The Sultan's Daughter (Princesses Uncovered #5)

Chapter 45: So Gullible

Yaz slipped down the stairs, avoiding the guards.

She’d done this sort of thing often when she wanted an excursion to the market. Well, okay, not often since one or two times couldn’t be often, but she knew how to do it.

Gafar was upstairs in their chambers, asleep and staying that way for hours to come because of the drugs she’d slipped into his wine when they dined in their rooms.

She rubbed her belly absently as she waited in the gloom.

Soon, little one… Soon we will have our vengeance upon those who have hurt us… So very soon. We’ll have Cemal back, and you’ll grow up with a true father. Not that sorry excuse of a man laying back in our chambers sleeping off the alcohol and drugs he’s consumed.

She had taken to this habit of speaking to her unborn baby, whether mentally or aloud. She didn’t know why, but somehow, it helped her to keep her sanity. Made her feel as though she wasn’t completely alone. Made her feel she had someone to confide in instead of the darkness.

A guard marched past, and as soon as he was gone, she slipped from the darkness, the black of her cape fluttering gently in her wake, her overskirt rustling ever so quietly.

She was going to see some of the citizens of the city. She knew that not all were pleased. She’d seen some angered faces in the crowd at her wedding, and she was counting on their willingness to help her.

She’d found out who they were – discreetly, of course – and asked one of the servants who was loyal to her, and who also knew the men, to put her into contact with them. Now she was meeting them in an abandoned warehouse.

Perhaps it was a bad idea. They were capable of taking advantage of her helplessness and doing whatever they pleased to her or with her. But she had no other choice, and she was desperate.

Akila and Fath hadn’t come to her rescue yet, and she didn’t know when they would. She had given them the date of the official announcement of her pregnancy, but she didn’t know if they were going to be able to do anything for her, so she was taking matters into her own hands now.

Fifteen minutes later, she was out of the palace and stalking the gloomy streets, the darkness in them foreboding and thick. But she did not pause or quake.

She was done with fear.

Done with cowering.

She was as strong and unflinching as the night itself. She had no fear of it or anything else.

Well, no fear but the fear in her that she might lose Cemal or the child she carried.

But those were her only fears. And both of their lives were in her hands. So she was in control of that as well.

The abandoned warehouse was a few streets away from the palace, and her steps rang clear and unhurried on the cobblestone path as the warehouse loomed over her, the building rickety with numerous holes to allow the wind to howl through the building, making it seem as though the building were moaning in mournful agony.

A man stood in front of the door to the warehouse, and when he saw her, he motioned her to come closer.

She lowered her head, allowing the hood of her black cloak to shield her face. Only her deep black curls tumbled out of the cape, the only thing apart from her slight frame that indicated she was a woman, not a man.

The man whispered in a gruff, scratchy voice. “Name?”

“It is the Princess Yazmina.” She whispered.

“Show your face.” The man commanded.

She lifted the hood from her face, the moonlight striking the high angles of her cheekbones in the shadow of the building. “Satisfied?”