Threads of Gold

By e-in-ink

157K 6.7K 4.8K

❝Where a brutal and fierce king falls for a vain and beguiling queen.❞ More

Threads of Gold
Guide
Visuals
One | ایک
Two | دو
Three | تین
Four | چار
Five | پانچ
Six | چھ
Seven | سات
Eight | آٹھ
Nine | نو
Ten | دس
Eleven | گیاره
Twelve | بارہ
Fourteen | چودہ
Fifteen | پندرہ
Sixteen | سولہ
Seventeen | سترہ
Eighteen | اٹھارہ
Nineteen | انیس

Thirteen | تیرہ

3.3K 200 271
By e-in-ink


—————

Zartasha's mind was abuzz, what she had witnessed set her blood aflame.

Her thoughts thrashed against one another, desperate and screeching. They hindered her senses but the shehzadi knew there was nothing she could do to calm the racing organ in her chest except try making it to her room before the distantly thudding footsteps behind her would make it to her.

She needed to be faster than her doom and her dirge. She needed to be swift in escaping the Sultan who seemed to embody those traits of her fate. He was the cacophonous song her soul often sang, she knew that much and it only gave her more to ponder upon.

Looking ahead at the dim corridors teeming with the teeth of gemstones embedded within their stone, the shehzadi realized she did not know her way back.

Before, Zartasha marked placeholders and monuments she would circle back to in case of the unanticipated prevailing. Before, Zartasha walked floors steadily with a poised spine and arrogance in her ribs. Before, Zartasha picked apart every word her ears would hear, turning over the syllables like one does chandi coins until the other's fortune becomes clear.

Alas, that was before him; before the Sultan's rashness made its home in her veins.

The shehzadi's jittery state would not allow her to remember where her chambers in the Hyderi mehal were. Frustrated at having to resort to sheer luck, Zartasha let out an uneven breath. With blood rushing in her ears, she could only murmur a quiet prayer before stepping into the right-most cavern. She hoped that the favourable direction would not lead her astray.

Again Arzam had stripped her to a woman of base impulse.

And impulse it was; coursing through her body but it was not the stuttering kind for she knew nothing of the language of fear. No, her body only recognized the conniving tongue of power. Perhaps that was why Zartasha felt a part of her awfully willing to accept the life Arzam had so viciously ripped into and offered up to her a few moments ago.

She could not seem to stop thinking and that was when the Fahim heir knew she was not safe until she found a place to shelter her thoughts.

With quick steps, she turned into a heavier part of the mehal. Larger jewels, thicker curtains, and richer door carvings surrounded her but the Malka-to-be's paces only widened with her feverish need to understand the Sultan's behaviour. Zartasha wanted to piece together the bits of him she could hone, she wondered whether mastering the king of kings was a thing of her fate.

At the idea, a smile snaked itself onto her face.

Zartasha soon spotted the doorway she was seeking but she paused before deciding to walk past her chamber's entrance. The shehzadi looked at the next one's threshold instead for she knew that her room was the first place Arzam would invade in his search of her. With her cautious thoughts, she quickly loosened a breath and let go of her lehenga's skirts ready to push open the adjoining chamber's door when she felt it.

A large hand on her shoulder, branding the skin underneath her blouse with its sheer weight and warmth.

Zartasha's smile slipped.

How could she forget herself in this world of men? A world where they were hiding in every alleyway, at every window of chance, ready to capture her and berate her choices. Where they were breathing down her neck, like Sultan Arzam Hyderi behind her.

"Where were you running off to?" His voice was a barely-there murmur on her throat yet she could hear the most primal form of glee in his words.

Arzam's mouth was a breath away from the shell of her ear, his proximity and happiness at having caught her ignited a loathing so deep within the Malka-to-be's chest that she seemed to be blinded.

Zartasha was heaving but she was set alight when he hummed, "I thought I made it clear in your mulk that escape from me is not possible?"

Her nose was pinched in resentment when she whirled around and spit back, "And I thought I told you that I go where I please?"

The memory he brought up was jarring. She was suddenly stranded in her own home with a predator that had come for her throat. Then, she came to learn the soldiers stationed to protect her were no longer there. Zartasha was upset but Arzam had told her something, warned her even. He had said that she would never be able to get away from him, that she would find him at every evasive turn.

She had told him, with equal fervour in turn, that if so then there will come a day where she will be the noose around his neck. "Qubool hai," had been his shameless response. Whilst recalling that evening's encounter in her gulaab garden, Zartasha realized it was time to test her words.

However, the Malka-to-be was wholly unaware of how desperately Arzam sought out her rage, the same way a serpent seeks to shed its skin. 

The Sultan wouldn't let her go. He couldn't let her go, even with her angry gaze wounding his jigar while she bucked against him to remove his tightening hand from her shoulder. His hand that came back to grip her upper body harder after she turned to face him.

The supreme ruler of Kalthura was looking at her intently, calmness a sham thing in his pulse when he knew the moment was precarious. His next words had to be indulgent enough for him to coax an appeasing answer out of his shehzadi so he stated, "Go wherever you please but know that I will be with you," he took a steadying breath before adding, "as your shadow when you need it, and as your sword when you need it."

She scoffed and lowered her brows before tearing his hopes apart. "Why should I accept your shelter and your strength? For what possible reason are you offering and for what reason should I even think about coming to you with my problems?"

Zartasha's eyes then blew wide open, ridicule heavy in her gaze when she snapped her thumb and forefinger together before answering herself, "Oh, how could I ever forget? The Sultan wants a pretty bride who will do his bidding and a new mulk, all without working for it!"

Her mouth was a mocking smile afterwards.

Then the soon-to-be Malka twisted her arm and pushed her shoulder into the wall to steer away from the Sultan, only to end up in his arms once more when she went to step aside.

His face was in serious contemplation and very slowly he asked, "Do you really think I am not working for it? Have the presents I've been sending not been to your liking?"

Appalled at Arzam's concern being limited to the quality of the gifts he was bombarding her with, Zartasha remained quiet.

He clicked his tongue before assuring her, "Well, do not worry. I will personally ensure the items that are given to you are the best of best."

At his ignorance regarding their most pressing matter at hand, the shehzadi's anger rose tenfold. "While I appreciate your disconcerted efforts to make me like you, your marriage proposal still holds no bounds."

The Fahim heir rose both arched brows to drive the point home, she hoped the Sultan's thick head would take her sentence as a marker of the resistance she harboured towards marriage.

Initially, Arzam was enraged because no one kept him from what he wanted. Nevertheless, the object of all his desires and Zartasha had become his fixation without rhyme or reason. He had to have her in order to understand the rhythm of his own heart.

Moments later he realized that for a stubborn woman like her to give in to him, he would have to lay her weaknesses bare in front of her. Then show her how he could provide her with strength. It was risky and dishonourable but all has always been fair in love and war.

So he kissed his teeth and said, "You are aware that there is no place for you other than here now, you are mine and marriage will only be proof of this fact."

The chauvinistic claim took her back, it was so male in nature that her inhale was shaky. This disparaging scrutiny and pressure was what she had escaped from in Sherqul. Now, she could not bear another taker for her soul.

Suddenly unsure, she breathed, "Why are you keeping me here?"

The Malka-to-be even followed with a tilt of her head. Watching his shehzadi hurt in front of him, the Sultan briskly whispered his next assault.

"Where will you go instead?"

The supreme ruler of Kalthura's statement was heavy and it made Zartasha think about how alone she truly was in her yearning to attain the Sherquli throne, like all humans were alone at birth and in death with only a holy essence guiding their hearts if they were lucky.

The soon-to-be Malka also knew it was imperative that she carve her own luck so she continued playing the Sultan while he thought he was playing her into naivety.

Seeing the fight come back into his shehzadi, Arzam was delighted at having to stoke her fire. If his lifetime of estimating when another was going to give in had any credibility then the flare of ghussa in her eyes was a telling sign she would end up in a marriage with him soon.

"If this happens," she loudly stated in sharp syllables, "I'm never kept waiting, and never kept in the dark. I shall always remain aware of what will happen around me."

He wore a knowing smirk before saying, "Of course."

Zartasha raised her pointer finger to make clear the deciding factor of his dreams becoming a reality. "And with this union, you do not gain a new sovereign state. Sherqul does not gain a Sultan or a Badshah or a ruler of any kind from your brethren."

She let out a harsh breath and continued making her demands before he could get a word out, "I, however, will gain my birthright - assuming my husband would be willing to lend his help in securing my lands."

Her voice became a sticky syrup, sweet and discomforting. Arzam was a mad man because he enjoyed discomfort so he enjoyed her every word.

"If you are willing to gain a husband that is?" His jesting manner did not sit well with Zartasha. She had perspiration budding on her forehead, she was about to make a life altering decision. It was a rattling thing hence why the Malka-to-be had no time for meandering.

At first, she did her best to maintain a sense of calmness in her tone, "Before all else, tell me that you agree to what I have said."

Arzam combatted her almost instantly, "Why don't you tell me that you agree to marry me first?"

That simple sentence was all it took to release the shehzadi's pent-up fears and stipulations and desires upon the king of kings standing in front of her.

"I will not be denied of my whims! If I wish to set fire to the world, I promise you it will burn and burn and burn till you taste ash on your tongue."

After her yell, a slow grin widened the cut of the Sultan's mouth.

To ensure she was decked in glory and gold, he had to bring her closer to him with a crude thread of his support so he hoarsely whispered, "What I want to taste on my tongue is you."

The bronze flecks in his eyes sharpened into a wicked gleam and the curve of his lips was nothing short of pure insanity as he enunciated, "Jala do."

The Malka-to-be knew in that moment that his fate was as much sealed as hers, with his lovesick manipulations failing against her. But the fact still remained that now both of them were in a sick game of power, esteem, and regalia together. She would be damned before she let him take it all away from her. She would be damned before she let him take herself away from her.

✸ ✸ ✸

Looking at the intricate motifs staining the back of her hands, Zartasha thought of how it did not take long for the Sultan to arrange their marital affair for it was the following night that was set to be the time of their nikah. After this sky bled into wisteria and ink, then would come the eve of her wedding as decided upon by Arzam.

It was midday when the shehzadi was left with wet limbs, rust leitmotif flowers blooming with life in the centre of her palms. Their blushing tale was continued by the vines entwining up to her elbows, the vivid patterns only cutting off at the sides of her feet.

The mehendi that decorated Zartasha Fahim's arms and soles was a telling sign of her being a bride, more so a shahi one.

Her air was a harsh spirit of spiced cloves since it was their steam she had been warming her fingers upon to darken her henna's stain. A tradition. One of the only few the shehzadi had allowed Sultan Arzam Hyderi during their vicious heart to heart the past day.

He was shocked to know someone as vainglorious and charming as her would demand a hushed ceremony. No ruckus, no hubris. It was upon later pondering that he understood she was saving those for the period after their marriage.

The soon-to-be Malka would show her hand when the time called for it. As of now, she had to look the part of the Sultan's bewitching bride.

With one glance at her face in the mirror in front of her, she pulled the corner of her upper lip into a reassuring curve and called for the female Kalthuran servants to enter her room.

It was time to get ready, once again. For the same purpose as before.

✸ ✸ ✸

It was twilight in Qalmazar when there was a quiet in the mehal that could only belong to new, fragile feelings and ties.

The wedding procession the supreme ruler of Kalthura led into the Hyderi mehal was another practice Zartasha had begrudgingly allowed. The man boastfully circled his own home on his horse before coming to steal his bride from her current abode. That was another marker of her fate, Zartasha realized that life had recently made it so her only home was him. Being married to the Sultan or not, the fact did not matter one bit.

After they had verbally accepted the marital bond with the qazi as their witness, the couple sat facing one another with a barrier made of threaded roses in between. The fragrant curtain separated the Malka from the Sultan so staring at him until her gaze unnerved Arzam enough to lower his eyes and cease his blatant ogling of her bedecked self was her only past time during the contained festivities.

In the space between the garlands, she saw the vertical cut of his face and him matching her eyes. Sultan Arzam Hyderi raised his brows whilst quirking his mouth into an honest grin for her. His following words were mouthed but they were only a quiet version of what the entire Hyderi mehal was chattering excitedly, "Nikah Mubarak."

—————

And they're married! Did you pick up on the ode to the first chapter?

How was it? What are you hoping will happen? What did you like the most?

Thank you for reading, vote and comment <3

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