Sidratul Muntaha

Chapter 85🌱

Bismillahi Rrahmaani Rraheem•

Assalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuhu•

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"Jibreel."

A whisper broke his peace and he started. No one used that name for him except for her and the voice that had whispered it, wasn't hers. His family had the habit of calling him Muntaha normally, until and unless they had a point to make to him. The handful of people who knew this name didn't use it in the open and the one person who used this name on his demand wasn't present here.

The whisper was feminine and he didn't want to deal with women right now, except for one. He sighed in defeat though. He had to deal with who ever it was so they could leave him in peace. He turned.

The air felt scented to him. It was heavy on his senses. He frowned. Why had the air changed within the span of some seconds? He shook this thought away and lifted his eyes to see a young woman standing before him shyly. Her long lashes lifted and revealed the bluest eyes he had ever seen and then they dropped back as if she couldn't bear to meet his eyes for long. Her unveiled face wanted to stir his heart. She had a hint of smile on her face.

"May I help you?" He questioned. She had tiniest of frowns itched on her forehead at this question. She had expected a much more beautiful reaction than a dry question. Why wasn't he looking enchanted? "May I help you?" Muntaha enquired again. She became speechless. She had planned the interaction to go much smoother and had no answer to this question because she hadn't thought he would ask that.

The scent was wreaking havoc on Muntaha's senses, yet somehow he held himself together. The air felt like it was cajoling him into being affected. It was pushing him to walk towards her in abandonment. It was pushing him to sit down before her and ask her what he could do for her smile. He stopped breathing for a while. Something was wrong with the air. He watched the young woman before him carefully. Her arrival had changed the very air around him and he knew that she had something to do with it. He took a small breath and stopped again. The senses cleared a little to let him think properly.

"Ah!" Salwana muttered. What could she tell him now? "I-" She stammered. "I am Salwana bint Salman, the princess of Anazirah." She uttered in helplessness. The scent wasn't working on him for some reason. She had banked the rest of their interaction on the assurance of the scent of compulsion working on him. Her mother's perfumes had never failed her before. She saw Muntaha's eyes widening taking it for delight.

Muntaha's senses cleared in a heartbeat. Before him stood a possible threat. What was the princess of Anazirah doing in Ghazdaan? Was this a plot of some kind? Had she been sent here to complete what was left incomplete by the assassins? His mind was whirring with questions. He decided to wait and enquire rather than derive conclusions based on his own thoughts.

"What are you doing here?" He asked her sternly.

"I wanted to meet you." Salwana answered plainly with lowered eyes. His surprise had given her hope. "I had heard about you long ago and wanted to meet you since then. So when the caravan began from Anazirah. I snuck in and journeyed here."

"You snuck in?" Muntaha questioned incredulously. "Doesn't your parents know you are here?" He asked.

"No. They wouldn't have allowed me to leave." She answered gently. He inhaled deeply to keep himself from exclaiming angrily. The person before him was naive. He could read that. She was treated with nothing but luxury and was pampered so much in her home that she had no grasp on her reality. She had no idea about what she had done with this action of hers. It was a momentous action.

He assumed that she had always been given what she had demanded from her family. For once they had not given in to her wishes and she had set out to fulfill it on her. Her stubbornness astounded him. She had travelled from one kingdom to another, just so she could meet him, a man she never knew. He suspected more than just genuine curiosity behind these actions. Her way of handling herself before him, graceful and shy, painted a clearer picture before him. Her unsaid words were very clear. She liked him and that was why she had gone behind her people to meet him. If he was someone else, he would have actually been flattered at the length she had gone for him. Not just anyone could have the guts to let go the luxuries of their life and take the arduous journey full of inconvenience just to meet the person they liked and maybe tell them about their feelings. But he wasn't impressed. Her actions had given rise to many complications for them. He was sure the King would know of her disappearance by now and he must assume to the very least that the caravan that left for Anazirah without informing them was responsible for it. Adding to the mixture Amiza's disappearance would give rise to displeasure in the King's heart for them.