Wazaer doesn't take me by surprise. It is just what I imagined it to be: profligate and ostentatious. The Maleki Fort is huge and like a warren maze. There are servants in almost every corridor with eyes lowered and readiness to serve.
The room I'm allotted is big. It is almost the same size as my own chamber in Faraesi. There are windows that allow me the view of the garden that is green and full of different kinds of plants. The big is king sized and the furniture is fancy yet simple.
My sisters are in the rooms next to mine. The men were led into a different building, probably one with the important figures from the other kingdoms. Politics.
I walk towards the windows and stand there, inhaling and letting the smell of fresh flowers enter my nostrils. I had been feeling a little tired after bathing, maybe because of the long journey that we took to reach Wazaer, but the whiff of greenery leaves me reinvigorated and yearning for more.
Without giving much thought, I grab a long shrug and put it over the sleeveless lavender gown that I'm wearing. I don't even look in the mirror to check my appearance, patting my hair just a little to put any misbehaving hair strand in its place.
I take help from the servant girl who leads me to the garden and leaves when I thank her for it. The place is even more beautiful from up close. In addition to flowers and fruits, there are herbs that I have never seen in my life.
Trees older than my ancestors stand tall and broad, some even supporting swings on their branches. I take my galesh off and begin to stroll on the grass that makes my sole tickle. Giggling, I softly touch a Jasmine and bend down to get a sniff of its fragrance, failing to notice the plant of roses that is too close to my left. As I lower myself, the sleeve of my shrug gets stuck on a thorn and I hear it ripping loudly.
I gasp, quickly freeing the cloth and managing to tear it more. My right arm is left nearly bare but I clutch the torn sleeve and place my left hand on it.
Suddenly, I hear faint masculine voices approaching and that is all it takes for me to run, as fast as my feet allow me. I rush through the hallways, not even caring to see in which direction I'm headed.
I stop when I'm breathless but not before making sure that there's nobody around to witness my state of clothing. “All I need to do right now is to find a female servant and ask her to help me.”
Saying this, I start tiptoeing around, trudging like a ghost that is on a mission to scare someone. But I push the funny thoughts away, focusing on the task in hand.
I take a left turn and realise that the corridor stops at the entrance of a chamber. Slapping my forehead, I'm about to retreat when I hear footsteps advancing in my direction.
Not left with any other choice, I enter the territory unknown, completely aware and guilty of the fact that I'm trespassing.
Luckily, I find nobody inside and I take the chance to examine the expanse of the space. It is enormous in size. So much bigger than the room I'm given, and heavily luxurious. A grand chandelier made up of pearls is attached to the ceiling right above the bed which is massive. There are pillars inside decorated with silky curtains that give way to the balcony.
I hide myself under the bed, crawling and lying on my stomach. I wait for a few minutes, ensuring that the footsteps are gone. I peek outside and finding no trace of danger, I crawl back and stand up only to realise the mistake of not looking in the other direction of the bed.
Behind me, I sense someone's presence. Someone with an aura that's already intimidating me even though I haven't seen the person yet. My brain orders me to run but before I can respond to it, I’m pushed against the nearest wall, my back touching the concrete. The hand that I had used to cover my arm is now twisted behind, along with the other one. A tall figure towers over me as I see eyes greener than the grass I walked on just a few minutes ago staring down at me.
Thick eyebrows hover over his eyelids, his skin tone pale as snow and a hint of stubble grazing his high cheekbones and continuing through a prominent jaw to meet at the square of his chin.
“Who do you work for?” he questions, his voice gruff.
When my face gives away my befuddlement, his grip on my wrists tightens, making my chest rise up to brush his. With my feet devoid of my galesh, I feel even shorter in front of him. “Speak,” he growls as he becomes impatient, “or your tongue will be fed to the dogs tonight.”
Who is this man?
“I'm not a spy,” I speak firmly.
He scoffs.
“Typical,” he mocks and I frown at him.
Seriously, who is he?
“Let go of my hands,” I let out a snarl with gritted teeth.
He doesn't budge. Instead, he keeps his piercing gaze fixed on mine. I want to look away but the thought of cowering in front of him is not something that my ego can handle. Therefore, I growel right back at him. I am not backing down before he does.
My hands move with difficulty in his hold, my fingers itching until they touch the cold hilt of my dagger. I had fastened it while leaving my room, with the ribbon that held my gown, keeping it just in case of an emergency.
I push my knee upward, taking him by surprise as it hits his torso. He doesn't stagger but it's enough for him to lose his hold that I make use of and push him.
It is his turn to be pushed against the wall and I take a good advantage of it. Bringing the tip of the dagger close to this throat, I smirk. “Not smug anymore, yeah?”
His focus shifts from my face to my arm that lays exposed, the sleeve now completely gone. “Look away,” I command but to no avail.
He leans against the wall and watches me, studying me from head to toe. “I said look away!” Frustration is evident in my tone that makes me even more annoyed with myself and the situation.
“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” he points towards the dagger.
“Quiet! You're talking to a Faresi princess.”
I expect him to straighten up and apologise but his orbs grow dark as he presses his lips in a thin line, his tongue poking his inner cheek. He looks mad but still in control, even though it is I who stands tall with a weapon in my hand. Does my position mean nothing in front of him?
Out of nowhere, his large hand covers my armed one as he stands straight now. “Then show me what you're capable of, princess.”
With that, he presses his skin more into the tip of the dagger, causing a small cut to appear on it.
“Are you mad?” I exclaim as a small amount of blood becomes visible but his face remains stoic. Throwing the dagger away, I move forward to take a closer look but he stiffly refuses my offer.
“Let me heal you,” I attempt in convincing him, earning a frown. “I'm a healer.”
“What?”
“A healer. Someone who can fix your wound by placi-”
He raises his hand to stop me from explaining, “I know what a healer is.” He moves away and swiftly rips one of the curtains, handing it over to me. The reminder of the improper state of my dressing hits me again and I snatch the item and wrap it around my shoulders.
“Leave,” he simply speaks in authority and even though my pride wants me to not listen to him without demanding to know how he dares to talk to a princess like that, I end up obeying him. Because no matter what my identity is, I am still not in the right to be entering someone's room unannounced and unasked.
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Let's continue the story of Baksh and Alavi...
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Taming the Eagle
Fantasy"The war is going to take place soon. We need to ensure we're strong enough and for that we need your daughter on our side," Khabir speaks, his gaze shifting to land on me as I stare at him confused. I turn to look at Abi, who seems to be in a deep...
