Badriya as-Sahra is sick of piling up camel dung and picking people's pockets for a living. Her world discriminates against women and orphans, and it is only her damned luck that she happens to be both. She yearns for more but can't do anything else...
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The time came for the finale of the celebrations, and Badriya didn't know how to make it one to remember. She was running out of ideas, and she didn't want to disappoint the guests and the Sultan with something measly and unimpressive. The Sultana's suggestion the other day stuck with her, so she got through it even though she didn't know how to dance herself.
Soon, the night descended upon them, and guests from all over Salym flooded into the throne room. The lanterns bathed the place with lights that would make the sun jealous. The room's carpets were rolled away, revealing the smooth, gilded floor. Servants moved around and about with golden trays filled with light food and drink, offering them to those who craved something to fill their stomachs. A buzz of excitement and something more filled the air like never before.
Sultan Shahrayar indulged in his throne, a satisfied look gracing his face as he gazed at the scene in front of him. Beside him was the Sultana relaxed on a spare chair, chuckling at something the vizier whispered on her way. Finally, in black and gold finery, Ayaz stood on the other side of the Sultan, his hands behind his back, his face pinched into a tight-lipped smile.
Badriya watched all this at the corner of the throne room, where the singers, drummers, and musicians playing the qanoon, nay, oud, and other instrumentsstood. A bout of nerves turned her restless, wringing one of her blighted wrists.
Everything was perfect. She wore her finest garments yet-a sleeveless blue and white dress that hugged her curves, a matching silk scarf that hung by her arms, and golden accessories that adorned her person, including a circlet that sat over her head. All she had to do now was to call on the dancers waiting outside. But she couldn't help but think that something would go wrong, which was ridiculous.
Out of nowhere, the Sultan rose from his throne. It took a while before everyone else took notice and fell silent. Shahrayar cleared his throat.
"My dear guests." The Sultan's deep voice filled the room. "Wherever nation you come from, I bid you a great evening. I hope the entertainment brought by our generous Lady of the Moon has satisfied your thirst for excitement."
Shahrayar turned to her, beckoning her to come forward. Straightening herself, Badriya made her way to the bottom steps of the high dais. She suppressed the urge to squirm under the watchful gaze of the crowd.
"I-I would like to thank you all for coming all the way to our lovely country," Badriya said. "It's not everyday that one gets invited to the Sultan's majestic home, let alone experience a celebration worthy of festivals." She glanced at the Sultan, who was already settled down on his throne. "I dedicate this to the Sultan as a mark to his lasting rule and a symbol of the beginning of our friendship. I hope this will not be the last time we join together to create something unforgettable."
Shahrayar acknowledged her with a smirk. Taking a deep breath, Badriya turned back around to face the crowd once more.
