CHAPTER FOUR

SHE TOOK A DRINK OF the rose water next to her before Mazeeda began her tale once again. But today, right this instance, she felt bold enough to test his patience. So she sat there patiently, counting how long it'd take before her husband snapped at her.

Mazeeda didn't even reach twenty when he finally spoke.

“Begin your story, before I end yours.” His voice was wearing thin and she loved what control she had over him at the moment.

She looked at him through her eyelashes, a look Mazeeda knew her mother made to her father that said, I am yours to command.

It was a powerful gaze that she learned to perfect.

“Indeed,” she began deliberately, “the sun warrior was Sharik laying amongst his enemies. He had been wounded dangerously, daring to fight against death. He did not want to die.

Leila was struck into silence as she stared at him. Never had she seen a sun warrior this close. Let alone a living one. And so she dared to walk to him and found him breathing shallowly, his hand putting pressure on his seeping wound where gold blood was slipping out against silver.

She kneeled down, her hand briskly touching the cool blade against her waist. She would kill him, she would. She was taught that all her life.

Sharik looked up at his killer. Her pale blue skin awed him. He had never seen a moon priestess. Her grey eyes were like the moon, her white hair like spilled stars. He didn't know if his eyes were deceiving him, but he'd never seen such a beautiful woman like her.

And she was going to kill him.

The curved blade gleamed softly against the moon’s light. Leila held it up with both hands, ready to strike him true in his throat. She would do him the favor and put him out of his misery. She brought the dagger down and-

‘You're beautiful.’

The blade stopped right at his neck. Leila looked at him then and found amber eyes staring back at her, like fire. They were fierce; filled with a warrior's pride and honor, even if he was dying.

She dropped her prized weapon and slumped down next to him, her back hunched like she was defeated. No matter how many times Leila was told to hate the enemy, she couldn't kill this man. Though his blood was gold and not silver, he still bled just like her. Though his skin was bronze and not pale, he still hurt like her.

And even if it was wrong, she had to do what was right to her. ‘Let me help you,’ she told this warrior.

She went straight to work, cleaning his still bleeding wound before sticking a needle through his tough skin. It was like stitching a piece of cloth together. She worked quickly, running on limited time. She was finishing up the last stitches when Leila heard her name be called nearby.

Her hands were covered in his blood when she finished. ‘I'm sorry,’ Leila told him, ‘this is the best I can do.’ She got up with ease as she picked up her lamp, making her way back to where her name was being called.

And so she left him there, so weak and feeble, as she strode away with her brother. Leila hoped he would survive and live.

Sharik watched her leave, her body seeming to glow from the illuminating night. He hadn't thanked her. And her name was Leila.

‘Leila, Leila, Leila.’

Sharik fell into a deep sleep with her name on his lips.”

“That's all?” Khai suddenly asked just as she finished.

Mazeeda leaned back against her furniture and closed her eyes as the arrogant sun began to slowly rise. “Oh no, Caliph, that's only the beginning.”

“Very well.” He seemed amused with her, beyond curious with her actually.

There was some shuffling and Mazeeda opened her eyes to see what it was. And found Khai staring down at her, hands clasped behind his back and eyes perplexed. He displayed not even an inch of emotion.

Like a scorpion ready to strike.

She felt paralyzed under his gaze. “Khai?” She heard him exhale shakingly. He mumbled something under his breath but her ears were not fast enough to catch it.

He looked away from her before looking back. “Good night,” he told her simply before straightening himself, shifting his feet, and walking out of the room yet again.

When her right mindset came back, Mazeeda called for Adelah’s twin, Nylah.

“Yes, Malika?”

Mazeeda stood up, her knees shaking in the slightest as she made her way to the bed. She laid on her back and looked at the ceiling. “Please stay with me until I fall asleep. I would like it very much if you did.”

Nylah didn't hesitate to say, “Of course.”

“Make yourself as comfortable as you need to,” the queen mumbled under her breath as she felt sleep whispering to her.

And as sleep coursed through her body, it dawned on her that Khai's eyes moments ago looked just like the eyes of the lioness statue in the garden.

MAZEEDA DID NOT SLEEP WELL last night, and it was apparent as she looked at herself though the mirror as Adelah and Adarah braided her hair to perfection. No strand was out of place or crooked.

Her eyes were glazed with tiredness and her body dropped down from the heavy weight of it.

She knew right away that today was not going to be a good one.

This time, Mazeeda did finish her breakfast. Barely; not when everyone's eyes felt like daggers impaling at every fiber in her body.

The qasr walls were unique, each room was colored differently with their own elaborate design.

The room she was in at the moment was painted a mild orange with red flowers; each one drawn differently from each other.

Mazeeda didn't know what this room was used, but whatever it was, it amazed her. All around the room were cushioned seats and tall windows. It must be one of the lounge rooms.

This furthered her curiosity to what the other rooms looked like.

She heard the slightest whisper of a cry in a corner of the room. The Calipha turned to such a noise and found a maid crying in the darkest corner.

Her steps were light, but the maid still looked up as she heard someone approach. No, not someone, the queen.

Immediately, she straightened herself up, wiped her spilled tears away and said, “Malika,” in a weak tone.

Mazeeda smiled and nodded. “What is your name?”

“Aahliya, my queen.” She kept her eyes casted down.

“Aahliya, tell me why you were crying.”

The maid shook her head in defiance. “I couldn't. I can't my queen.”

“Mazeeda.”

“What?” she looked up, dumbfounded.

“Please address me by my name. I am no queen in this qasr.” And it was true, she was as much of a slave as anyone who served the Caliph.

“Of course, of course Mazeeda. But I can't. Oh, I-” and then she broke out into another heart-wrenching cry “-Mazeeda, the Caliph has stripped me of my job for all the trouble I've caused him.”

A sandstorm so strong began to take form in her small body. She'd never seen such a foolish king in her life. “What did you do?”

Aaliyah looked at Mazeeda, her eyes flickering. “This morning, the Caliph took a rose bath instead of a jasmine one, ripped his breeches, and lost a compromise after he saw me. He claimed that because of my face, I've caused him misfortune.”

The Malika clasped the maid's shoulders softly and said, “You do not have a face that brings misfortune, so I will see to it that you are not punished unjustly.”

Aaliyah searched her savior's eyes for any deceit and found none. “You will speak to the king for me?” As if surfacing from the water that capsized her, she shook her head. “Mazeeda, I cannot allow such a thing. I do not deserve it.”

“It's like saying you don't want to live.”

The maid opened her mouth to refute, but came short with nothing.

“Very well,” she said satisfied. “Then come with me.”

And so the maid and the queen walked down colorful and tall corridors until they reached the room where the merciless boy king commanded Yaheisea.

In her village, rain was rare and when it came, it came in a flash flood of powerful waves that were unforgiving to even the most purest person.

She would be that flash flood to her husband.

Mazeeda turned to Aaliyah. “Do you have a strip of cloth with you?”

The young girl searched the pockets of her plain dress and surprisingly found a grey strip of cloth. She held it out with trembling hands. “Will this do?”

A nod. “Now, cover my eyes with it.”

“Oh! My queen, are you sure?”

“As sure as the aligned stars at night.” She realized that Aaliyah was a girl with much doubt and fear in her youth. The Malika remembered how she used to be like that before entering this qasr.

So the maid did what she was told. “What now?”

Mazeeda stuck out a hand, trying to feel where Aaliyah was now that she saw nothing but black. “Now, you are to escort me in when the guard opens the door. And when we are in, you must trust me. My husband may be cruel, but he is a foolish man.”

Together, they walked in. The Caliph wouldn't know what hit him.

Khai sat straighter in his raised dais when he saw his Mazeeda down on her knees with a strip of cloth over her eyes. He paid no attention to the maid besides her.

It was a surprise to his day.

And it made him laugh, where it echoed off the gold walls. “Malika, what brings you here?” His voice was smooth and filled raw authority. “Is something wrong?”

The queen shook her head. “No, Caliph. Rather everything is fine but…”

Khai heard the murmurs of his viziers and even saw Zaabit give the queen a strange look. He raised a hand and everything went silent. “But what?” He leaned forwards.

Mazeeda tilted her head to the side and folded her hand into her marigold dress. “But your face brings misfortune.”

Murmurs erupted at this remark, all of them amazed and shocked to see the such remarks thrown at their king.

“Thus why I have a cloth over eyes.”

A closed lip smile fell on his face. He began to understand what she was doing. “And why must you shield your eyes from my face,” his mocking voice asked her.

“Because Aaliyah only brought you a broken compromise and a bad morning. But your face has made her lose her job and her only source of income.”

The Caliph rubbed his strong chin and laughed once again, tipping his head up to the painted ceiling. “My love, you make me come to my senses. The maid besides you gets to keep her job.”

Mazeeda let out a breath of relief.

Khai got up from his dais and made his way to the queen.

She held in her breath as she heard the soft and meticulous steps she knew belonged to her husband. And before she knew it, the cloth was ripped away from her eyes, making her wince.

His grip was cold and strong on her chin, forcing her to look up at his brown eyes. She tried to pull away but it was no use.

The king bent down and whispered into Mazeeda’s ear, “You will do well in this kingdom as my queen.”