IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT, the sound of faraway crickets chirping seemed alarmingly loud, much more if you consider the fact that there would be no chance of finding a cricket anywhere within the Palace walls.
"It's not like you to want to go to sleep so early, Miss," Maria said slowly, standing on the foot of the bed.
"Don't think too much into it," I said, as dismissively as I could, leaning back on the headboard. "I'm just tired. It's been an eventful day."
Maria smiled, smoothing out the wrinkles on my sheets. "The garden party? How was it, Miss? Did you have fun."
In the back of my mind, the sound of Prince Finn's laughter — loud, boisterous and incredibly hurtful — echoed in a volume so loud I could've sworn I felt it rattling my skull, so loud I was sure Maria was wondering whether Archaem was being hit by an earthquake. "To an extent, I suppose."
"What did you do, Miss?"
"We just played a few games," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "There really wasn't much to it."
Maria hummed in lieu of a reply, gently tucking in my blanket.
"I can do that myself," I said, trying to pull the fabric away from her, but for such a small person, she had an incredible amount of strength in her little body, and my blanket remained firm within her grasp.
"It's my job, Miss." Maria continued to work, wrapping me in layers upon layers of fabric. "Allow me to do this part. What kind of game did you play?"
"A round of shooting; or, rather, a few rounds," I answered, "I wasn't very good at it, though. I've never shot before."
"Which is normal, Miss," Maria responded, "didn't you say you care from Babylon? Shooting rounds are very frequent in Archaem, but quite rare in other cities."
The words had been spoken in a very carefree manner — and why wouldn't it be, when the words she was speaking were very much true. Still, as I started to recline, I couldn't help how I stilled.
"That's not true," I said, "some people in Babylon do shooting, too."
What was the point in telling all this to Maria, I didn't know. Perhaps I was simply being overly sensitive to this topic; not because of her, but because of the incident earlier this afternoon.
Or, rather, maybe the point of all this wasn't to tell Maria, but rather to tell myself.
She paused for a moment. "Yes, of course. My apologies, Miss; I hadn't realized I'd said something wrong."
What an observant girl. And how easy I am to read through, it seems.
"No, you didn't," I said. "It's normal."
Maria remained silent for a few moments more, silence enveloping the room and ringing deep into my ears.
I took a deep inhale. "It sounds like it's going to rain; Maria, you don't need to watch over me tonight. Go sleep in your room downstairs, the one with the fireplace. Make sure your windows are closed tight."
Hearing my words, her eyebrows furrowed. "Miss, you don't want me to accompany you tonight?"
"It's not necessary, no," I said, looking up just in time to meet her eyes head-on.
Over the period of time I'd stayed in the Palace, and the period of time that I would continue to stay, it seemed that Maria would never forget to remind me how naive her facial expressions was; even if she was trying, it was easy to spot the apprehension on her face. "Miss..."
"Don't worry," I told her, "I won't run away. Where would I run away to, anyway? I haven't tried anything these past few months. I'd just like to sleep alone tonight. Ismal won't scold you; you don't have to worry."
I wasn't sure if Ismal had notified Maria of my first escape attempt, but by the way her shoulders relaxed, I was relieved to guess that chances were, he hadn't — one of the few and only things he had ever done in my favor. "Go downstairs, Maria, and sleep early."
Again, she hesitated. "If you're sure, Miss."
"I'm sure. Go ahead."
Maria nodded, quietly slipping to the door, but just as I thought she would walk out of the room, she stopped. "Miss?"
"Yes?"
"Is everything alright? You've been a little off since this afternoon," she said, her voice small but echoing dangerously loud against the walls.
I paused again.
Perhaps, for a moment, I'd forgotten to take ahold of myself, because Maria soon spoke up again, "If there is a problem, Miss, I could call Miss Mariam for you. Or you could talk to me, if you'd like. I don't mind listening to you talk, Miss; you have a very soothing voice."
I looked up.
Backlit by streaks of moonlight streaming in through the window, Maria's tiny body cut a small, lonely silhouette against the backdrop of a too-large, wooden door.
I frowned.
She's spent her whole life in this palace; how little she is, and how little she must know of the Palace, much less of the world.
"No," I whispered, "nothing's wrong. The game was just exhausting. Although some people in Babylon do shoot on occasion, I've never done it before, and I didn't realize it would take so much of my energy."
"Oh," she said, the stiffness in her hands relaxing. "Alright then. Sleep well, Miss."
"Sleep well; don't worry about me leaving, Maria. There's nowhere for me to go, anyway."
The door shut with a loud thunk.
There was something to be said about the infrastructure of the Palace — not that I had expected anything less of the home of blue-blooded nobles, but it seemed that even after all this time, I wasn't quite as used to it as I thought I would be.
After all, the doors and walls back home were thin, and at night I'd be kept awake by the slight sound of a stray cat skittering across the roof, or the sound of people walking outside the door — there was no such sound here, in the Palace, and I couldn't help but find the profound silence eerie.
One, two, three...
Four, five, six...
Seven, eight, nine...
Ten.
At this point, Maria should be going down the stairs.
As quietly as I could, I got up off of the bed, messing up the perfect tuck Maria had put in so much pain stacking effort to achieve.
"Tonight, come have dinner with me once again. I'd enjoy the company."
I bit down on my tongue, trying to mask the way I'd almost choked on my own saliva. "Pardon?"
Prince Cairo continued to smile, his gaze too firm and too steady for me to meet directly. "Tonight, I'd like you to come have dinner with me."
His choice of words were diplomatic, but completely ironic, and brought about a feeling that was much too unpleasantly similar to earlier that afternoon — his words were phrased as a question, but there was absolutely no way I could've said I wouldn't have liked to come have dinner with him, thank you very much.
"Ah," I said, "where we had dinner together a few weeks ago?"
"No, somewhere else," he said, "I've realized that the dining room might be too big for just us two. You live in the West Wing, correct?"
I nodded, even though we both knew my confirmation was, really, unneeded.
"Towards the end of the hallway are the staircases leading up and down the third floor. They're quite curved, you see, so you might not see it at first, but there's a little door hidden under an alcove near the stairs. Just go in through that door; we'll have dinner over there."
At this point, I couldn't help the slight furrow on my forehead. Perhaps it was just me, but my mind was severely warning me that his instructions sounded eerily similar to what one would imagine a serial killer would say.
"What if the door is locked?"
"It won't be," he answered. "It's not a place most people know. Come over at nine; the staff is usually done with the second floor by then, and they won't discover you. Other than them, I'm the only one who holds the key."
"Ah," I drawled out, nodding once more. I prayed that I was doing a good job at seeming unaffected, even if my mind was racing to find a tangible excuse that would allow me to melt into the grass burning the soles of my feet.
Maybe if I just didn't say yes, I could say I had a headache and fell asleep?
"I would appreciate it if you would come, Miss Aliya."
Prince Cairo let out another small smile, and under the sun, with his eyes squinted and lips crooked, there was an odd, off-put feeling welling up inside of me akin to looking at a laughing child.
"Yes, Shahzadeh."
There was no need to inform Maria of this; not when I knew that the little girl (because she was little, a fact I was continually reminded of every single day, and hopelessly lost in what seemed like her own delusions of what love with a prince would look like) would certainly fuss over my outfit, my hair or my currently non-existent kohl; all, sadly, unnecessary things to wonder in the grand scheme of me fussing over my life.
Or, at least, that's what I thought before Maria walked out of the room.
But now, as I slipped out my bedroom and huddled down the hallway in nothing but my nightdress and an woolen coat thick enough to hatch chickens, I couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, her constant chattering would've distracted me from the sound my heart made each and every time it slammed itself into the corners of my rib cage.
She really did begin to grow on me, no matter how much I detest little children.
The hallway on the second floor was windowless, covered with old paintings and handwritten poems with words from languages I didn't understand, so it should've been no surprise that the area would be completely, absolutely silent, especially considering the fact that, not only had I walked through these hallways three, four dozen times in the past few weeks alone, but also because I'd snuck out my room through this very hallway two too many times in my admittedly disappointing career as a concubine hopeful.
And yet, there was something about the way the tiles felt against my feet and the way I didn't have to hide in between the shadows of the walls as I walked that had something to do with the way the blood rushing through my arms and the way I was breathing all seemed a little bit too loud.
And it was remarkable to note just how loud it got the closer I walked towards the staircase.
"Towards the end of the hallway are the staircases leading up and down the third floor. They're quite curved, you see, so you might not see it at first, but there's a little door hidden under an alcove near the stairs."
"There really is one," I mumbled, wincing when I realized how even that small statement bounced off the walls and echoed back into my own ears. "But of course there is; what else was I expecting?"
This was exactly what I had expected, but so far away from what I had hoped that I had to let out a small smile.
"I should probably go in."
However, as I reached my hand out to touch the small, black doorknob, I couldn't help but pause.
Although I'd never quite finished school, I didn't think I was that slow, and at this point in time, I would be terribly, terribly stupid not to realize that Prince Cairo's personality seemed to switch as drastically as day and night, according to the principles of day and night. I wasn't quite sure why — though I was certainly going to try and find out in ways that would no longer have me killed — but it was either he was an incredibly good liar, or something else was wrong in this Palace, something else that I hadn't quite been able to pick up on.
But that's not the important question right now. The question is whether he'll be convinced to try and murder me tonight, or let me off to see another sunrise tomorrow.
And somehow, I had a gut feeling that I knew exactly where he would lean to.
With dread pooling up in the bottom of my stomach, I opened the door, trying to stop the bead of sweat threatening to trickle down the side of my forehead.
Prince Cairo had mentioned the fact that the door was not a relatively popular place amongst the staff, and the condition of the door, with old wood and a slightly chipped door knob, proved it.
Still, I didn't expect the squeak of the hinge to sound so much like the fall of an executioner's blade.
KAY ©️ 2019.