IT WOULD BE BETTER IF the hall went silent, but unfortunately, this was not the case.

"Who was that?"

"I'm not too sure — I think it was one of the princes. Shahzadeh Raza, perhaps?"

"No, that was definitely Prince Finn... What is he yelling about?"

"Why would you ask me to guess if you already who he was?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at the two ladies whispering. They were the same ones who, just a few moments ago, had been discussing the absence of the princes from the table.

A few moments ago, why would I care about the words they were spewing? They could continue to talk all they wanted, and by the interested gleam in their eyes, they certainly would.

Provided, that is, they didn't enrage the prince with their constant whispering. Whether that prince would be Prince Finn or Prince Raza or even the King himself, I didn't really care.

My own selfishness prevented me from caring about other people. As long as their careless words didn't affect me, I could care less about a punishment or execution.

Perhaps the only thing the announcement would do is leave a chill on my back. But at this point, I had the feeling that I had grown immune to the sensation.

Beside me, Maryam opened her mouth, as if wanting to chastise the two girls. Before she could, though, another yell echoed across the hall — this one much closer than before.

"Listen to this, beware of that — whose advisor are you? Who pays your salary? Is your name Darij or Ismal? Command this prince one more time, see if I don't sell off your mother to the slave traders."

Maryam, slowly and very wisely, closed her mouth.

"Shahzadeh, please, calm your anger," a weak, trembling voice replied. "I don't dare to command you to do anything."

"Or so you say," Prince Finn sneered. He was close enough that his footsteps now fell like stomps on empty vases — cold, loud and hollow. I could almost imagine the floor cracking with every footfall and word that flew out of his mouth. "Darij, who do you serve?"

"You, Shahzadeh, of course you," the voice replied.

Darij was a name that I hadn't heard in a long, long, long while, and had it not been put next to Ismal's in the previous sentence, then I certainly wouldn't have remembered who this person was.

If I wasn't mistaken, Darij was one of the scum who'd come to Babylon to find — or kidnap — women, and the one who'd protested the most heavily against my procurement.

Although he was certainly still scum, I couldn't help but lighten my opinion of him a little bit.

Ismal and the other man — Abdul, they were the ones who I truly loathed.

Still, when I spotted the both of them rounding the corner of the hall through the doors, the sense of dislike that I felt was not at all small.

Back in Babylon and even throughout the journey here, Darij had kept a haughty, prejudicial look on his face. Each and every time he looked back towards the crowd of women, there would be an obvious trace of disgust curling his lip. Perhaps to Archaem men, us women who came from smaller cities were merely playthings; much less the women that he picked out to essentially be slaves, even if we were to serve the princes.

Unless we actually entered the princes' protection, we were nothing.

Back then, I'd wondered if he himself realized the never leaving, always discernible lewdness and loathing in his gaze. I'd also wondered if he was perhaps 'that' breed of men that I'd only ever known from gossips in the market streets, the ones who enjoyed 'disgusting' themselves, feeling loathing or nausea.

Perhaps the idea that we were lowly had its own taste.

But now, as I watched Darij's weasel-like face scrunched up in terror, the side of his temples sweating like he was under the sun in the middle of sweltering summer, I couldn't help but change my earlier opinion.

Perhaps he was still in the same breed of men, but of a different circle.

Because as Prince Finn kept his face forward, his steps quick and lips tense with rage, it wasn't hard for me to see the fear and hatred in his face.

Fortunately — or unfortunately — there was no sense of lewdness, and when Prince Finn turned back to look at him, the loathing had all but melted away.

It didn't surprise me that he was a good actor, but I couldn't think of a single, plausible reason on why he would have that look on his face.

As if Darij would kill him if he could.

I didn't remember seeing this look the first time I arrived at the Palace.

"And if it's me," he sneered, "then why are your loyalties lying so questionably?"

"Shahzadeh, please do not misunderstand my words." Darij's face paled. "My loyalty is unquestionable; I serve you and only you. It is just not the wisest course of action to take-"

"Then should I go with the most humiliating course?" Prince Finn yelled. "Lower myself to that level? The level of a... a..."

"Shahzadeh!" Darij yelled out. His eyes darted around the dining hall, and I was relieved to see it didn't stop on me. "Shahzadeh, it is not wise to discuss this here."

Prince Finn abruptly stopped talking. He looked around the room, his face growing darker past every girl, and I lowered my gaze so as not to make eye contact. Maryam, smart enough to do the same, cursed under her breath, "What's she peacocking about for? Does she want to get us all punished?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a girl rolling her shoulders back, smiling at the prince almost blindingly. In any other case, she'd look like a peacock. Right now, she looked like a baboon.

For better or worse, Prince Finn didn't seem to notice. "Everyone out!" he shouted.

The girl shrank like a withering flower, blinking back tears in disbelief. I wondered what she had been expecting. "Out?" she gasped.

No one answered her.

"You heard the prince," Darij hissed. "Out! All of you! This hall will be used by the Prince!"

He waved to the guards standing near the entrance. "Escort them out!"

Whatever they were discussing, it seemed that even the guards had an idea, because we were escorted out like cattle; quickly, roughly, with tense faces and aggressive motions. Somewhere, I heard someone shout out in pain.

I hurried my steps. The guards weren't allowed to touch us, possible future mistresses of royalty, but in this situation, I highly doubted Prince Finn would notice a sword poking someone's back or a particularly violent shove.

Maryam shuffled quickly behind me. Ahmad stood on the side, pushing her along, face cold and impassive; his acting skills were far better than the girl, whose face was so red she could pass for having a fever.

I looked down, and just barely saw Maryam's fingers brush his hand.

Truly finding opportunities in moments of chaos.

"Why are you taking so long?" Prince Finn yelled. "Quickly! Make them go quickly!" As he spoke, he stomped his feet down onto the ground, like a child throwing a temper tantrum.

In front of me, a girl shifted, as if desperately trying to shove her way through, but in a horde of two dozen girls, each being ushed and shoved by a line of guards long enough to defend an entourage, it was impossible for us to move any faster than we were without being dragged.

"Calm down, brother," Prince Raza sneered, leaning against the doorway. "There's no point in being angry." His words would have been more believable if the veins in his forehead wweren't throbbing and his cheeks, practically blue.

"Calm down? Tell me, are you reconciled?" Prince Finn turned. "Can you just sit there and accept this? This is madness. Since when has something like this ever happened? Ever been allowed? Brother, we are the rightful ones. Are you really willing to allow him to do what he wants?"

"Even if we aren't willing, what do you want to do?"

"He must've used some form of black magic! Witchcraft! Something criminal. I don't believe that we can't investigate him and get--"

"Finn," Prince Raza interrupted. His face had gone dark. "Shut your mouth. There are other people here."

He pushed himself away from the doors and glanced to the side, right as I was passing the archway.

Our eyes met, and the air suddenly felt cold.

I looked down at my feet, just in time to hear Prince Raza continue, "Do you want to tell everyone about this? Why bother telling the girls to leave? Just let them stay and help you plot. Maybe you'll have better ideas than shouting around and yelling at Papa..."

Whatever words he said next, I'd never know, because in the next second the guards had slammed the door shut.

Outside, the hall echoed with a sickeningly loud bang.

A butler smiled at all of us, his expression so rigid the action looked like it would make his face crack in halves. "Ladies," he said, voice especially shrill, "as you heard, the princes are discussing kingdom matters. Please go back to your rooms."

He clapped his hands together. Nobody moved.

His face grew ugly. "Our apologies, misses, but we are currently short on staff to escort you back to your wings. Please do find your own way back to your rooms... And as much as possible, please do not come out until we have called you."

It should have been a suggestion, but when the butler's hawk-like eyes swept over the crowd, all of the girls dropped our heads down.

This was an order, only I wasn't sure on behalf of what or for whom. Issued by Prince Finn, temperamental as he was? Prince Raza? Or the King? Or perhaps even Prince Cairo? And what was it for? Was it issued for us... or because whatever they had to discuss worked against us?

A hundred different possibilities came to mind. In all of them, I couldn't find a single good one.

The horde of girls moved slowly; it seemed that every one of us wanted to know what they were discussing in the halls, whether that be for better or for worse. When we reached the stairs, I turned around to squeeze Maryam's hand.

"Don't do anything stupid today," I said. "It's not safe." It didn't take any sort of eavesdropping to realize that some form of tension was running high.

If by chance Maryam and Ahmad were to be found out today... I didn't think the consequences could get any more severe.

Maryam nodded, squeezing my hands back. "Tell me if you figure anything out," she whispered, before quickly running up the steps.

When the horde of girls separated, the halls felt especially quiet. The guards that were usually here were noticeably fewer, and the maids that walked past scurried in packs of two o three, buckets of laundry covering their faces, as if afriad to be caught gossiping.

"Did you hear? His Majesty called Prince Cairo into his bedroom today... They say they were discussing something about--"

"Shut your mouth!" her friend whispered. "Whatever they're doing, are they things we should be wondering over? We're just maids. All they have to do is hear one extra word and our lives will be gone! It doesn't concern us anyway. Why gossip about it? Have you gone tired of living..."

Their voices faded away. I wondered whether they'd seen me, plastered against a golden-framed painting of a long dead king, listening in on their conversation.

I stared at their backs. The usual bad habit had started to come back. The urge to eavesdrop. The urge to scurry around. The urge to know just what in Khuda's name was happening around this Palace.

Slowly, I clenched my fists, my nails digging in so deep into my hands I could feel them bleed, before forcefully turning around and stomping away.

The Palace had shown me my bad habit -- the urge to always need to know everything first. Back in Babylon, this was an easy need to satisfy.

But in the Palace, there were Gods whose hands moved much faster than karma, and I was not ready to be hit.

If I went back, I would be a lamb eagerly offering itself up for slaughter. It was about time I learned my lesson well.

so sorry for my absence 😭

KAY ©️ 2021.