A rapid series of changes followed the independence of the Al-Yauzhan people from the Enyan empire, most notably the formation of Al-Yauzha as a massive empire of its own—
"Noor!"
Noor looked up quickly, placing the book aside. She grimaced at the sight of the tall, frowning woman in front of her.
"What are you doing? We have to perform now, where is Haqiya?"
Noor pursed her lips. "How do I know where Haqiya is? I'm not her keeper, Nazrat," she said sullenly.
Nazrat glared, her dark eyes narrowing. "You're her friend. Go get her!" Without waiting for a response, she whirled in a flurry of gold and beads.
Noor huffed, rolling her eyes. She sent a longing glance at the book she'd just set down and stood up, smoothing down her skirts before walking out of the room.
Leave it to Haqiya to disappear just before an important performance. That girl—
She collided into someone, jolting back harshly.
"Ya'Neqer!" She cried, regaining her footing. She jerked her head up, glaring at whoever had bumped into her.
It was a boy—or man, rather, tall, lean, and admittedly handsome, dressed in a white servants' kurta and pants. His kurta was buttoned fully, till the neck, which was probably uncomfortable. He was blinking hard, rubbing his head.
"Watch where you're going!" She snapped.
The man looked up. "Excuse me? You're the one who—" He heaved a deep sigh, visibly calming himself. "I apologize. I hope you're not hurt."
Noor blinked, somewhat taken aback. "I'm not. Are—are you?"
He shook his head, the tip of his mouth quirking up. "No. I suppose we were both lucky, then."
Noor's eyebrows drew together. "I suppose."
The man grinned fully then, showing even white teeth. His cinnamon-colored eyes twinkled. "Are you a dancer?"
Noor pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin slightly. "Yes."
"Then," the man said, smiling, "Allow me to say you look very beautiful."
"Oh," Noor muttered, looking down. To tell the truth, this was one of the best outfits she'd ever worn. A skirt that went till the floor, covered in gold beads and sequins and the bodice, similarly adorned in gold beads, stopping a good four fingertips above her navel. The shimmery, gold dupatta draped around it finished the dress.
She looked up, realizing the man was still watching her. "Thank you."
He smiled graciously. "The truth must be spoken."
Noor's face was burning. She cleared her throat. "I apologize for bumping into you, but I really must be going now."
He nodded, clasping his hands behind his back. "Of course. Before you leave, would you mind telling me where the dancing hall is?"
Noor looked him up and down, taking him in once more. "Are you new?"
He bobbed his head once. "I have not been here in a very long time."
"Ah," Noor said, "I see. Will you be there? Serving?"
He grinned. "I will be there, yes. In fact, I really should be getting there now."
"Well," Noor said, turning, "If you go down this corridor, then take two lefts, the second right and one more left, you should reach." She gestured at the nearby hallway and turned back to the man.
He smiled. "Thank you. I do apologize for keeping you."
"It was no problem," Noor said, shaking her head.
"Perhaps I will see you tonight," the man said. He gave her a bow, bringing his palms together. "Goodbye for now."
Noor brought her palms together as well, dipping her head. "Goodbye."
He smiled and walked away briskly.
Noor started, realizing she'd been staring. She turned, rubbing her head. What was she doing? She was supposed to find Haqiya.
Someone tapped her on the shoulder.
She whirled, only to see a shorter woman standing in front of her, hands on her hips.
"Haqiya!" Noor exclaimed. "Where—"
"Where have you been?" Haqiya cried, her eyes wide. "Nazrat is furious!"
Noor grimaced. "I went to find you!"
"Never mind that!" Haqiya scolded. "We have to go, now! And—you still have to do your hair!" She took Noor by the hand, and together, they raced down the hallways.
Noor held her skirts up and quickened her pace. Ya'Neqer, when Nazrat was furious, she was furious. They'd all been on the receiving end of her shouts at one point in time. It was not pretty.
They reached their rooms, Haqiya pushing Noor down into a seat in front of a mirror, hands gathering Noor's crow-black tresses instantly.
Noor sat still as Haqiya twisted her hair, pinning her hair up and shoving sparkling gold pins into it, mirroring the twinkling stars in the dark sky. She grimaced when Haqiya pulled her hair rather sharply, but chose not to say anything about it.
Finally, Haqiya stepped back with a sigh. "Done. Let's find Nazrat now."
Noor nodded and stood up, glancing over herself in the mirror. Their outfits were always flattering, but this one really brought out the bronze glow in her skin. It was easily her favorite out of everything she'd worn as a dancer.
"Come on!" Haqiya scolded, pulling her by the hand.
Noor followed her through the mass of dancers, some chatting, some running through the routine. Then, she spotted Nazrat, barking orders at some unfortunate souls. She grimaced, slowing down.
"Nazrat," Haqiya said, stepping forward. "I found her."
Noor shrunk as the full force of Nazrat's glare turned upon her.
"Where," Nazrat said slowly, "In Datya's name were you? "
Noor winced. "I was looking for Haqiya. I...couldn't find her."
"Obviously."
"Sorry!" Noor said, raising her eyebrows. "I didn't do it on purpose."
Nazrat huffed. "Fine. Now, go over the routine, we have to leave in a few minutes. This is an important one, don't mess it up."
Noor nodded, and she and Haqiya retreated to another corner of the room. Noor watched Haqiya run over the routine, mentally going through the steps herself.
"This is exciting, isn't it?" Haqiya said, after a few minutes.
Noor raised an eyebrow. "I don't see how."
"The Rajkumars are returning! Noor, things can change now," Haqiya said earnestly.
Noor scoffed, folding her arms. "I highly doubt things will be different. If anything, the Rajkumars will be just like the Maharaja. Or, rather, like Sher Rakim."
"Or they could be like the Royal Consort," Haqiya said lowly, touching her forehead and her throat the way they did whenever they mentioned someone who had passed.
"I highly doubt that," Noor said. "The Royal Consort, bless his soul, passed too early to have an influence on them. No, the Rajkumars will be just like the rich nobles. Maybe even like Sher Butnam."
Haqiya shuddered. "I highly doubt that. I think they will be better."
Noor shrugged, and they left it at that, Haqiya practicing the steps while Noor leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.
Rajkumar Vikram Sha'aram, heir to the throne of Al-Yauzha and Rajkumar Fayyaz Sha'aram were finally returning to the palace after twenty years studying and training in the Jaisled academy, the most prestigious university in the city.
It was common knowledge that they'd been sent away after the death of the Royal Consort, Iyan Sha'aram. The Maharaja had changed after his beloved Consort had passed. It was rumored that he'd sent away his sons because he couldn't stand the sight of them, leaving the rest of the palace to suffer the cruelty of the nobles who influenced him.
"Start moving!" Nazrat's voice blared through the area, making several girls flinch.
Noor gave a sympathetic look to a particularly unfortunate boy who'd knocked over a vase, leaving water all over the floor. She glanced at Haqiya and they took their places in the line. They were about the same height.
The line moved quickly in a blur of gold, the girls' skirts and boys' pants making hushed noises against their legs. They talked quietly as they walked through the hallway, making their way to the durbar.
Noor could feel the anxiety in the air. No one wanted to mess up what was arguably one of their most important performances. And everyone wanted to see the Rajkumars, to see if they would be better than their father.
They reached the doors of the durbar, and Nazrat stopped and faced them all. "By the grace of Paishi, we will all do well tonight." She glanced at them all. "It's time."
She turned, nodding at the guards, who pushed open the doors.
Noor filed in with the rest of the girls, the crystal chandeliers and turquoise stones inlaid in the walls coming in sight first, and then the people.
Several noblemen reclined at the front of the room, their wives watching from the balconies above. Sher Butnam was one of the nobles watching from below. Sher Rakim was there as well. The Maharaja was in the centre of the room, sitting straight-backed on his glittering throne, looking as old and tired as ever.
"Those are the Rajkumars," one of the girls whispered, gesturing at the two men dressed in beautiful, embroidered kurtas on either side of the Maharaja. "The one on the left is Rajkumar Vikram, and on the right is Rajkumar Fayyaz."
The men were undeniably handsome, no doubt the cause of the tittering of the women and men around them, but something else took Noor's breath away.
The man she'd met in the hallway, dressed as a servant, was Rajkumar Vikram Sha'aram, heir to the throne of the Al-Yauzhan Empire.
His eyes landed right on her.