The Serpent's Veil

Light of Midnight

This was the pilgrimage caravan of the royal family.

Ж

It was time to depart.

As Yahya al-Barmaki's magnificent white horse wove its way through the crowd, he watched the horizon. All around him the men were loading up the supplies, the Emir's were shouting out orders, and the women were gathering their children, but he could hear none of it.

When he laid eyes on the girl at the souq, it was like water stilling to silence.

Amongst the washed out colours, the blinding reds and yellows, she was a relief to his eyes. A bright, striking blue. An oasis in the desert.

He had beheld many beautiful women, but none with such a disarming gaze as hers. Her eyes were gems that reflected the harsh rays of the sun, turning them into something soft.

Yahya smiled to himself. The Prince would be pleased.

Ж

Now dressed in a more innocuous black abaya, Khaya sat in a covered cart squished between two younger girls. They could have been Salsal's age. The air in the cart was stifling and bubbling with heat from the other warm bodies, but it was bearable.

In the five minutes she had been sitting there, she had already learnt many things of note. The caravan was carrying a colourful variety of people, from maids and servants like the girls she was with, to Emirs and members of the royal family. In addition to the generous number of servants, the caravan had a contingent of soldiers to protect from raiders and highwaymen. At their current speed it would take approximately three weeks to reach the capital.

*She needs a moment to grapple with the situation, she's in the ROYAL caravan!! Was this luck or destiny? Was it lucky or even more dangerous?*

Khaya was more interested in the girls chattering around her. They talked animatedly, hardly noticing her presence until Afsa spoke up.

"Girls, say hello to Khayzuran, she is Emir Yahya's new maid."

And suddenly everyone's eyes were on her.

"Hello, Khayzuran," they chorused, with a few mispronouncing her name.

"Mashallah you are so pretty! Isn't she such a beauty?" one girl chimed. The others nodded in agreement and began showering her with compliments. Despite herself, Khaya blushed and covered her face with her hands.

"Thank you, usually I wear a veil."

"And so humble! Our Princess could take a few pointers from you, Khayzuran." Afsa laughed.

"The Princess?"

Before Afsa could answer, another girl cut in, "Princess Rayta, the Beast of Baghdad."

A chorus of laughter shook the cart.

"I don't understand... is she ugly?" Khaya asked, lost on the joke.

The girls shook their heads. Afsa said, "No, the name has nothing to do with her looks, just with her nature."

"She's always scowling, and loves to argue," another girl added.

"Forget that," Afsa exclaimed, "I have heard her and the Prince arguing, she was shouting for more than an hour straight!"

Khaya looked bewildered. What kind of Princess was this? And what kind of strange tumultuous relationship did she have with her husband?

"Now you see why we call her a beast." Afsa laughed.

Khaya's open mouth pulled into a smile, though she did not care much for their line of conversation, and the girls began another cycle of guffawing. After a while a sense of calm silence filled the cart, and some of the girls began nodding off to sleep. Khaya swallowed, her dry mouth tasting sour. She hadn't eaten in the morning in the rush of getting ready for the souq, and barely had a morsel for dinner the previous night. Now her stomach was twisting, begging for nourishment.