Threads of Gold

Thirteen | تیرہ

So he kissed his teeth and said, "You are aware that there is no place for you other than here now, you are mine and marriage will only be proof of this fact."

The chauvinistic claim took her back, it was so male in nature that her inhale was shaky. This disparaging scrutiny and pressure was what she had escaped from in Sherqul. Now, she could not bear another taker for her soul.

Suddenly unsure, she breathed, "Why are you keeping me here?"

The Malka-to-be even followed with a tilt of her head. Watching his shehzadi hurt in front of him, the Sultan briskly whispered his next assault.

"Where will you go instead?"

The supreme ruler of Kalthura's statement was heavy and it made Zartasha think about how alone she truly was in her yearning to attain the Sherquli throne, like all humans were alone at birth and in death with only a holy essence guiding their hearts if they were lucky.

The soon-to-be Malka also knew it was imperative that she carve her own luck so she continued playing the Sultan while he thought he was playing her into naivety.

Seeing the fight come back into his shehzadi, Arzam was delighted at having to stoke her fire. If his lifetime of estimating when another was going to give in had any credibility then the flare of ghussa in her eyes was a telling sign she would end up in a marriage with him soon.

"If this happens," she loudly stated in sharp syllables, "I'm never kept waiting, and never kept in the dark. I shall always remain aware of what will happen around me."

He wore a knowing smirk before saying, "Of course."

Zartasha raised her pointer finger to make clear the deciding factor of his dreams becoming a reality. "And with this union, you do not gain a new sovereign state. Sherqul does not gain a Sultan or a Badshah or a ruler of any kind from your brethren."

She let out a harsh breath and continued making her demands before he could get a word out, "I, however, will gain my birthright - assuming my husband would be willing to lend his help in securing my lands."

Her voice became a sticky syrup, sweet and discomforting. Arzam was a mad man because he enjoyed discomfort so he enjoyed her every word.

"If you are willing to gain a husband that is?" His jesting manner did not sit well with Zartasha. She had perspiration budding on her forehead, she was about to make a life altering decision. It was a rattling thing hence why the Malka-to-be had no time for meandering.

At first, she did her best to maintain a sense of calmness in her tone, "Before all else, tell me that you agree to what I have said."

Arzam combatted her almost instantly, "Why don't you tell me that you agree to marry me first?"

That simple sentence was all it took to release the shehzadi's pent-up fears and stipulations and desires upon the king of kings standing in front of her.

"I will not be denied of my whims! If I wish to set fire to the world, I promise you it will burn and burn and burn till you taste ash on your tongue."

After her yell, a slow grin widened the cut of the Sultan's mouth.

To ensure she was decked in glory and gold, he had to bring her closer to him with a crude thread of his support so he hoarsely whispered, "What I want to taste on my tongue is you."

The bronze flecks in his eyes sharpened into a wicked gleam and the curve of his lips was nothing short of pure insanity as he enunciated, "Jala do."

The Malka-to-be knew in that moment that his fate was as much sealed as hers, with his lovesick manipulations failing against her. But the fact still remained that now both of them were in a sick game of power, esteem, and regalia together. She would be damned before she let him take it all away from her. She would be damned before she let him take herself away from her.

✸ ✸ ✸

Looking at the intricate motifs staining the back of her hands, Zartasha thought of how it did not take long for the Sultan to arrange their marital affair for it was the following night that was set to be the time of their nikah. After this sky bled into wisteria and ink, then would come the eve of her wedding as decided upon by Arzam.

It was midday when the shehzadi was left with wet limbs, rust leitmotif flowers blooming with life in the centre of her palms. Their blushing tale was continued by the vines entwining up to her elbows, the vivid patterns only cutting off at the sides of her feet.

The mehendi that decorated Zartasha Fahim's arms and soles was a telling sign of her being a bride, more so a shahi one.

Her air was a harsh spirit of spiced cloves since it was their steam she had been warming her fingers upon to darken her henna's stain. A tradition. One of the only few the shehzadi had allowed Sultan Arzam Hyderi during their vicious heart to heart the past day.

He was shocked to know someone as vainglorious and charming as her would demand a hushed ceremony. No ruckus, no hubris. It was upon later pondering that he understood she was saving those for the period after their marriage.

The soon-to-be Malka would show her hand when the time called for it. As of now, she had to look the part of the Sultan's bewitching bride.

With one glance at her face in the mirror in front of her, she pulled the corner of her upper lip into a reassuring curve and called for the female Kalthuran servants to enter her room.

It was time to get ready, once again. For the same purpose as before.

✸ ✸ ✸

It was twilight in Qalmazar when there was a quiet in the mehal that could only belong to new, fragile feelings and ties.

The wedding procession the supreme ruler of Kalthura led into the Hyderi mehal was another practice Zartasha had begrudgingly allowed. The man boastfully circled his own home on his horse before coming to steal his bride from her current abode. That was another marker of her fate, Zartasha realized that life had recently made it so her only home was him. Being married to the Sultan or not, the fact did not matter one bit.

After they had verbally accepted the marital bond with the qazi as their witness, the couple sat facing one another with a barrier made of threaded roses in between. The fragrant curtain separated the Malka from the Sultan so staring at him until her gaze unnerved Arzam enough to lower his eyes and cease his blatant ogling of her bedecked self was her only past time during the contained festivities.

In the space between the garlands, she saw the vertical cut of his face and him matching her eyes. Sultan Arzam Hyderi raised his brows whilst quirking his mouth into an honest grin for her. His following words were mouthed but they were only a quiet version of what the entire Hyderi mehal was chattering excitedly, "Nikah Mubarak."

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And they're married! Did you pick up on the ode to the first chapter?

How was it? What are you hoping will happen? What did you like the most?

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