Threads of Gold

Two | دو

He thought to reprieve the audience of their sorrow after their beloved Badshah passed less than half a week ago through his pacifying statements. Only fools would have believed this assembly was to lighten hearts when it was simply one part in the ploy that was the pursuit of the Sherquli crown.

The kingdom had been in mourning for the past three days. It was a relief for the public to be invited to the mehal and addressed. Zartasha couldn't understand why her father's death was so shocking to everyone. She was certainly ready for it ever since she turned sixteen. Death was a natural welcome.

She couldn't say she was very grieved. There was nothing malicious about the man, he had a simple soul and a compassionate character. Zartasha just couldn't comprehend why he deserved the throne more than her mother did.

Her Ami Jaan, Jahanara, was the true heir to Sherqul but her parents only let her ascend when she took a husband. Even then, her title was nothing more than Begum Jahanara, never Malka. It aggravated Zartasha when she realized that fiery and keen women would never be given the same field to play in as even the most substandard of men.

All this time people had deluded themselves into thinking that in the early years of her father's reign, it was him making the decisions and passing the laws when it was actually her mother's hukmarani and intellect. Badshah Rana Fahim loved his wife and appreciated her too, but Zartasha found failure in the way he would smile at people's praises of him when they should've been commending her mother instead. The world had become too comfortable in stealing from women and for that, Zartasha had no qualms in stealing the world for herself.

Alas, her father was dead and change would come because the saying rang true; like mother like daughter. She would be Malka.

When she looked back towards the front of the courtyard, Furqan had taken Noman's place and was preaching something along the lines of prosperity and moving forward in unity from hardships. She had a strong inkling as to what he was referring to and knew that it would only be a few moments longer till she needed to make her entrance.

Amongst the throng of the golden-skinned Gulzaani people, there was a flash of light brown skin and a shadow of black robes. There was someone other than Zartasha eyeing Furqan in the crowd. For a slightly varying reason, too. He came masked with the purpose of fulfilling his master's wish. Darting through assembled groups of the public and constantly switching his location to get a clearer spot for better aim, the assassin was waiting for the moment the next leader of Sherqul was announced, so he could swiftly end them then and there.

He was Kalthuran and if it was anything the kingdom of Kalthura was good at, it was defeating the competition. However, the mistake on both ends - Sherquli royal court and Kalthura - was the failure to realize that their competition was Zartasha. And she was vicious.

Furqan was coming to what he thought would be the conclusion to the evening, "We ask you all to remember Badshah Rana and all he did for this mulk." Not anything special, Zarasha thought as she almost reached Hashim and Labib. Furqan continued unenlightened, "But also remember that he would want us to strengthen ourselves after him, and continue growing. To do exactly that, I want to make an announcement: Sherqul will soon be led by-"

The assassin in the crowd stretched his arrow tighter, as the time of the hit was closer than ever.

Furqan paused when he felt a pat on his shoulder. It was Zartasha. His eyes widened, and his confusion was apparent, perhaps it was all those long years in council and his compelling wisdom that stopped him from questioning his own shehzadi in front of all of Gulzaan. Noman and Hashim had similar reactions. Labib had a century's load of worry buried in his sigh of apprehension. The heavy surprise in Furqan was the reason behind his compliance because when Zartasha's eyes narrowed and poison lined her saccharine smile, he stepped back and quietened.

Zartasha was a sight, standing in front of her people, claiming her crown, "Me. Zartasha Fahim bint Badshah Rana Fahim will be the successor and sit on the Sherquli throne. InshaAllah." In garments of bleeding crepuscule, adornments and jewellery like the shattered sun, she was weaving a narrative like no other from threads of gold.

Everything after her announcement was faraway noise to the foreigner. He did not expect something such as this. It was unheard of, crowning a woman on her own. The concept was bizarre to him, his practiced hands stopping the arrow he was less than a breath away from loosing at her words. He was unsure and that was a first because, in his line of work, there were no moments that could be spared for doubt. However, he couldn't risk his master's wrath if he went through with what he was instructed to do and if that wasn't what his master saw as best anymore. Zartasha had changed things she wasn't even aware of. And so Owais fled. The Maghrib azan resounded behind him, chasing him all the way to Qalmazar.

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