Badriya as-Sahra is sick of piling up camel dung and picking people's pockets for a living. Her world discriminates against women and orphans, and it is only her damned luck that she happens to be both. She yearns for more but can't do anything else...
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Of all places in the Golden Palace, the dungeons were the only ones Ayaz never really stepped foot into, truth be told. He didn't have a reason to visit this part of the palace. But now, he hoped his first visit would be the last for what he was about to do.
Ayaz wore a simple black vest over a white tunic, and a matching sirwal. His curved sword hung on his belt, the blade sheathed inside its sheath.
Today, he was no slave hunter, a crown prince and soon-to-be-crowned-Sultan. Today, he was judge, jury and executioner.
Ayaz took his time walking through the tight corridors of the dungeons. Unlike aboveground, the air in the dungeons was cool, though one would notice the stink reeking inside more than the oddly comfortable temperature. He let the echoes of his footsteps and the rise and fall of his breathing fill his ears.
It had been three days since Shahrayar was dragged into his prison. Three long days of deciding the right to execute his father. It should've been a simple decision; he had been waiting for this day for so long that he already knew what to do with Shahrayar.
And so Ayaz weighed on the possible choices: a public execution through hanging or beheading, or a torture in the dungeons.
None of them resonated with Ayaz, which was an odd way to put it but still. A public execution in the city square felt too... public. He didn't want his people to witness a death when they'd already suffered enough nightmares-even if the cause of their suffering was the man to be executed. This was a personal matter, and Ayaz only wanted no one but himself to see it through.
But the torture didn't sit well in him either. Ayaz might be a killer, but hearing his father scream in agony or seeing him get whipped and beaten wasn't anything he looked forward to. Shahrayar killed Bilqis without hearing her side, verbally abused Ayaz for years on end, and nearly took Badriya's life. Those crimes might justify the use of torture, but Ayaz wanted to get rid of him as soon as possible. The sooner he was gone, the lesser chance he had to hurt anyone else.
Ayaz stopped by the end of the last hallway, letting out a deep sigh. His eyes traveled to the man occupying the dark cell, schooling his features into a blank look.
Shahrayar, former Sultan but forever Ayaz's father, had his wrists and ankles locked in iron cuffs, the chains connected to the walls. Even when his father had been reduced to a mere prisoner, now wearing nothing but his tattered robes, he wore his proud sneer whilst he sat on the floor as if he were in his throne. The torches on the walls made sure Ayaz saw every detail of it.
Ayaz gestured for the guards posted nearby to open the cell. Two of them stepped forward. One of them took out a set of keys and unlocked the bars.
"Leave us," Ayaz ordered.
The two guards, along with the rest standing in attention, marched away. Only when the guards left did Shahrayar speak.
"How are your days as the new Sultan?" Shahrayar asked, his voice hoarse yet mocking. "Is the country already in shambles? Do you need me to step in and help your useless ass?"
