moon so much it died to let it live. Did you think I would come to forget such a tale?”

She touched her intricate braid atop her head, simple and elegant. And it made her deathly beautiful tonight. “No, Khai. A storyteller never forgets their own woven stories.”

“Then enchant me.”

|AUTHOR'S NOTE|

okay, so some new characters were introduced! what do you guys think of them?

but there are wayyy more characters that need to be introduced...