Threads of Gold

Fourteen | چودہ

The Sherquli shehzadi rolled her eyes and grumbled to herself once again when she realized the men in front of her had no intentions of stopping, "Oh for God's sake."

And when she lowered her gaze from the ceiling, her eyes widened upon seeing Arzam approach her. As if watching him dance like a crazed fanatic wasn't enough, she now had to endure a conversation with him too. She just hoped it wouldn't be of the romantic sort.

Zartasha's heart was already racing within her chest, somewhere the young girl in her was uncomfortable at being seated at the fore of dozens of unknown male soldiers. The only way she endured the evening was knowing the Sultan's proximity to her was far closer and stronger than that of the others, for as of a few hours ago Arzam was her husband and therefore somewhat familiar.

She internally laughed at finding the renowned brute as familiar when said man stood before her and took ahold of her hand. Her half-swallowed gasp was as audible to him as the tinkling sounds her gold bangles made at his pulling. She couldn't hide her base reactions from him even if she wanted, he would not let her. Tucking her silk adorned form under his corded arm, he smiled at the distrust in her eyes of coal. "No one here can even look at you in a manner I do not allow. You are safe."

Zartasha scoffed at his words. She was not in the den of a shair such as him to feel safe. No, she was here to conquer. Kalthura's bride turned to look at her groom, "I am fine but why do I get the feeling that I need to remind you the greatest danger to me here is you."

Sultan Hyderi let out a barking laugh in response. It was low and gritty and, as she had just stated, dangerous. When he saw the sharp glint return to her face, he decided to let her have his answer too. "I never said otherwise, jaan."

As expected the shehzadi was offended at his endearment. She found it insulting, she didn't want his livelihood. The Malka wanted his influence, his taaqat but what she hadn't understood yet was that Arzam wanted her to be his livelihood, his influence.

For now, he had to make do with watching her heave in anger. Painted in the bright shades of her emotions. Flaring nostrils and cutting eyes accompanied her harsh breathing, "Let go of me, you shameless brute."

He indulged her, "You know, you call me shameless far too often and far too freely."

"That is because you are shameless far too often. Like right now, you are being shameless."

"No, right now I am being your husband."

He grinned.

The brazen woman in surkh raised both her arched brows. With a cherry mouth and kajal lining her onyx eyes, she was the lust of his heart. "Let go of my hand right now, Sultan."

Arzam tightened his grip on her gold ladden forearm. There was something about her calling him by his title and not his name that bothered him. He knew she was not the kind of person to think of herself as inferior to him then surely she did it to irk him.

He raised his chin in provocation when she couldn't slip her arms out of his grasp. A moment later, Zartasha's face went blank then she smiled with malice in those eyes of coals. Her arm dipped to the underside of his and when she turned her palm, her nails scratched the surface of his skin. By looking at the Sultan's face she could tell he was surprised. The Malka clawed till she felt the tips of her mehendi-adorned fingers become wet.