Drawing in a deep breath, Abbas popped open the wax seal and slowly unravelled the letter written by his deceased friend. He was sat in his study, the setting sun casting a golden glow behind him as it retreated behind the horizon. He had been afraid to read it again, afraid that the truth of it all would sink in. Their friendship was a lie.
You were my brother.
His eyes glistened and his chest constricted as he read over those words. It all made sense, why Abbas knew so little about Junayd, despite opening up fully to him. He was a fool to trust so easily, to not question anything.
Faris Ibn Al Khalifah
Upon reading his uncle's name, his tears evaporated. Abbas read Junayd's confession thoroughly, and again once more. His uncle had denied all the claims made in the letter, refusing to even speak a word to anyone, despite his previous outbreak and attempt on Haifa's life. Abbas had already confirmed with Harun that the letter was indeed written by his friend, but if Faris did not talk, then they could not do anything. Especially if their father was not willing to push his brother further.
There was no denying that Faris had suffered a great deal. He had lost both his wife and child. But his grief consumed him, blustering into anger, hatred and jealousy which only deepened when Abbas' father was chosen to succeed the throne.
The devil's whispers enticed him, his mother had told him and Harun when they were boys, confused and hurt that they were no longer going to be living with their uncles and cousins. But now he knew the truth; his uncle would do anything to take the throne even if it meant harming his own family.
Abbas pushed his chair back. He would confront his uncle himself. If Haifa were here, she would have stopped him, but she would not be returning until later on.
The guards saluted him upon arrival and led him to the cell that held his uncle. He scoffed at the site of his uncle casually lounging on a long majlis which Abbas was sure had not been there before.
"My dearest nephew, how kind of you to visit," greeted Faris.
"I am not here to play games," Abbas seethed. "I'm here for answers."
At this, Faris slunk down even further into his majlis.
"Was Husaam one of your spies?"
Faris sighed deeply and turned away.
"And his brother, did you plant him beside me just to kill me?"
His uncle remained tight-lipped, making Abbas boil with anger.
"Did you really poison Thaina, your neice, so she would not bear an heir? And Baba?"
Faris smirked.
Abbas, unable to control the inferno of anger soaring through his blood, jumped onto his uncle and grappled him to the ground.
"You belong to the lowest scum of Earth!" he spat, pinning Faris' arms which tried to swing at his face.
"You should be grateful Baba has decided to spare your life!"
"No," interrupted a voice. Having recognised full well who had entered, Abbas leaped off his uncle who was huffing away as he tried to catch his breath.
Abbas brushed the dust off his tunic and found his veiled mother and Harun by the cell door. His mother was frowning at Faris whilst Harun directed an unimpressed look at him.
"Your brother may have spared your life, but you will continue to live with shame upon your name, rotting in this cell until you take your last breath,"
Faris did not respond, nor turn their way.
"Your final judgement will be decided in the court of the Most Just," Humayra added, before she turned on her heels and departed.
Abbas, still scowling at his uncle, was yanked out by his brother who whispered in his ear as they stormed out,
"You are prohibited from coming down here by yourself again."
Faris, who was waiting intently for the sound of footsteps to fade off, pulled out a tiny piece of rolled parchment from his sleeve. Having read the few words scrawled on it, he popped it in his mouth and swallowed it whole, all the while snickering to himself.
***
Having left the confines of the Palace walls meant that Salma could breathe again. Her nerves had still not settled ever since the breakfast with the Princess, even after Haifa had explained to her that the Princess was only messing with them both. But Salma could not shake off the feeling that there was an ounce of truth behind the Princess's word.
"I do not feel comfortable to have one of your people as my handmaid."
Salma did not blame her for not trusting anyone yet, but she could not trust the Princess just as much. Was the Princess part of the ploy to take her back to Rughaad too?
"Salma?"
Salma turned to the voice and found Yumna giving her a concerned look.
"Habibti, I think you may have overstuffed that pouch," she said, her features softening into a smile.
Salma looked down and found her bag bulging with sweet treats. She gasped and emptied out the entire bag, cheeks burning in embarrassment.
Salma gave her an apologetic smile and begun refilling the cotton pouch with goodies again. She and Haifa were spending the day at Yumna's to prepare for Diya and Khalid's upcoming Nikah ceremony, and Walimah feast that followed thereafter. Today, they were filling little pouches to gift to their guests. The sisters had excused themselves upstairs to arrange outfits which left Yumna and Salma on the easy task of filling duty.
Yumna smiled to herself once more. It had been almost four months since the passing of General Abdul Hameed. Yumna was coming to the end of her grieving period, and yet Salma noticed Yumna never expressed a sentence, let alone an expression of her sadness to anyone. It concerned her daughters but their mother constantly reassured them she was fine.
"Is there something on your mind Habibti?"
Salma glanced up and shook her head as she grabbed for another cotton pouch. There were a lot of things on her mind, things she couldn't tell Haifa, like how the other Palace maids did not trust her still let alone speak to her, except for Meera and Umm Qasim, or how she felt uneasy with the fact that Faris was imprisoned on Palace grounds. And then there were her nightmares, of her past in Rughaad, and of Husaam.
She hated herself for still thinking of him. He was dead, punished for killing the husband of the woman infront of her. She hated him, for lying to her, using her, and then saving her. She tried to convince herself he was an evil person, but she owed him so much, for saving her life not once, but three times. He was not all evil; not towards her anway.
She never got to express her gratitude, and she never would. He was gone.
Salma tried to gulpe down the lump that was forming in her throat.
"If the Princess is causing you much distress, I can ask Haifa to let you stay with us," Yumna suggested, her eyes focused on her hands.
"I appreciate it Khala, but there is no need. The Princess isn't bothering me, she does not leave the Harem often," she answered. It was true, the Princess had not ventured round the Palace much, and as Meera narrated, was occupied with her lessons.
Yumna nodded. "How is Palace life? It must be a nice change from here,"
"Alhamdulillah," she replied.
"I hope Haifa is not working you too hard,"
"Not at all!" Salma gasped. "In fact, there isn't much to do now with Sahib Abbas back, and Sahiba entering her final months of pregnancy,"
Yumna sighed. "I tell her not to work herself so hard when she comes around, but I'm guessing she does so only because Abbas is not around to stop her,"
Salma chuckled. They continued on with filling the pouches, a comfortable silence settling between them.
"Do you have wishes of finding a spouse?" Yumna asked, breaking the silence.
Salma's lips pressed into a thin lin. The thought of her almost-marriage to Jafr resurfaced, and she shook her head.
"Not at the moment, not after the whole Jafr situation," she said, her heart clenching at the memory of Husaam disguised behind the bushy mustache and beard. She never would be able to ask him why he did that for her.
Yumna, having noticed her reaction, paused. "Forgive me, it was inconsiderate of me to mention it,"
Salma gave her a sad smile.
"Oh no, I think we have run out of mixed nuts!" Yumna exclaimed, sifting through the sacks strewn out in front of them.
Salma leaped up from her cushion, already wrapping her hijab tightly over her hair and face. This would be a good time for a break, she thought to herself.
Since Haifa had taken her in at the Palace, she had not ventured much out into the city during her days off out of fear of running into the likes of Jafr, or worse, her foster mother. Salma accompanied Meera sometimes on urgent tasks, faces concealed, but this would be her first time going alone.
"I will bring some more,"
***
Dalia had not stepped foot out of the Harem for days, but now that she had completed her lessons, she found herself eager to escape her safe confines and immerse herself in the buzz of the Palace. And yet, as her feet touched the cool marble tiles, she remained cautious. The King had not visited for a while, occupied with the deteriorating health of his father. But oddly she wished to seek him out, even more so when Meera had informed her that he was currently with the Queen.
However, the more she delved deeper into the Palace, the greater her reluctance to being there. She found her confidence wavering the more she noticed the eccentric looks directed at her, despite having worn her face veil and draped a scarf over her head as taught. Back in Rughad, she would have never let the servants get away without a harsh reprimanding, but she hesitated now. Here, she was but a concubine to the King. Her status would be determined on her bearing the next heir to the throne.
Meera had informed her of the Queen's infertility; a vulgar act of revenge committed against her. Dalia knew the responsibility now fell on her but she couldn't even imagine bearing a child! What confused her greater was that the King had made no haste in intimacy. Although she was grateful that he hadn't, it made her wonder if it was because of a lack of attraction towards her. Back in Rughad, she was the most sought bachelorette, which made her the apple of envy. As her mind scrambled through these thoughts, she had almost not heard the Queen calling for her.
"Ameera Dalia,"
She turned towards the direction of the voice, and found the veiled Queen making her way towards her.
"Is something the matter? What brings you here?" Thaina asked. She had just returned from seeing her father-in-law with Harun, who had decided to stay back and converse with his mother. They had told her about Abbas' unruly visit to Faris, and were discussing how they planned to keep her uncle there long-term. Musa was still investigating into the possible numbers of Faris' following. No doubt they were planning his release.
Thaina's question felt like a pinch to Dalia. She knew she had not been around recently, but was she not allowed in the Palace? She had not even been able to visit her newly done-up room yet after the tour with Haifa and the Queen.
Dalia felt the urge to snap a reply but she swallowed back the fire on her tongue.
"I was looking for Haifa," she replied.
"Haifa is away visiting her family," Thaina explained, looking to Meera for answers.
"I shall-" Dalia started, but was interrupted by a voice behind her.
"Sahiba is looking for the Malik. He has not visited in a while-" the maidservant confessed, making Dalia's fists curl. She had not expected Meera to expose her intentions so readily, especially when she had become fond of the girl's loyalty to her.
"Ah, the Malik is occupied at the moment-"
"Nevermind, I will head back to the Harem." Dalia interjected, glaring at Meera as she turned on her slippers.
Thaina pressed her lips as Meera shrugged her shoulders before following after the Princess. She sighed, knowing full well her old maidservant would hear an earful from her lady.
The moment the Harem doors shut behind them, Dalia whisked round on her heels.
"Was it necessary to inform the Malika of my intentions?" she hissed, tugging off her face veil and scrunching her shawl up in her fists. She threw the cloths on the floor between them.
Meera, who was apologetically lowering her head, fumbled for an excuse as she picked them up.
"I thought, since they were last seen together, it would be easier to find the Malik rather than searching the whole Palace-"
"You humiliated me in front of the Malika! I could have easily found him myself!" she roared, aware that they were drawing in attention.
Her maidservant, who was of the same age as her, began to tremble.
"Forgive me Ameera, I was only informing Malika-"
But Meera's pleading only fuelled Dalia's anger. The other servants around the Harem all paused in their tasks, having her the commotion. They all gathered around the courtyard, whispering to each other as they looked on.
"Of course, I should have known! You were previously her servant. What else are you informing her about?" Dalia demanded, her voice now echoing across the expanse.
Her maidservant began to sob.
Dalia scoffed.
"This is why I can't trust any of you," she spat, looking at all the bewildered faces of those around her. "Don't think I haven't heard all your whisperings."
"Ameera-" one of the other servants stepped forward.
"Leave! All of you!" Dalia boomed, to which they all listened, scuttling away from her as they exited the Harem doors. When their footsteps were nothing but a whisper, Dalia fell to her knees. She began to heave, her eyes watering with emotion. She cradled her trembling hand, grasping onto the coolness of her mother's ring. The image of the amber rooftops resurfaced. Oh how she wished to find comfort in it now, but she couldn't be seen returning to the Palace in this state. What if she ran into the Queen again? Or worse, the King.
A cry escaped her lips, echoing across the eerie silence. Dalia clasped a hand over her mouth, not wanting the maidservants outside to hear. She was sure they were all listening in intently, mocking her, and sharing the news around the Palace.
The longing for home hit her. It tore her heart, tore her confidence. It confused her.
Why was she here? Why did it have to be her?
It has to be you that goes to Balqaas. She remembered, the odd softness in her father's tone.
Despite Dalia's ambition in earning her father's trust, she hated him for placing a burden on her, for tasking the impossible to her. How was she to fit in, earn their trust when none were loyal to her?
Dalia lifted her head, and suddenly the silence felt suffocating. The only sound that accompanied her was her own ragged breath. She felt a pang of longing - for him, then her ego trampled on the thought.
Back in Rughad, when it all became too much, Dalia would escape out of the Palace walls to clear her head. Her eyes widened, and suddenly she became filled with excitement, but then she recalled one of the rules her teacher had instructed her about. Just like in Rughad, she was not allowed to leave unless she received permission from the King.
But just like in Rughad, she would sneak out disguised. Dalia contemplated calling for Meera, and instead decided to search the servant's quarters herself. The Harem maidservants had their own residences separate to the main palace's, which could be accessed through her private chambers, which she had seen Meera go to and fro. Changing out of her extravagant wear, she slipped on a beige cotton kamees with coordinating trousers, hoping to blend in with the servant's attire. Then she dowsed her face in water to remove the kohl, and tightly wrapped a matching shaila over her knotted braid.
She had entered upon the servant's quarters easily, and was lucky to discover it unoccupied. Rightly so, since it was early afternoon, and they were all out preoccupied with their tasks. She searched the corridors and found the laundry room opposite the bathing spaces. Inside, the washed clothes were neatly folded in a pile, whilst the worn were soaking in a pool of soapy water. Dalia was sifting through the pile for something of her similar size, when she sensed movement behind her.
"Come out," she commanded, slowly turning around.
The individual, who had ducked behind the soapy pool, stepped out. It was Meera.
Dalia's eyebrows furrowed. "What are you doing here?" she asked, then remembered she was the one sneaking around.
"Ameera! I-I came to seek your forgiveness, but couldn't find you," Her handmaiden pleaded, falling to her knees. "Please forgive me for my insolence!"
Dalia sighed.
"Is there anything I can do to seek your forgiveness Sahiba?" Meera continued, rubbing her palms together in front of her.
A thought struck Dalia in that second. She had still not yet familiarised herself with the layout of the Palace, and to sneak out, she would need someone who knew. Someone who knew the exits to the Palace, and their way around the city center.
Settling down by her, Dalia placed a hand on Meera's shoulder and smiled. Her handmaiden looked up at her pleadingly, and for a moment, Dalia felt a spark of guilt gnaw at her. She and Meera were the same age. Had they been born into different circumstances, could they have been friends?
"I will forgive you," she started, at which Meera's eyes began to sparkle with hope.
"If you help me leave the Palace."
Glossary:
Majlis - Floor cushions
Baba - Father
Habibti - Love/Sweety
Nikah - Marriage ceremony
Walimah - Marriage feast
Umm - Mother (of)
Khala - Aunt(y)
Alhamdulillah - Thank God
Sahib - Lord
Ameera - Princess
Malik - King
Malika - Queen
Sahiba - Lady