MARIA MOST CERTAINLY WALKED fast, for she had somehow managed to push me through the doors of the dining room just five minutes before the King came in.
If he could still be considered King, anyway. It certainly doesn't seem so.
I took my seat at the end of of long, rectangular table, on a chair that was gilded with gold and, coincidentally or not, placed right next to Maryam's, and an uncomfortably close position of three seats away from the three princes.
"Where were you? Why did you come in so late?" she whispered, ducking her head close to my shoulder. "You came later than the princes!"
"Headache," I whispered back. "I didn't get enough sleep."
"Why not?"
"I don't know -- maybe I'm coming down with something. A cold or fever of some sort. Maybe a contagious disease."
Maryam's lips pulled down into a deep, hard frown. "A cold? Fever? Contagious disease?'
I nodded.
"Why didn't you just stay upstairs then? In your room?" she whispered. "You might feel worse here."
I was grateful that she hadn't said, 'You might go and infect me, too, because you came down here,' even if, in the context of the sentence, the phrase had already been implicitly said. "My maid, Maria, didn't allow me. She said that if I admitted that I had some sort of contagious sickness, then I might be sent home."
And if the outcome really would have been me being sent home, I would have gone and faked a contagious disease in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, Maria had failed to account for the dozens of physicians working in the Palace, each more outstanding and knowledgable than the rest, and I wasn't too confident that I'd be able to pretend I'd somehow been infected by some unknown, malevolent virus without being caught in the one minute it took doctors to measure my heart beat.
I didn't think that the realization that I'd feigned an entire illness just to avoid having breakfast with someone who could possibly be my father-in-law was believable, remarkable, or excusable with a pat on the back and a laugh.
Worst comes to worst, I'd be excused with the glinting edge of an executioner's blade for treason and sicrimination against the royal family.
Maryam furrowed her eyebrows. "Your maid has a point," she said. "You'd be in a huge amount of trouble if the royal family found out about your fever and deemed it to be an onslaught of a virus. Just stay here and act normal, and try to get as much sleep as is possible after breakfast is over. Although you can't miss out on breakfast with the King, you can certainly miss out on other activities with the rest of the women here... Not that you've been joining them in the first place."
I raised an eyebrow. "You're an odd one, aren't you?
"Odd? I wouldn't think so. Why?"
"Just for the main reason that most people would be concerned at the idea of their seatmate possibly contracting some unknown virus or disease," I said. "They'd be afraid of the virus passing itself over to them, whether that be from their clothes or from their food, and with this entire selection period still ongoing, I thought you'd be a little more wary of that possibility... Unless you've been planning to be sent home?"
I raised an eyebrow, and watched as Maryam almost started choking on her goblet of water — silver, and much smaller and thinner than the cups that the royal family used. "Of course not! I've been doing very well with Prince Finn. Haven't you been doing well with Prince Cairo as well? Why would you ever want to go home?"
"I never said I wanted to," I said, standing up to bow to the Princes before we began eating. "How did you know about Prince Cairo?"
"Didn't you tell me?"
"I haven't been telling you things for quite a while now."
"Right, you haven't. You should." Maryam frowned. "It's upsetting to know that I have to get my news from all the other girls, instead of my own best friend."
I raised an eyebrow.
I didn't know we were best friends.
"I just didn't have the time to tell you," I said. "I've been busy. What did you hear?"
"Just that Prince Cairo seems to have taken a liking to you," she whispered back, her voice quieter now. The King has started to pick up his food and eat and though etiquette said that none of the women were supposed to talk over his silence, by all the mouths slowly mouthing out words around the table, it didn't seem as if anyone had listened. "He's taken you on a few dates, hasn't he?"
"No." I took a sip of water.
"What? Yes, he has. At least, he already had some form of interest towards you the last time we talked. What could've happened that that interest completely disappeared?"
"I'm not sure," I said. "Focus on your food. Don't you remember that the moment the King finishes eating, all the other plates will be taken away as well? You're always complaining about being hungry. Finish your food so that you don't torment your chambermaid into sneaking into the kitchen every few hours to get you a snack."
Maryam's cheeks flushed dark, dark red. "It doesn't happen all the time," she whispered. "Just... Just most of the time."
"Focus on your food, Maryam. Prince Finn is looking over in this direction."
That did the trick — Maryam let out a tiny, little squeak, before ducking her head to stare into her bowl of fruits. Out of the corner of my eye, I could just see the tips of her ears peeking out of her hair.
They were burning red.
Quickly, I glanced up, looking over in the Princes' direction.
Prince Finn's gaze had never once landed over to Maryam and I, it instead being unduly focused on stacking layers upon layers of feta cheese onto a thick slice of Sangak bread.
I glanced back towards Maryam, and couldn't help but smile when I saw the way her head was still tucking as deeply into her chin as it could go, her eyes never straying from her spoon and fork.
It was a lie, but it did its job.
To an extent, it's probably even better if Prince Finn doesn't notice Maryam in the first place... Not that she would agree. But not that she'd know any better, anyway.
I looked back down to my plate. The butlers had already piled it up high with stacks of bread, cheese, jam and fruit, as they had for every other person in the dining hall, but no matter how fast Maryam inhaled her food and how good the toppings smelled, I found that I no longer wanted to eat.
No matter how appetizing Palace food was, there was something about the fact that it was not made in Babylon that threw me off.
Well, that and the fact that I was very much craving some curry, and there was simply no way that sort of street side, poor man comfort food would be found served for the future concubines of the royal family.
After all, they need us women here to continue their lineage. They need to feed us with good food so we don't contaminate any future, possible babies.
I bit down on the inside of my cheek, so hard that when I stopped, I could've sworn I tasted blood.
All of a sudden, the sound of a goblet thumping on the table reverberated across the room.
"What is it, Cairo?" I didn't even have to look up to know that, at this point, the man talking was the King. After all, only the most powerful person in the room had the right to speak, what more to call out the name of a member of the royal family.
Still, I didn't know if it was just me, but the King sounded weaker than how I remembered him to. More tired.
I frowned.
Was it the negotiations?
Or... Was it something else?
"Nothing," Prince Cairo said, his voice smooth and gravelly, and when I looked up across the table, his eyes were locked directly onto mine.
Vaguely, I wondered if he'd put down that goblet in order to catch my attention, and felt a shiver run down my spine.
Somehow, I wasn't sure if that was a good, or a bad thing.
"My hand slipped," he continued, glancing away to look at his father. "My apologies."
I sucked in a deep breath.
To address the King in such a manner, even as a son, even as a Prince, I still couldn't tell whether he was trying to aim for suicide.
The hierarchical system in the Kingdom of Persia was a strict, extremely disciplined one, and commanded that a King was the Eye of Heaven, the ruler of Persia, before he was ever a father. He should've been addressed with complete, total respect at every turn.
Prince Cairo dared to do what no one, not even his two older brothers, were legally and religiously allowed to do.
And, what was even more shocking, was that the King simply nodded and returned back to looking at his food.
I frowned.
Prince Cairo acts like even more of a king than his own father does...
But why?
I looked back at Prince Cairo, only to see his eyes glance down at my plate.
Did he want me to eat?
When I didn't respond, he glanced over at my food, once again, his eyebrows pulling together to make a deep frown on his forehead.
Almost immediately, I could feel the sudden weight of four, maybe five girls staring down the side of my face.
They aren't even competing for Prince Cairo. They're competing for Prince Finn and Raza.
Why are they all so desperate to marry these princes when there's something happening?
Maybe it's because only you know what's happening, a part of me whispered. And the others know how to keep their heads down and keep themselves safe and quiet.
Slowly, I looked down onto my plate, before picking up a piece of bread and placing it in my mouth. There must've been some sort of jam on it — most likely strawberry, as most Archaem jams were made of — but it tasted like ash and dirt in my mouth.
Most probably because Prince Cairo is still staring at you.
I placed another piece of bread into my mouth. Then another. And another. And another. Over and over again until half of my plate was demolished and Prince Cairo looked away, leaving my stomach aching and my mouth dry.
"This was a good breakfast." Prince Finn's voice rang out across the hall. "Don't you think, Vala Hazrat?"
"Perhaps," the King answered, his voice slow. "Did you enjoy it, Cairo?"
Prince Finn's lips tightened into a line.
"It was alright," Prince Cairo said. "I'd like to try different forms of cuisine, though. Not only the ones in Archaem."
"Such as?"
"Perhaps some from Arabia. Or perhaps even some from other capital states in our kingdom. Perhaps Babylon."
Did he...?
I didn't dare turn to meet his eyes.
"Of course, of course." The King nodded. "The chefs in the Palace are the very best. They can make anything you wish."
"Many thanks."
Prince Finn's mouth tightened again. "Speaking of which, Cairo, there is something I'd like to ask you."
Prince Cairo raised an eyebrow, nodding towards him.
"A few nights ago, I happened to stumble across your little library. I was wondering if perhaps you kept a—"
The doors to the dining hall burst open, slamming against the walls.
"What now?" Prince Finn yelled, turning to the doors. Even from a distance, I could just see the side of his temples throb in anger. "Is the Palace going to the dogs? Haroom Zade! Can't you knock? We are in the middle of speaking!"
I blinked, turning to the doors, only to frown even deeper than I had before.
The man running in from the hallway with the back of his uniform drenched in complete sweat was one of the two butlers I'd seen whispering in the corridors just an hour earlier.
What was he doing here...?
"Apologies, Shahzadeh, Vala Hazrat," he said, bowing. "My deepest apologies! Something has happened within the Palace."
Prince Finn banged a fist against the table. "Something always happens within the Palace! What right do you have to just barge into the dining hall in the middle of my sentence? Speak!"
The man stopped. "Shahzadeh, my greatest apologies," he said, his eyes flickering over to me — specifically, me and all the other women sitting at the table. "This is a private problem."
"You barged in in the middle of my conversation with Vala Hazrat and Cairo," Prince Finn snapped. "Just speak! It doesn't matter!"
"Shahzadeh—"
"Either you speak, or you never speak again. Choose!"
The sweat stain on the back of his uniform expanded. "Yes, yes, my apologies, Shahzadeh," he said, looking around once more, before he finally whispered, "We found a corpse on the second floor of the Palace, Shahzadeh."
Prince Finn waved a hand, still glaring. "What, yet another ahmagh died from overworking? How is this important? Just toss them out!"
The butler shook his head feverishly. "No, no, Shahzadeh! They didn't die of natural means," he whispered. "The one who died had their throat and stomach slit open. As far as we can tell, they died around two nights ago. It is not a natural death, Shahzadeh! It is a murder, like the other cases we've seen before!"
His words made the room full of women grow silent.
Somewhere beside me, someone made a gagging, throaty gasp, most probably Maryam, but at that moment, I couldn't seem to process the idea of turning around and comforting her.
The other cases we've seen before?
The corpse was found... two nights ago?
A slit throat and slit stomach.
Murder.
Slowly, I looked up in the direction of Prince Cairo, wondering what his reaction would be.
But aside from a brief flicker of panic in his eyes, his face seemed abnormally, eerily, monstrously calm.
Almost as if this was normal.
Almost as if this was expected.
Almost as if he already knew.
spicy ;)
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