Threads of Gold

Thirteen | تیرہ

Zartasha was heaving but she was set alight when he hummed, "I thought I made it clear in your mulk that escape from me is not possible?"

Her nose was pinched in resentment when she whirled around and spit back, "And I thought I told you that I go where I please?"

The memory he brought up was jarring. She was suddenly stranded in her own home with a predator that had come for her throat. Then, she came to learn the soldiers stationed to protect her were no longer there. Zartasha was upset but Arzam had told her something, warned her even. He had said that she would never be able to get away from him, that she would find him at every evasive turn.

She had told him, with equal fervour in turn, that if so then there will come a day where she will be the noose around his neck. "Qubool hai," had been his shameless response. Whilst recalling that evening's encounter in her gulaab garden, Zartasha realized it was time to test her words.

However, the Malka-to-be was wholly unaware of how desperately Arzam sought out her rage, the same way a serpent seeks to shed its skin. 

The Sultan wouldn't let her go. He couldn't let her go, even with her angry gaze wounding his jigar while she bucked against him to remove his tightening hand from her shoulder. His hand that came back to grip her upper body harder after she turned to face him.

The supreme ruler of Kalthura was looking at her intently, calmness a sham thing in his pulse when he knew the moment was precarious. His next words had to be indulgent enough for him to coax an appeasing answer out of his shehzadi so he stated, "Go wherever you please but know that I will be with you," he took a steadying breath before adding, "as your shadow when you need it, and as your sword when you need it."

She scoffed and lowered her brows before tearing his hopes apart. "Why should I accept your shelter and your strength? For what possible reason are you offering and for what reason should I even think about coming to you with my problems?"

Zartasha's eyes then blew wide open, ridicule heavy in her gaze when she snapped her thumb and forefinger together before answering herself, "Oh, how could I ever forget? The Sultan wants a pretty bride who will do his bidding and a new mulk, all without working for it!"

Her mouth was a mocking smile afterwards.

Then the soon-to-be Malka twisted her arm and pushed her shoulder into the wall to steer away from the Sultan, only to end up in his arms once more when she went to step aside.

His face was in serious contemplation and very slowly he asked, "Do you really think I am not working for it? Have the presents I've been sending not been to your liking?"

Appalled at Arzam's concern being limited to the quality of the gifts he was bombarding her with, Zartasha remained quiet.

He clicked his tongue before assuring her, "Well, do not worry. I will personally ensure the items that are given to you are the best of best."

At his ignorance regarding their most pressing matter at hand, the shehzadi's anger rose tenfold. "While I appreciate your disconcerted efforts to make me like you, your marriage proposal still holds no bounds."

The Fahim heir rose both arched brows to drive the point home, she hoped the Sultan's thick head would take her sentence as a marker of the resistance she harboured towards marriage.

Initially, Arzam was enraged because no one kept him from what he wanted. Nevertheless, the object of all his desires and Zartasha had become his fixation without rhyme or reason. He had to have her in order to understand the rhythm of his own heart.

Moments later he realized that for a stubborn woman like her to give in to him, he would have to lay her weaknesses bare in front of her. Then show her how he could provide her with strength. It was risky and dishonourable but all has always been fair in love and war.