Dead Girls Tell No Tales

f i f t e e n

"AKH IS PREPARING HIMSELF for another seige," Anwar says this morning, polishing the copper and bronze reins of his horse. The creature rests its head on the bowl of his hands, neighing in soft approval.

The sun's golden rays are drowning the earth in warm ecstasy, and the night is a patient lover waiting to catch a glimpse.

It is one of Shahrazad's favourite moments, watching the dimming light fade behind sand dunes.

However, Laleh had excused herself in the early blushes of the dawn, possibly conspiring. She has been indulging in the quiet whispers of the palace of late, demeanour detached and passive.

It is all the more disconcerting.

Finding hardly likable company in Farha, she headed to the stables earlier. The King's elder brother is quieter recently, slipping into the shadows more often, and it scares her. It confirms all the slithering voices calling out the rebellion, and she isn't ready.

Perhaps she never was.

"Does he expect another attack?" She asks, eyes wandering outside.

He straightens his spine, posture stiffening, and it is all too familiar to his brother's. Their similarities are jarring, the same hysterical laugh, the radiating wrath, and that hint of softening rarely. "Shahryar isn't a fool, Malika. He knows more than you believe."

"And he told you this?"

"No," he answers, strong shoulders sloping like the sagging mountains. "But I can see it. He has never been more vigilant."

Shahrazad pets the horse slowly. "I don't think that the rebels are right."

Her chest constricts. She's defending him, and in turn, defending the killings, the murder, the blood. In all her years, as raw as they might be, she has never sided with killers. Irrespective of their backstory, they do not deserve pity.

Shahryar definitely does not need reasoning to be a villian.

But he is.

Anwar says, after several seconds of deliberation, "Me neither."

She takes in his profile, the slack, inexperienced, yet determined cut. He is alike to his brother in so many ways, yet so different in others. His lust for the throne is sharp, but his loyalties lie with Shahryar. It's strange, his sense of loyalty, and she wonders if it's because he is affected by the madness in the palace too.

"You knew about the curse," she states factually, "But you never told me."

He tightens his grip on the reins, gaze roaming. "I didn't think you needed to know."

"Why?"

"Because of this," he retorts sharply, pointing at her. "You wouldn't hate him, as you don't now, and we would not be able to continue with our cause."