Chapter 10
Nahlah
“Stop fidgeting!” Alauddeen hissed, tension etched into his every word. Immediately, I dropped my arms to my sides, fighting the urge to bite my lip. We were standing outside the ballroom, the moment before our announcement stretching out endlessly.
“Asif, I’m just nervous.”
“It’ll be okay,” he murmured. Glancing at him, a pang of concern gripped me; his face was pale and drawn, his jaw clenched so tightly, I feared he might break a tooth.
“You look very handsome,” I offered, hoping to put both of us at ease with a subject change.
When creating his outfit, Kenzie had followed the tradition of honoring our hosts by wearing their colors—something a majority of the other guests were observing as well. His black tunic—embellished with golden embroidery at the neckline and cuffs—accentuated his broad shoulders and strong build, his golden sirwaal perfectly matching the belgha on his feet and the circlet resting on his dark hair. Completing the ensemble, a black cloak lined with scarlet satin billowed behind him, held in place on each shoulder by one of Prince Kavian”s elemental crests.
His ears reddened. “I miss wearing my jellaba.”
At his pouting expression, I laughed. “Don’t worry, akhi. We’ll be back home soon, and you”ll never need to wear fancy clothing again.”
“Crown Prince Kavian and Princess Emara of Sahrandia!”My nerves were so on edge that I jumped in surprise as the herald’s booming voice rang out around us.
“Calm yourself,” Ala whispered urgently, grasping my shaking arm.
The sarcastic remark on the tip of my tongue evaporated as we swept through the doors. If I’d thought the dining hall was extravagant, it paled in comparison to the grandeur of the ballroom. As Alauddeen led me to our seats, my gaze swept upward, taking in the soaring ceilings supported by towering black marble columns, the Sultan’s golden lanterns dangling from various heights, casting a soft, warm light across the room.
The tile work on the walls—red, black, and gold geometric designs—were stunning in their symmetry, the mural of the Nephrian flag behind the thrones a true masterpiece. Each detail, including the central crescent moon, the triad of sandsilk lilies, and the golden scimitar, was rendered in zellige tile work. At the very bottom, a banner in white tiles bore the sultanate’s name in bold, proud letters: Nephria. The complexity of its pattern and the incredible amount of patience and dedication it must’ve taken to create such a faithful representation left me stunned.
The golden dais contained three thrones, with the central one clearly belonging to the Sultan. It had a towering backrest, gilded and crowned with a carving of a fully bloomed golden sandsilk lily. Clusters of rubies and onyxes adorned the elegantly unfurled petals. The two others, though smaller, exuded a comparable magnificence. Each bore meticulous craftsmanship and attention to detail, with Prince Haytham’s featuring a red sandsilk lily, and the new one—obviously for Princess Yasmeena—featuring a black one.
The ballroom’s center was open, a broad stretch of the black-marbled floor waiting to accommodate dancers. In one corner, musicians stood at the ready with their instruments, including the gimbri, bendir, oud, ney, and darbuka, promising enchanting music once the festivities began. Along the walls, plush sedaris adorned with silk cushions invited guests to relax and enjoy the night. The windows and balcony doors were wide open, allowing the cool evening breeze to mix with the aromatic incense wafting through the air.
After pulling my chair out for me, Alauddeen took a seat to my left, his anxiousness as palpable as my own. Though we’d gone over the plan twice while Kenzie prepared us, my stress levels were out of control. While tradition dictated a grand zaffa for the Princess—a ceremonial entrance that a majority of the guests would partake in—Ala and I would observe it from our table. The less attention we drew to ourselves, the better.
“Princess Emara!” I glanced up, smiling as Princess Valentina approached us. Her strapless dress seamlessly transitioned from dark red at the top to a flowing black skirt, a delicate, golden tiara crowning her voluminous curls.
“Princess Valentina,” I greeted. “You look beautiful!”
“As do you, my dear!” she said, raising an eyebrow and looking over Ala with interest. “Who might this be?”
I laughed, motioning in his direction. “Princess Valentina, this is my brother, Prince Kavian. Brother, meet Princess Valentina of Veneterra.”
“Price Kavian, it is an honor to meet you,” she smiled, extending her hand toward him.
“Princess Valentina,” Ala said, pressing a kiss to her hand and flashing that rare smile of his that caused grown women to giggle. “The honor is all mine.”
A pleased expression took over her features, and she leaned forward. “Tell me, Prince Kavian...”
As they flirted, my thoughts drifted, apprehension over the night’s proceedings tightening its grip on me. The grand reveal of Princess Yasmeena, followed by the Sultan’s speech and the ensuing celebrations, meant the ballroom would soon be a whirlwind of activity. It was during this chaos that we planned to slip away unnoticed, a thought that now seemed more daunting than ever.
The unmistakable sound of a sword clanking jolted me out of my thoughts. I turned, half-hoping to see the guard who’d caught me off-guard with his quiet presence and awkward charm. But the uniformed figure was unfamiliar, my disappointment sharper than I cared to admit.
Despite my surprise at seeing him in the library, the encounter had been a pleasant diversion. He was endearing in his flustered state, and a small, unbidden smile crossed my lips as I replayed the moment he’d stumbled over his own name. Rami. It felt like a precious secret he’d shared with me, one I wanted to keep to myself.
Attempting to hide my growing smile, I lifted my glass to my lips; taking a sip of the clementine juice, honey, and orange blossom concoction. Rami’s nervous demeanor, so at odds with the surety and strength that his position demanded, implied that he was a new guard, perhaps taken on as extra security for tonight.
Ala’s subtle nudge under the table broke my reverie, and I glanced up, catching Valentina’s expectant stare.
“Princess Valentina was admiring your dress,” Alauddeen interjected smoothly.
“Thank you! My dearest friend created it for me,” I stated proudly.
A thoughtful observation accompanied Valentina’s impressed nod. “It’s truly unique, especially tonight. You’re one of the few not wearing the Nephrian colors.” Her words, meant as a compliment, sent a wave of terror through me. I realized with horror that my dress, a pearlescent lavender color, stood out like a beacon against the sea of black, red, and gold.
Sensing my distress, Ala quickly shifted topics. “Will your sisters be joining us?”
“Yes!” she laughed. “Sofia was eager to accompany the procession and forced Luna to join her. I will happily watch the proceedings from here, though!”
Thankfully, Ala immediately asked her another question, allowing me a minute to gather myself. How had we overlooked such a simple yet crucial detail?
The grace of the Syloreans came through in their jeogoris and billowing hanboks, complemented by sparkling norigaes. Nearby, Krynnik dignitaries’ ornate diracs and garbasaars flowed elegantly, the Tryzonans adding a tropical flair with airy guayaberas and ruffled dresses. Avorille’s envoys—adorned in fluid sarees and crisp dhotis—moved through the crowd, their jewelry glittering under the lights.
Ice trailed down my spine as I realized that despite the varied appearances, cultures, and traditional attire from all over the realm, tonight, the common thread was the colors they wore.
The sudden burst of drums announcing the beginning of the zaffa shattered my nerves even further, sending a shiver through my entire body.I took a calming breath, trying to still the whirlwind of panic churning through me. We couldn’t go back now. Each of us had a role to play, and we had strategies in place if we needed to change or adapt to the situation.
Yet, no matter how much we’d prepared for this, the feeling of dread in my stomach was getting worse.