Chapter 3
The next thirty minutes of Aisha’s life passed in a blur of voices and people running back and forth in front of her. Safiya and Zara couldn’t seem to agree on what to pack.
‘She’ll need something nice for when she meets the king and queen,’ Zara was saying.
‘There’s no carriage,’ Safiya replied. ‘If it doesn’t fit into this bag, it can’t go.’
Barely anything could fit in that bag. It would all need to be left behind—like her family.
‘This is all my fault.’ That was Lilah, crying on the bed. ‘If I hadn’t dropped the cup—’
‘This has nothing to do with a broken cup,’ Zara said, straightening and looking at her. ‘The gods have another plan. Now stop your incessant sniffling and go fetch a hairbrush.’
Lilah wiped her face and got to her feet, doing as she was told.
‘Will we come to the wedding?’ Omar asked. He was seated on the floor, red-faced from trying to hold back tears.
‘You won’t,’ Yasmin said. She was by the window with her parrot perched on her shoulder.
‘Why not?’
‘Because the holy warriors will shoot you in the back as you’re boarding the ship,’ she replied matter-of-factly.
Safiya threw a shoe at her, careful not to hit the bird.
‘Go pick that up,’ Zara said tiredly. ‘It’s going in the bag.’ Then to Omar, ‘We’ll all attend the wedding so long as it’s safe to do so.’
Aisha stood, unmoving, by the door. These were her final moments with them all together in one familiar room. She didn’t want to do or say anything that would end it early.
Seconds ticked by.
‘It’s time to go.’ That was Safiya, suddenly in front of her, the bag in hand.
Aisha wasn’t ready, but that didn’t matter.
Next thing, she was standing in the courtyard, her siblings to her left and a horse to her right. How long had it been since she had ridden a horse?
She looked around for her father, but there was no sign of him yet. Tears threatened to spill over, but she wasn’t foolish enough to let them. No point turning a difficult moment into a traumatising one.
Despite Safiya’s calm facade, her fingers were turning white on Omar’s shoulders. Yasmin had brought her lizard outside with her and was focused on that. Lilah was barely composed. She stood with her hands open at her sides, face red from crying, not saying a word.
‘You have everything you need for the journey,’ Zara told her. ‘Prince Tariq has assured me you will be well taken care of at Azura Castle.’
Aisha nodded.
‘We have to go,’ Tariq said, leading his horse over to them.
The devastation that hit Aisha had her holding on to her horse for balance. She didn’t know where to begin with the goodbyes.
Lilah rushed forwards, wrapping her arms tightly around Aisha. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.
Aisha pulled away and held her at arm’s length. ‘Everything is the will of the gods, remember?’
Lilah pressed her lips together to stop from crying, then nodded.
Omar was next, his strong arms going around her waist. Aisha kissed the top of his head, then signalled for Yasmin to join them. Aisha was careful not to squash the lizard as she hugged her youngest sister.
‘Listen to Zara,’ Aisha told them.
They nodded as they stepped back.
‘They say the Gruisean leopard will be extinct soon,’ Yasmin told her. ‘Maybe you can save them.’
Aisha forced a smile. ‘Maybe.’
Safiya was looking everywhere but at Aisha.
‘Safiya,’ Aisha said gently.
Pressing her lips together, Safiya stepped up and threw her arms around her sister, then whispered, ‘There’s a dagger in your bag if they try anything.’
Aisha closed her eyes, holding on for a second longer before stepping back and looking at Zara.
‘How will you manage everything without me?’ Aisha asked, her throat closing.
Zara gave her a strained smile. ‘You were always going to leave these walls eventually.’
‘You’ll come back to visit us?’ Omar asked.
Aisha mustered a convincing smile for him. ‘That’s definitely the plan.’ She glanced at Tariq, half expecting him to contradict her, but he didn’t.
When Zara didn’t make a move towards her, Aisha went to her instead, aware of the tension in their bodies as they hugged. ‘Take care of them,’ she whispered before kissing her sister’s cheek and turning away.
‘Write to us,’ Lilah said.
Aisha nodded, too close to tears to speak.
One of the palace guards approached Zara. ‘There are holy warriors combing the city.’
Tariq exchanged a glance with his head guard, then approached Aisha, pulling her headscarf up. ‘Cover your face.’
She did as she was told. She was still tucking her hair in when Tariq took hold of her waist and lifted her onto the gelding. ‘Can you ride?’ he asked as he stuffed her foot into the stirrup.
‘Yes.’ She tried to sound confident, but the sudden contact had caught her off-guard.
His eyes searched hers. ‘Can you ride well?’
‘Well enough.’
He finally took a step back. ‘Good.’ He then returned to his horse, mounting in one fluid motion and gathering the reins as he gave instructions to his men.
Baba.
Aisha looked around for her father, still nowhere to be seen, then at Zara. She must have read Aisha’s thoughts, because she shook her head.
He wasn’t coming.
He was likely in his quarters with the curtains drawn, unable to face the moment.
‘Let’s move out,’ Tariq said.
Her horse began moving without her doing anything, following the others. Aisha looked back at her siblings just as Lilah burst into tears. Her gaze snapped forwards, unwilling to watch the aftermath.
Tariq’s horse moved into line with hers. ‘Don’t leave my side,’ he said, looking at her. ‘Understand?’
Everything about the moment terrified her. It was her first time outside the walls in years, and she was doing so with a group of strange men. ‘Yes.’
A few heart-racing minutes later, the gates appeared before her, and she couldn’t look away from them. Tariq nudged the sides of his mare, and she lengthened her stride. Aisha’s horse matched the new pace.
The gates opened, and Tariq signalled to his guards. The men formed a protective circle around the two of them. Aisha looked back as the gates began to close, losing her balance in the process. Tariq’s hand shot out, catching her elbow and righting her.
‘Keep your eyes ahead,’ he told her.
Colour filled her cheeks.
The palace was located in Orinthia, Avanid’s capital.
The streets outside were alive with sounds and colour.
The clamour of hooves on cobblestone mixed with the shouts of merchants selling everything from eggs to fine jewellery.
People glanced in their direction but quickly lost interest when they realised they weren’t holy warriors.
Fear bounced in Aisha’s belly as she held on to the front of the saddle. It grew the further away from the palace they got. The smells changed, and her surroundings became unrecognisable. She may have been surrounded by guards, but she was entirely alone.
Reality tightened around her neck.
She stole a glance at him, her future husband. His features were hard-edged as he scanned their surroundings. She looked away when his gaze slid to hers.
The party continued through the maze of streets, the aroma of spices and fresh bread creating a heady smell that Aisha found nauseating. The buildings around her felt like they were leaning in.
They passed a market where a group of musicians were playing instruments.
But then the music waned, and a strange hush fell over the area.
Aisha felt the ripple of tension spread along the street, prompting the head guard to raise a hand, signalling some sort of warning.
Tariq gestured to a nearby alleyway, and the guards pressed in around them.
He grabbed her reins as horses appeared.
The riders wore white surcoats banded with scarlet, chainmail visible beneath.
Verses were carved into their bracers so that every movement flashed with prayer.
Slevaborg’s holy warriors.
They were nothing more than the Emperor’s soldiers wrapped in scripture. Gods, how long had it been since she had seen them up close? Her breath caught in her throat, her pulse beating in her ears.
‘Princess.’
She flinched at the word from Tariq’s mouth. When she looked at him, she was met with the same intense stare as earlier, after her vision.
‘You’re shaking,’ he said, gesturing to her hands.
She looked down and saw that he was right. She quickly took hold of the saddle again to still her hands. ‘It’s cold in the shadows.’
He let her have that lie, his eyes returning to the road.
The head guard walked his horse to the edge of the alleyway and looked both ways before signalling to the others. The horses began to move again, and Tariq let go of her reins.
When they returned to the street, people looked at them with suspicion now, likely realising that the warriors were looking for them. Tariq must have noticed this too, because he told his head guard to ‘Pick up the pace.’
No one spoke again until they reached the outskirts of the city, a stark transformation from the bustling streets behind.
The noise faded, replaced by the gentle rustle of desert winds and the occasional call of a raven overhead.
Aisha had not seen the desert in over a decade, since her mother was alive, when it had all felt safe.
Nothing had felt safe since that day. Her father had kept the fear alive for good reason.
Tariq remained at her side as they made their way through vast stretches of golden sand. Aisha marvelled at the raw beauty of the setting, with its towering date palms along the horizon. Aside from the occasional cluster of nomadic tents, there was nothing but space and gentle sunshine.
‘How far to the port?’ she asked.
Tariq met her gaze. ‘You don’t know how far your own port is?’
Aisha’s cheeks heated. He thought her sheltered. What kind of princess didn’t know the distance from her own capital to the sea? She shifted in the saddle. ‘What I meant to ask is how long will it take to get there?’