The Bodyguard
“What?” I whispered.
My confusion was taken up by the rest of the room. All eyes rooted to the brothers.
“Explain yourself, Shahzadeh,” Shah Jihangir demanded.
Shahzadeh Dayyan faced his father, his large form blocking the shah from my view. But I could imagine his furious features. “For years, I’ve asked nothing from you, my shah. Not the throne, nor position or riches. I only request this. Farani will be my wife.”
My heart drifted from my body. What was happening?
Shahzadeh Dayyan’s hand circled my wrist, his touch burning through layers of fabric and branding into my skin.
Endless moments passed. He was unmoving before me, as solid as a rock while shielding me from certain death.
I could feel the tension radiating off him.
“I will grant you this, Shahzadeh.”
The shah’s answer broke the tension and allowed everyone to take a breath.
“Peder!” Bahir exclaimed, earning him a sharp glance from the shah. Bahir lowered his head. “My shah, you heard the jadugar. How can you allow this?”
“The wedding shall proceed.”
Somberness gripped the chamber. All smiles had faded as the guests watched the proceedings with unease.
Shahzadeh Dayyan released my arm and leaned down to pick up my veil.
The soft cloth dangled in his hand as he stepped closer.
His eyes met mine and stayed there for a long moment before traveling over my other features.
His gaze grew dark as he focused on my lower lip, and I could feel the burn of the blood trickling there.
He reached up, eternally slowly, until his thumb brushed over the corner of my mouth, wiping away the blood.
The hardness of his features remained impenetrable, unreadable.
To glimpse past them, I had to look into his eyes.
As unnerving as they were, they gave him away.
He lifted the scarf, and the deep blue created a barrier between us.
He placed it over my face and hair, and then his fingers grazed mine as he reached for my hand before interlocking them.
I glanced at him, but he’d already turned, staring ahead as he led me to the cushions where I had been forced to sit beside Bahir.
A loud curse erupted from the spurned crown prince.
Bahir stormed from the chamber, the jadugar a pace behind, adamant in her refusal to bless or even witness the marriage.
A wise man was summoned in her place. He sat on a provided cushion before us, where he recited marriage rites in a monotone voice.
You will be a beautiful bride, Farani had told me once. That felt like a lifetime ago.
“I cannot wait for the day you find your handsome groom,” she said.
I batted her away. We were young girls, untouched by the horrors of life and the obligation of duty, lying on the sand beneath the stars after a horse-riding session.
“You will be a beautiful bride,” I told her.
“There is no doubt about that.”
At her snobby reply, we both erupted with laughter. Then Farani sobered. “My father spoke of Shahzadeh Bahir again.”
I frowned. “The Northern prince?”
She nodded. “I may truly have to marry him if we do not win the war.”
I turned to face her and she rolled over. Her large brown eyes were shiny with emotion and hurt.
“Oh, Farani.”
She shoved the pain aside with a lopsided grin. “But forget about me. We were talking about your glorious day. You will not serve me then, but it will be I who places the henna in your palms. You will smile with joy as your father blesses you and your handsome warrior.”
I snorted, and she giggled.
“Come now, imagine it. How will he look? You like the brooding sort. I know you do.”
I shook my head as she attempted to make me divulge my invisible groom. She poked my sides until I was wheezing with laughter.
“I just want him to be a good man,” I finally said, my voice soft.
The prince’s stare burned into me, and I realized I was gripping his hand with all my strength, turning our fingers pale. I loosened my hold and allowed the blood to rush forth.
Despite my objections to Farani’s teasing, I had once envisioned my wedding day as a beautiful event.
Yet here I was, marrying my enemy. Surrounded by strangers who detested me.
No father to bless me, no Farani to decorate my hands with henna.
A tear slipped from my eye, traveling down my cheek until I tasted the salty drop.
The ceremony passed in a blur. The wise man leaned forward.
“Shahzadeh Dayyan, son of Shah Jihangir and Malikeh Madar Morvarid. Do you accept Shahdokht Farani, daughter of Sultan Kasim and Malikeh Adalya, as your wife, giving her a dowry of ten thousand tiloh?”
Ten thousand gold coins. An enormous sum, and yet I doubted I would even see a glimmer of that gold.
It was all for show. It had to be. Shahzadeh Dayyan’s gaze locked with mine again.
I wondered what he saw in my eyes. Could he see the confusion and the hatred warring for dominance?
Why had he saved me? What did he gain from marrying me?
He broke the connection and spoke in a firm voice.
“I do.”
“Do you?”
“I do.”
“Do you?”
“I do.”
He was asked thrice, as was custom among the people. His jaw was hard and eyes cold as ice by the final time. The wise man turned to me, and my chest clenched.
“Shahdokht Farani, daughter of Sultan Kasim and Malikeh Adalya, do you accept Shahzadeh Dayyan, son of Shah Jihangir and Malikeh Madar Morvarid, as your husband with the dowry of ten thousand tiloh?”
I glanced at the man I would be bound to until my death or his. I would give my last breath in these halls, in a foreign palace. I cleared the sadness clogging my throat.
“I do.”
“Do you?”
I hardened my posture, forcing my resolve while whispering my true vow inwardly. This marriage was nothing but a sham. The princes would die by my hand or I by theirs.
“I do.”
“Do you?”
“I do.”
Polite claps resounded before everyone raised their hands in prayer.
My fingers slipped from the prince’s. I stared at my cupped palms as the wise man prayed for the Almighty’s blessing on our marriage.
As soon as our palms slid over our faces and the prayer finished, Shah Jihangir stood from his throne and the rest of the chamber followed suit.
“Slaughter the lambs. Spread riches to the poor. Let the city feast.”
At the shah’s proclamation, the chamber erupted in a cheer and the festivities began.
Shahzadeh Dayyan left my side. He stood across from me at the opposite end of the room.
A group of men surrounded him, congratulating him but maintaining a noticeable distance.
He accepted their words with nods. His icy gaze snapped to mine, and I looked away, shattering the connection.
Esana drifted to me with other women in tow, including the one I had seen standing behind Shahzadeh Bahir, his jawahar, Mahnaz.
“We will apply your henna,” Esana told me.
I nodded, hoping this nightmare would end soon. Dancers filled the area between me and Dayyan, shimmering skirts and twinkling earrings creating a blurring barrier. The cold henna was spread onto my hands. I shivered at the familiar sensation. The scent was comforting; it reminded me of home.
“You will stay with Shahzadeh Dayyan tonight.”
The words threw me under a wave of panic.
I glanced at Esana, hoping my fear wasn’t apparent on my face.
She continued speaking but focused on the woman who’d applied the henna to my hands and was now covering the dark circles with a single golden tiloh on each palm, following it with a triangular cobalt fabric she tied over my hands so the paste wouldn’t smear.
“And after your first night, you will join the other jawahar in the harem. You cannot leave unless Shahzadeh Dayyan calls for you.”
“You will be among us jewels.” Mahnaz joined the conversation, her heavy kohl-lined eyes narrowing. “Do not get too thrilled about the marriage. You are the North’s enemy. No higher than a common prisoner.”
I frowned, turning away from her instead of responding. She was seeking to enrage me, but I would not give her the satisfaction.
“Perhaps the shahzadeh will spend his night with his new prisoners instead,” Mahnaz said. “It is well-known how fond he is of his imprisoned Southerners. He prefers them in his bed rather than the well-bred and learned women in the harem.”
My fists clenched as I recalled the poor young women Shahzadeh Dayyan had chosen. Were they in his chamber awaiting the horror that would no doubt befall them? A more terrifying thought struck me: Would I have to witness what he would do to them?
Mahnaz leaned in, patting my arm and tilting her head. “Do not worry. It’s only painful the first time.” Then she laughed. “Though according to the jadugar, you are already quite experienced.”
I longed to drag my nails over her painted face, but I held myself back. When she noticed the fury in my gaze, a wide smile pulled at the corners of her red lips.
“Where is your tongue, Southerner? Are you that afraid of the shahzadeh?” She lowered herself to my side, whispering in my ear, “You should be. He is the most ruthless man in the North. He will make you suffer and pay the price for your people.”
I attempted to ignore her, seeking patience from the Almighty that I would leave this wedding without slicing her throat—or at the very least from attempting to.
“Shahdokht.” Esana nudged me.
Dayyan was standing above me with his hand extended.