Chapter 7
Nahlah
Tagines and bastillas, couscous and harira, briouat and rfissa, oh my! The grand feast that was laid out before us was a magnificent spread of Nephrian cuisine, stretching far beyond our table and filling the entire dining hall. As I scanned the never-ending array of dishes, plates, platters, and trays, the harsh reality hit me.
Despite the hundreds of guests in attendance, it was unlikely that all the food would be eaten.
I leaned closer to Ala, seeking reassurance. “What will happen to the leftovers?”
His gaze didn’t waver from the table, but the scowl etched into his features deepened. “They will throw it out,” he stated flatly.
My brows drew together, concern pressing down on me. “But what about those literally begging for food beyond the gates?”
His response was a quiet, bitter chuckle. “They will starve.” The anger in his voice was palpable as he skewered a piece of lamb, placing it onto his plate with unnecessary force. “They will starve while their sultan wastes mountains of food to prove his superiority. Eat,” he ordered, serving himself a spoonful of vegetables.
“I don’t know if I can now,” I confessed, guilt gnawing at me.
“I know,” he replied, his tone softening. “But punishing yourself doesn’t help anyone.” He pushed the platter of chicken, potatoes, and olives—a dish I adored—closer to me. “Eat,” he repeated, breaking off a piece of fresh khubz as if setting an example.
As I spooned a modest serving onto my plate, a sudden realization struck me like a bolt of lightning. If this was the meal we were receiving tonight, what extravagance awaited us tomorrow for Princess Yasmeena”s reveal?
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I reached into the basket, the fresh bread’s inviting aroma battling against the knot in my stomach. Each mouthful served as a reminder of the stark difference between the opulence inside these walls and the harsh reality just outside—a contrast that left a bitter taste in my mouth.
When Sultan Ghazi had spoken at length about his benevolence, unmatched generosity, and deep, abiding love for Nephria and her people, it had taken every ounce of self-control not to expose the grim truth that lay beneath his golden persona.In his relentless pursuit of treasure and personal glory, he’d long ago forsaken us. If not for the Mirage’s efforts, Nephria would have crumbled long ago.
My blood simmered with a silent fury as I watched him smiling and laughing, indulging in bite after luxurious bite. How could he sit there, draped in splendor, while his people died?I wanted to scream at him, loudly and publicly declare that the Aetherian Council should hold him accountable for his blatant neglect.
The other attendees had appeared thoroughly engrossed by his speech, their laughter and applause reinforcing his delusions of grandeur. But even in a speed-enhanced vehicle, it would’ve been impossible for them not to notice the impoverished state of those living outside the gates.
As I scanned the surrounding faces, I couldn’t help but speculate how much of their amiability was genuine. Were they blinded by Sultan Ghazi’s pretty words? Or were they, like me, able to see through the facade, recognizing his true nature? How many of them were merely playing along, keeping the peace while silently noting the cracks in Nephria’s foundation?
“Excuse me?” The soft inquiry from the woman beside me disrupted my thoughts. Despite speaking in Veneterran, her words were instantly translated into Nephrian by the thin, golden cuff attached to the curve of my ear. When I’d first been told about the Linguistic Listeners, skepticism had clouded my judgment. However, after observing it firsthand, I devised a plan to smuggle a few out for Amu Sinbad to examine and replicate. These devices would be immensely helpful for the refugees we received from other domains.
“Yes?” I smiled, noting her shy demeanor.
She blushed before pointing to a serving plate. “Do you know what this dish is and how it’s eaten?”
“That’s za’alouk!” I exclaimed, eager to share a piece of my culture with her. Luckily, Sahrandia shared many dishes with Nephria, so I didn’t need to fear raising suspicion. “It’s made from tomatoes, green peppers, and garlic, all stewed in olive oil with a rich blend of spices. And,” I picked up the basket of khubz and offered it to her, “you eat it with bread!”
She placed a small serving on her plate, broke off a piece of bread, and tentatively took a bite. After a moment of chewing, her eyes lit up. “This tastes wonderful!” she declared, her enthusiasm genuine as she reached for more.
“It does!” I felt a swell of pride at her enjoyment.
Dabbing her lips with a red napkin, she smiled shyly. “I’m Princess Luna of Veneterra.” Veneterra’s official salutation accompanied her introduction as she touched her fingers to her forehead before gracefully extending her hand outward.
I nearly gave the Nephrian salute—a fist to the heart—but caught myself just in time. “I’m Princess Emara from Sahrandia,” I introduced myself, the name sounding foreign to my ears.
She nodded, her cheeks coloring again. “I recognized the Sahrandian flag. It’s lovely to meet you.”
“It’s lovely to meet you too!” I wasn’t too familiar with the royalty and elite of other domains—until a week ago, I could barely list the territories that shared our realm. But thanks to Amu Sinbad’s lessons, I knew she was the youngest of twelve princesses. She looked younger than her nineteen years, her large, doe-like green eyes and her pale white hair beautifully emphasizing her soft features.
Beside me, Alauddeen coughed, and I smiled, motioning toward him. “Princess Luna, this is my brother, Prince Kavian. Brother, this is Princess Luna of Veneterra.”
Luna offered another salute. “Crown Prince Kavian, it’s an honor to meet you.”
“The honor is mine, Princess Luna.” Ala executed the Sahrandian greeting with a grace that far surpassed my earlier clumsy attempt. “I trust your journey was easy?”
“Yes, thank you,” she replied.
Curious, I asked, “Was it long?”
“We were so excited to attend that we used a travel portal,” she laughed. “It shortened the distance considerably.”
“I’ve never used a travel portal,” I mused aloud. “Though I have used a transportation one.”
Luna seemed genuinely surprised. “Really? Oh! But I suppose you would have no need for portals when you have the Ardeelian Runners. They are amongst the most beautiful creatures!”
Before I could agree about the horses’ beauty, Ala interjected, “Princesses, would you allow me to take my leave for the evening?” Not wanting to be left alone, I frowned up at him, ready to object. However, the tightness in his expression and his barely veiled fury stilled my protests.
“Of course. Rest well brother,” I added, Luna quickly echoing my sentiments.
”Enjoy the rest of the evening.” He bowed stiffly before spinning on his heel, striding quickly out of the room.
Once Ala had departed, I looked back at Luna with a smile. “Did any of your sisters accompany you?”
“Yes! Unfortunately, portal travel disagrees with them, and they’ve been resting since our arrival.”
“I would love to meet them,” I said, giving the polite princess response expected of me before expressing my true thoughts. “Eleven sisters though! I can only imagine the adventures you’ve had!”
“Just preparing for these festivities was an adventure in itself,” she said, rolling her eyes. ”I had no say in my clothing; it was like being swept away by a tidal wave of silk and satin!”
“Me either!” I exclaimed, motioning to my outfit. “Look at the ridiculous travel ensemble they forced me to wear!”
“You look radiant,” Luna offered with a sweet smile. “Though I agree it’s impractical for travel. I’m sure a majority of the young ladies here would share similar sentiments. Isn’t that incredible? Despite our different cultures and backgrounds, we can relate on so many different matters.”
Her words lingered in my mind, sparking a deeper realization. “And it’s not just our personal experiences—many of our legends and lore are strikingly similar at their hearts.”
“Very true!”
“Storytelling has always intrigued me,” I confessed. “It connects us across lands and realms, in ways we sometimes can’t even understand.”
Princess Luna nodded vigorously. “Absolutely! Stories tell us where we’ve come from and hint at where we’re going.”
I nodded, my passion causing my enthusiasm to grow. “They are the soul of our cultures, passed down to remind us of both our roots and our wings. To know someone’s story is to understand their heart and the values they hold dear.”
Luna leaned in closer. “Imagine the stories hidden within this very room, and the tales the palace walls could tell!”
“Or perhaps,” I mused, matching her conspiratorial tone, “the walls are burdened by centuries’ worth of scandalous secrets!” Our laughter filled the air, echoing lightly around us as we enjoyed the playful thought.
An unsettling feeling of being watched crept over me a moment later, causing my amusement to quickly fade. Turning my head slightly, I glimpsed someone moving in my peripheral vision. But as I spun around, they were already rounding the corner, leaving a lingering sense of unease in their wake.