Chapter 4
Nahlah
“Ow!” I winced as another pin pricked my skin. “That hurt!”
Kenzie looked up at me from under a mountain of strawberry curls, pins glinting like miniature silver teeth between her lips.
“Don’t move,” she admonished, her voice muffled by the metallic forest in her mouth. “One wrong move, and we’ll be stitching up more than fabric. It wouldn”t be right for a princess to arrive covered in bandages!”
“Okay, okay, I won”t move,” I promised, attempting to keep still. ”I”m just nervous.”
“How are your Sahrandian studies going?” she asked, securing the pincushion around her wrist and removing the pins from her mouth.
I blew out an agitated breath. “It doesn’t matter how much I’ve prepared; I don’t feel ready.”
“Do you want to practice?”
“Yes, please!” It had been a week since I’d received the summons, and despite the role I was playing, this wasn’t the opulent life of a princess. Between strategy meetings, studying, and endless tailoring sessions, there hadn’t been a single moment of rest.
Upon learning from our palace contacts that Sultan Ghazi had sent summons only to the realm”s elite, anxiety became my constant companion. Given my lack of status, it seemed unlikely they would welcome my presence, even if they knew I’d received one. Tensions had been escalating for several days due to the ongoing debates over the potential risks of sending me in as Nahlah for the sake of our mission.
Luckily, Amu Sinbad’s spies at the border reported that the Sahrandian royals were in seclusion. The older children were preparing for the elemental trials, the youngest was away at Unsurian Academy, and their parents were prepping to renew their Guardian bonds.
As a result, all five of them had powerful wards shielding them and wouldn’t have sensed their own summons. Their neutrality and isolation from other territories for the past two decades provided us with the perfect opportunity. Alauddeen and I could impersonate the elder siblings without fear of recognition or suspicion, with Kenzie serving as my lady’s maid.
“Let’s start simple,” Kenzie suggested, threading a needle with black sandsilk thread. “Who is Sahrandia’s royal family?”
“My parents, King Arman and Queen Soraya, my brother, Crown Prince Kavian, myself—Princess Emara—and our younger sister, Princess Nyla.”
“Good,” she crouched down. “What are Sahrandia’s chief exports and imports?”
“We import metalwork and elements from the mines of Manathi,” I responded, balancing on one leg as she tugged at my sirwaal. “We export two rarities that are only found in our domain. The naiadite crystals, which can purify any water so that it is safe to drink, and the frost lotus—which is harvested in the Ardeelian mountain range. It has incredible healing properties when made into a tea.”
“Not just a pretty face,” she quipped. “You know a lot about your kingdom, Princess Emara! I doubt Nahlah knows any of that about her own sultanate.”
“Hey! I am quite informed about Nephria!”
“Really?” she teased. “Go on, then.”
“Okay! The royal family includes Sultan Ghazi, the late Sultana Saeeda, and their children, Crown Prince Haytham and Princess Yasmeena. Our chief exports are spices, olives, woven textiles, and clementines. Because of our arid and harsh desert landscape, we import barley and wheat from more fertile neighboring regions,” I recited, resisting the urge to stick my tongue out at her. “We were close to forming an alliance with Sahrandia for their advanced technology, but the Sultan violated the agreement in favor of treasure hunting on their lands.” I huffed out an exasperated sigh. ”It’s only because of their love for our spices that they haven’t cut off ties entirely.”
”Sultan Ghazi is a plague,” she frowned, viciously jabbing a needle into her pincushion. Kenzie was a flora fae, born in Nuralia, the fae world that mirrored our own. When Sultan Ghazi came into power, his first decree was to demand that the fae who lived on the borders of our desert turn over their treasures and pledge allegiance to him.
When they refused, he waged a horrific war that lasted for years, with many casualties on both sides. Kenzie was three years old when her parents, warriors in the Light Court, died viciously in battle. Despite eventually seeking asylum in Nephria and settling in the Mirage, both she and her grandmother would never fully recover from the trauma they endured.
“He is the absolute scourge of the universe,” I agreed. “Maybe we should move to one of the other sultanates?” I teased, trying to diffuse the tension.
Kenzie cracked a smile. “I’m not sure how much better it would be. They are under his rule, too.”
A heavy silence fell over us, my mind racing as I struggled to find something to say. “Love you, Kenz,” I said at last, giving her hand a comforting squeeze.
She smiled warmly, returning the gesture. “I love you too, Princess Emara of Sahrandia and Nahlah of Nephria!”
After the warmth of the bathing chamber, the chill of the evening air seemed more pronounced as I stood before the mirror, dressing in the dark blue and silver traveling outfit Kenzie and Ummi insisted was appropriate for our arrival. Though Kenzie had done a spectacular job creating the outfit, I wasn’t convinced. Crafted from the finest aerisilk dyed in the deep blue colors of the Sahrandian royals, the loose sirwaal flowed around my legs like a light mist, adorned with small crystals.
The matching long-sleeved tunic—with billowing sleeves and a belt of interwoven star silk and silver thread—clung to me with tailored precision, accentuating every line and curve of my body with an intimacy I hadn’t known clothes could possess. Designed more for spectacle than function, it flared at the waist, cascading gracefully across the floor in a seemingly endless train. Beautiful, but entirely impractical, especially for travel.
I draped the matching cloak around my shoulders, its weight a slight comfort against the vulnerability the tunic imposed. My neck bore the heavy weight of a silver collar, its surface inlaid with large sapphires that rested laboriously against my collarbone. The matching earrings were alarmingly heavy, as if they might, at any moment, stretch my earlobes past the point of repair.
Completing the ensemble was a sash across my chest, with the Sahrandian flag front and center—four silver stars set above a silver frost lotus, with two silver blades crossed beneath. Sewn on either side of the raised collar were the crests for water and air—the elements Princess Emara possessed.
I”d been nervous upon hearing that she had elemental powers, concerned someone might ask me to display them. But the others had assured me that nobody would dare ask a princess to perform tricks like some common entertainer. It would also be a great insult to Sultan Ghazi and Princess Yasmeena, as all eyes should be upon her. Slipping on the gorgeous silk slippers, I marveled at Amu Sinbad’s ability to procure such accurate and finely made items on such short notice. The extent of his capabilities and connections were impressive, surpassing anything I could have imagined.
I quickly packed the rest of my belongings in the matching travel satchel before lifting the glass bottle of crushed kohl from my vanity. Stirring the wooden applicator into the glittering black dust, I carefully lined my right eye. As I was completing the left, someone knocked sharply on the door.
“Come in!”
”Ya salaam!” As the door swung open, Amu Sinbad’s smile instantly warmed the room. ”What is this beauty I see before me?”
I laughed, beaming at his praise. “I feel like I’m a child again, playing dress-up in Ummi’s old kaftans!”
His booming laugh seemed to embody joy itself. “Ah, but I recall a young girl who was more interested in my clothing. Wielding a sword, proclaiming to all who would listen, ‘I am the great Amu Sinbad, conqueror of the Mirage!’” he recounted, his imitation of my younger self so precise it drew a laugh from us both.
The memories came rushing back—racing through the Mirage with Alauddeen and the other boys, my braids whipping behind me, the wooden sword Amu Sinbad gave me slicing through the air. I could almost hear Ummi’s voice, torn between exasperation and amusement, insisting that a young girl ought to engage in more feminine pastimes, like tea parties and playing with dolls.
Amu Sinbad had quelled her worries with humor and wisdom, gifting me a doll that—to Ummi’s chagrin and my delight—came armed with a sword of her own, defending my right to imagine and play as I wished.
Amu took a seat on the bed, patting the spot beside him. “Sit with me, habibah.”
“Okay.” Taking care not to wrinkle my outfit, I sat down. “Is something wrong?”
“Oh, not at all!” he smiled, clearing his throat. “I have something for you.”
”Really!” I asked eagerly. “What is it?”
“I’ve been holding onto this for the right moment,” he said, handing me an old, worn blue velvet jewelry box. I opened it excitedly, finding a simple yet beautiful silver bracelet nestled inside, a single charm no bigger than a soltar dangling from it. In the center was a bee with tiny onyx eyes, its body inlaid with shimmering topaz stones. Veins of gold ran through the translucent pearl-colored wings, and around its slender body, a pattern of tiny leaves and flowers were etched into the silver.
”You got me the bee for my name!” I exclaimed, smiling up at him.
”It is for your name, but the credit isn”t mine. Your parents had it made for you.” He grinned, his eyes crinkling. “It was one of the few possessions you brought with you.”
“Oh!” I gasped, looking at the beautiful bracelet in a new light. I was barely a year old when bandits killed my parents and their caravan, leaving me in the care of Amu Sinbad. The only connection I had to them were the stories Amu shared of growing up with Baba, and a single photograph he”d kept from their wedding. Mama was resplendent in a bridal ensemble fit for a queen, and Baba looked as regal as the kings of legend. Throughout my childhood, I found solace in the picture, comforted by the resemblance I bore to both of them.
“Nahlah.” The emotion in Amu Sinbad”s voice drew my gaze back to his. He placed a hand on my shoulder, his gray eyes glistening with pride. ”Twenty-two years ago, you became my daughter, and each passing moment has been a true blessing. Watching you blossom and navigate through life is a source of endless joy and fulfillment for me!”
Taking a deep breath around the lump in my throat to steady myself, I reached out, clasping his hand in mine, not trusting myself to speak just yet.
”Being your guardian is the greatest honor and privilege, and the most fulfilling adventure I”ve ever had. I am immensely proud of the remarkable young woman you”ve become.”
Without hesitation, I threw my arms around him, attempting to hold back my tears to protect my perfectly lined kohl. “I love you, Amu Sinbad,” I whispered against his shoulder.
“I love you too, binti,” he responded, tightening his embrace.
Sniffling, I pulled back, lifting the bracelet from its box. “Will you help me put it on?”
“Of course!” he exclaimed, quickly fastening it around my wrist.
I couldn”t tear my gaze away, mesmerized by the gems refracting colored light in hypnotic patterns. ”It”s beautiful!”
”It really is,” he smiled, clasping my shoulder. ”We”re meeting by the gates in twenty minutes. Make sure you”re ready.”
I nodded, my gaze lingering on the delicate charm. It symbolized so much more than just a gift. It was an ever-present reminder of my parents” love for me, as well as an embodiment of the love and resilience that had shaped the woman I was today.