One Thousand and One Nights

viii

The kingdom of Marash was not notorious without a valid reason.

As the guards dragged Scheherazade out of her room, she realized the extent of their strength. They resembled the grand statues that decorated the castle; cold and unforgiving.

Scheherazade was screaming, kicking, scratching. Doing anything to break free from the bruising grip on her wrists.

A queen does not scream. A queen does not beg.

"I want to see the king! Take me to the king!"

But those words meant nothing as the guards took her down a flight of stairs, then another and another until the walls were as bleak as the starless night.

You are not weak, Scheherazade. Stop this.

A push made her feet step over each other in the darkness, her cries and insults dying on her tongue as her mind slowly took reins.

The king was playing her all along. He was only waiting for her to give him enough information about the rebellion so that he could take precautions. A new source must have shown up and replaced her.

But what about this morning?

Predators play with their prey.

The guards shoved her into a round room with only a small window on the other side. It was not big enough to fit a body. The floor was dirty, the smell of metal and blood poisoning the air.

This is where they kill all the brides.

When the impact of death hit someone full force, it shut down their ability to think logically and drowned them with rapid waves of what ifs.

What if I had escaped?

It scorched them with the fire of every insecurity that haunted them.

You have always been a disappointment.

And finally, it tried to find solace in the barest positive outcome.

At least you will die a queen.

Somebody shoved her to her knees, another grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked it back painfully until her head was facing the ceiling.

"What a beauty. Not a hag like the last one." A guard sneered.

It took every ounce of her willpower to not spit on his face. She focused on the most important detail instead. Her hands weren't tied.

"No wonder the king was satisfied." He continued, his fingers trailing across her skin and for a moment, she was in the dim room of the brothel, trying to suppress the shivers that threatened to spill her tears.

"That is enough, Nadim."

One of the guards stepped forward, taking out a dagger and unsheathing it with care.

Her chances were so, so slim. It was most likely that she would die than live to see another sunrise.

There were three guards in the room, two of them getting ready to restrain her and the other preparing to kill her.

'You could have had a worse fate." The man with the dagger muttered. Something close to sympathy coating his words.

And all hell broke loose.

Scheherazade was like a wild animal, pouncing on him and sinking her long nails in his skin.

"Get her off!"