chapter thirty-seven

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WE GATHERED IN THE DINING HALL for dinner before they announced that it was going to be served in our rooms. The butlers wore tense, frightened faces, and the maids scurried along like little mice.

They didn't tell us the reason why, just ushered us up the stairs like shepherding pigs to barns, but we could guess.

"Absolutely not!" Prince Finn's voice roared along the halls, distorted by the walls and high arches like the wail of a resentful ghost. I couldn't tell where his voice had come from, but it passed through me like a spirit and chills ran down my spine.

"Hurry, Miss," the maid behind me whispered. Her hand was placed perpetually on my shoulder, never touching but always there to push and urge. "You don't want to be late for dinner."

Another ghostly wail rang out across the hall, and I felt both of us perpetually shiver in unison. What should've taken two steps to cover quickly became one.

Neither of us was scared of missing dinner, but I didn't know if the girl behind me knew I could hear the mumbled prayers recited under her breath.

When we got to my room, Maria was already waiting inside, holding a silver tray.

"Miss, you came just in time," she said, kicking the door close. "Everything is still hot."

"Really?"

"Yes. We have fruit dolma, tachin, kabab koobideh—"

"Maria, what is happening in the palace right now?"

Maria paused. "I'm not too sure, Miss."

Her eyes shifted down. "Do you have to lie to me?" I asked. "Speak properly."

"It's— It's not that I don't wish to tell you, Miss, but I'm not sure of how reliable this is," she said, frowning. "I heard from the kitchen hands earlier that it has something to do with naming the Valiahd."

"The King wants to name Prince Omar Valiahd so soon?" I reached my hand out to grip the side of my dress.

Prince Omar may spare Prince Finn, but he will certainly not spare Prince Cairo. When he becomes King, there is no telling what will happen to the latter. A concubine-born son is undeniably an eyesore to the ruler and a threat to the throne.

And when that happens, what will happen to me?

"Oh, no, Miss," Maria said, setting down the table. Her earlier look of reluctance had quickly been replaced with the ecstasy of gossip. "You misunderstood. The problem is that the King doesn't want to name Prince Omar as Valiahd."

"What?"

"Yes, it's the most shocking news we've had in a long time." Maria scurried over to the side of the bed. "One of the chambermaids has been cleaning up the King's study for years now. She's a senior in the palace but her mouth is very loose. She came into the kitchen the other day and made a big riot. Apparently, the day before yesterday, the King called the princes to his study. After a long meeting, he called his advisors over. The maid was cleaning in the room beside the study and couldn't resist eavesdropping. It's said—"

Maria leaned in close, eyes big and twinkling like the owls sold in the markets of Babylon. "—it's said that he drafted his will."

Will?

"The King is dying?" I whispered.

"Oh, it's old news, Miss," Maria replied. "I thought you knew. I think all of the other ladies know, as well. He has been sick for a very long time."

"Sick? With what? Since when? Was he already sick when I came?"

"Oh, yes. No one know why but everyone thinks it's a heart ailments. Although, there are rumors that it's some kind of poison, but most of that is just hogwash from the laundry maids. Most of the gossip comes from them, but the maids in that department are always bored and looking for entertainment, so we don't ever know what's true or false."

He has been sick for that long? And I didn't know?

Do the other girls know? Has the fight for the princes been so competitive because they aren't looking for a concubine position, but a shortcut to Bibi or Shahbano instead?

"And then?" My fingers clawed into my hands, deep enough that I felt myself bleed, only to look down and see clean nails and pale crescent moon. "What happened next?"

"After that, the King sent all his advisors away. And then, he called Prince Cairo over, once again. That's why everyone thinks that the future King is Prince Cairo, not Prince Omar. The other two princes probably feel this way, too, which is why the Palace is so tense lately."

Maria picked at the corners of the pillow and said, "The three of them have never gotten along well, Miss, and I'm sure you've noticed. I've heard the King used to deeply favor the older two princes, but then one day he started favoring Prince Cairo more and more. He'd delegate quite a few tasks over to Prince Cairo's side. That probably makes the older two princes jealous. But, well, it doesn't really matter to us, Miss. The fight for the throne is just for us to watch. No matter what happens, everything will stay the same. You'll still be my Miss, and I'll still be your maid."

Maria smiled brightly. I wondered if she could tell the bile threatening to rise up inside my mouth.

Nothing will be the same.

The King is dying. When he does, the kingdom's entire structure will change. After all, a nation needs a leader, and I don't believe any of the princes are ready for that responsibility.

If either Prince Omar or Prince Finn becomes King... there is no way they'll let Prince Cairo live.

In turn, they won't let me live, either.

But if Prince Cairo becomes king...

What then? What becomes of him? Of me?

Of whoever or whatever he becomes on some nights?

I reached up to touch my head and, when I pulled my hand back down, found that I'd pulled out several strands of hair in one swipe.

There's no helping it.

I can't change whoever becomes King. The only thing I can do is find out how to protect myself. And the only way to do that is to find out what is wrong with Prince Cairo.

And negotiate.

I took a deep breath.

There was no love in the Palace. Maria had said that Prince Finn and Prince Omar had been deeply favored by the King, before this favor had switched to Prince Cairo. I didn't believe that he had done nothing. After all, as a mere concubine's son, he would have had everything to gain and nothing to lose.

And no matter what would happen in the fight for the throne, I didn't believe that I would be safe out of his liking, loving, or anything of the sort.

A deal was needed. But before I could do that, I needed to find an upper hand.

But what upper hand? How many times have you lurked around the Palace and almost gotten caught? How many times have you almost died? How many more times will you test luck before it kills you?

But what other choice do I have?

I don't want to die.

I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die. What should I do? What can I do? What would Khale do, what would Mama do? Is there anything to do? What if anything I do just makes things worse? Should I stay put? Pray? Do nothing? Can I do nothing? If—

A knock. Loud enough to echo into the room.

I turned to Maria, watching as she shuffled to the door.

"Are we allowed to have visitors tonight?" I asked, hushed.

Slowly, she shook her head. "Not that I know of."

I leaned back into my pillows. "Tell them that I'm tired, and am about to fall asleep," I whispered. "Under no circumstances will you let them in. Understood?"

"Understood, Miss," Maria said, eyes firm.

That is, she looked very firm until she took a deep breath, turned and opened the door.

The next moment—

"Shahzadeh Cairo!" A squeal, followed by a scream, followed by a thud — Maria's surprise curtsy had reached the floor. "Welcome."

"Is Aliya awake?"

Absolutely not. "Yes! Miss has just finished eating dinner, and is only resting. Please enter."

I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling.

Maria, you are utterly unreliable.

Maria's eyes twinkled as she grabbed the still-full silver dinner tray and said, "I will go and return this to the kitchens, Shahzadeh. Please keep my Miss company."

The door closed with a bang.

I closed my eyes again. Khuda, tonight... I ask for a temporary death.

Footsteps drew close to the bed. With every thump, thump, thump, I could feel my breaths growing sharper, harder to take in.

There was always that innate feeling of a presence when someone was hovering over you. "Are you pretending to be asleep?"

"...I had been trying to," I said, finally, looking at his chin. "But I hadn't realized I would have a guest."

Prince Cairo chuckled. "My apologies. Would you be willing to accompany me tonight?"

"You've come to my room, Shahzadeh," I said. "Is there a way for me not to?"

"You can ask me to leave," he replied, and I didn't answer.

Speak of the devil and he shall come; how could I dare to make him leave now?

"Can I sit on the bed?" he asked.

"Please, make yourself comfortable." I couldn't help but laugh. "Everything here belongs to you, anyway."

"Not everything," he said, smiling. "But I'm glad you think that way."

He leaned back against the headboard, while I busied myself with straightening the corners of the bedsheets, the pillows, the curtains — doing absolutely everything possible not to look into his eyes.

It was a different feeling knowing that I was looking at a Prince and looking at the future King of Persia.

"You eat quite little."

"What makes you say that?"

"When your maid took out the dinner tray, it seemed full," he said. "Is the food not to your tastes?"

"It's very much to my tastes," I scoffed. "Only, she took it out before I could eat any."

"Oh?"

"It's due to your presence, Shahzadeh," I said, turning to look at him. "She becomes nervous in front of you."

"She wants me to accompany you."

"How could I dare to have your presence for accompaniment?" I muttered.

There was no reply. And then—

"You have beautiful eyes," he said, suddenly.

I blinked. "Pardon?"

"Your eyes; they're beautiful."

"Most people would disagree, Shahzadeh. It's a loathed trait. Sign of a sin, or a criminal."

"Or the sign of heaven."

"What, like a star?"

"Stars are quite commonplace, don't you think?" he laughed. "When Khuda made you, he cared more about the moon. One day he took it in his hands and," Prince Cairo stretched out a hand and tapped my eyelids, "put them there."

For a moment, I felt breathless. "You're a big believer in religion?"

"Certainly. Aren't you?"

"Only when it's convenient," I said. "If there was a God, I think it would be easier."

"It?"

"The world." I turned my head to look at him. "If gods were merciful, do you think they would put us here?"

Prince Cairo stared at me, then smiled. "Tell me, then, why do you think we are here?"

"Karma," I chuckled. "Retribution. I must have done something horribly wrong."

"Then perhaps the world right now is redemption," he said. "A chance to have a better life somewhere. Is that what you're hoping for?"

"No," I whispered. "I wouldn't want retribution. I'd like for life to end right here."

For a moment, it was silent.

"The weight of the world is hard to shoulder on one's own," Prince Cairo said. "Believing in a god makes it easier."

"In what way?"

"For one," he said, "for one, perhaps a god wanted me to make these mistakes. Ruin things, break things apart. Perhaps it was their decision and not mine."

I stared at him. "A cowardly answer, Shahzadeh."

Prince Cairo laughed. "Cowardly men make cowardly answers," he said, "and desperate boys make stupid choices."

If I was anyone else, this would be the perfect time to make Prince Cairo open up — about his feelings, his thoughts, the demons inside his soul and the devil I couldn't figure out. But when the words should've come out, they stuck to my throat like mud.

I had never been good with emotions.

"Shahzadeh—"

"Cairo."

"Pardon?"

"Cairo," he repeated.

"Why did you come to my room tonight, Shahzadeh?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Is saying my name that difficult for you?"

"Names have power, Shahzadeh. Yours, especially."

"Power, is it?" he asked. "Or do you still refuse to trust me?"

"Pardon?"

"Why do you refuse to allow me to get close to you, Aliya?" he whispered. "Why do you still not trust me? Tell me— what are you afraid of?"

I cracked.

Everything. I am afraid of everything.

Never calm for even an instant.

"Nothing," I whispered.

"Lie," he said, closing his eyes.

"It's the truth."

"Second time." His eyes opened. "I don't advise a third one."

Our eyes met. For a long time, neither of us spoke. Somewhere, a distant bell rang, signifying the end of dinner time.

"Why did you come to my room tonight, Shahzadeh?" I whispered. "What are you searching for in me?"

Slowly, Prince Cairo smiled. "Comfort," he said. "Because you and I are the same."

"We are every part as different as one can become."

"Wrong. There is nothing different about us." He reached out to touch the side of my cheek. "Your eyes and mine are the same."

I couldn't tell whether I wanted to recoil or lean closer. "I don't understand."

"Aren't you tired, Aliya?" he whispered again. "It's tiring to be so lonely, isn't it? But you don't have to be. Stop searching for answers that will only make everything worse. For your own good, I will remind you— live pretending as if you know nothing, Aliya. And life will be better for you."

He was so close that I could feel his breath on my lips, scorching hot. "Cairo," I said, "what is it that you know that I don't?"

"Too much." He caressed my cheek. "And it would be better for it to stay this way."

"Why?"

"Believe that I can protect you, Aliya." He leaned in closer, and his lips brushed against mine, the feeling of fire following closely in its wake. "And if you continue to look further, I don't know if I can."

"What do you need to protect me from?" I asked, breathless.

He chuckled. "Why are you asking something you already know?"

The hand on my cheek slid down to my chin, and pulled me close.

It was a story I would tell my future children, and one that I would constantly reminisce.

My first kiss was given to a Persian prince.

one of my favorite chapters i've ever written (maybe because they've finally kissed).

i just checked and aliya will probably end in... maybe 10-ish chapters? brace yourself folks <3

KAY ©️ 2022.

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