The Bodyguard
The palace was silent as I faced the window.
My legs were tucked in beneath me, my hands spread as I prayed.
Esana had ordered the wood barring the window to be removed on my behalf earlier, and a soft wind drifted inside, cooling my heated skin.
I lowered my head, inaudible whispers falling from my lips as I asked the Almighty to have mercy on the Southern souls lost in battle.
For heaven’s gates to be opened for my father, mother, and brother, where they would at last find serenity.
For Farani’s safety and health, and her happiness, because no matter the sting that I still felt from her abandonment, I wanted her to be at peace and joyful with the path she had chosen.
At a low creak, the hair on my neck prickled. I folded my prayer rug and turned to face the dark abyss behind me. The silhouette of my doorway slid open. I grasped the candle from the end table beside my bed, holding it before me like a shamshir.
“Who’s there?”
The creaking stilled. I could hear each of my breaths. A figure entered, then closed my door with a muffled thud. Light glinted in their hand—the sheen of a weapon.
He stood over me. The moonlight seeped into the chamber, setting his dagger alight. He bared his teeth in the dark. I was frozen, helpless beneath my covers, horror running through my veins. That horrid scent clung to him. A mixture of different oils he adorned himself with.
The intruder moved closer, and I retreated, fighting the images of my past. But no matter what I did, I couldn’t snap free of them.
I was there again, back in the night that had changed my life.
He had returned—this time to kill me for escaping him.
But I wouldn’t allow him to lay another finger on me.
I waved the candle before me, the tiny flame flickering.
He was dressed in dark gray, concealed from head to toe.
My candle did not faze him. He slinked closer.
“Keep your distance,” I warned before shouting, “Esana!”
He stiffened before rushing at me, his dagger swinging at my neck.
I ducked on impulse and kicked my foot into his middle, sending him stumbling back.
He regained his balance as I continued screaming for assistance and came for me again.
I tilted sideways, and the blade cut through the air beside my cheek.
I pressed my candle into his exposed wrist, and the flame sizzled against his skin.
The scent of burning flesh rose into the air, and he screamed, high and pained.
I shoved him away from me, dropping the candle and rushing for the door.
“Esana!” I screamed.
My fingers grazed the knob, but I was yanked backward by hands latching onto my nightgown. My pulse pounded lightning fast. An arm snuck around my throat, silencing my cries for aid. The edge of the dagger accompanied it and brushed the skin of my neck.
“Stay away from the shahzadeh or I will slit your throat. This is your only warning.”
The whisper was lethal in my ear. A vein throbbed in my temple as I grew desperate for air.
I grasped at the arm, but it didn’t relinquish me.
Shadows darkened my vision. Finally, he released me, and I slumped to the ground, gulping lungfuls of air.
Coughs tore through me as I pressed a hand to my chest. I looked toward the door, but he was already gone.
I blinked, my eyes heavy. Time slipped by, but I was stuck in that moment, an unceasing tremor gripping me.
I heard voices and my door swinging wide.
“Shahdokht?” Esana called.
She rushed over and sank to her knees before me. Her loose robes hung over her, the scarf wrapped in haste to cover her thick curls.
“Shahdokht? What happened?” She touched my face, shifting me to look at her.
“He—he was here. He came for me.”
My body moved uncontrollably as I relived the horrible encounter. My lips trembled, unable to utter anything further.
“Shahdokht?” Worry pinched Esana’s brow. “You’re bleeding.”
She left my side. I blinked at the exposed corridor through the doorway.
Women poured into the hall to peer into my chamber.
The jawahar whispered among themselves, candles in their hands as they clutched the fronts of their robes closed.
Their hair hung in loose braids and long tresses.
Then a shout pierced through the whispers.
“Make way! His Highness, Shahzadeh Dayyan, approaches!”
The women gasped, a hush clutching them as they parted a path for the prince. My head turned weakly, touching the carpet. Shined boots came to a stop before me. I stared at them, unable to look up. Esana had returned and spoke in quick whispers.
“Pardon me for disturbing you, shahzadem. I awoke to the shahdokht screaming. When I entered her chamber, I found her on the floor like this. Her neck is injured, and she told me a man was here, but I don’t know who—”
Her words ceased when the prince leaned down and hefted me into his broad arms. I burrowed into him and away from the prying eyes.
He was wearing his night robes, open at the chest, and yet at the moment, I found I couldn’t care less.
I buried my face into him, my nose brushing his skin.
I couldn’t allow the jawahar to see me weakened.
I forced back a sob and inhaled, taking in the earthy jasmine scent that reminded me of the special tea my father used to make for me and Eskender when he would tell us stories.
A wave of comfort drifted over me, settling my nerves the slightest bit.
“Esana,” he rumbled, and she neared.
My chadar was placed over my head, loosely covering my hair. Dayyan’s palm settled over it to keep it in place, and his fingers tangled with the escaping locks of my hair. Then he strode forward before coming to an abrupt halt.
“Shahzadeh,” a sharp female voice snapped. “Where are you going?”
“Malikeh Madar,” he said, addressing his mother formally. “There was an attack on Shahdokht Farani.”
“So I heard.” A pause. “Why do you trouble yourself with this matter? Leave the harem affairs in the harem.”
Dayyan stiffened, his grip on me tightening.
“My wife was nearly killed in this harem,” he emphasized. “From this moment until I deem otherwise, she will remain in my chambers, where she will be under my protection.”
Gasps rang out, and Malikeh Madar Morvarid sputtered. Dayyan walked on, his breath steady and even despite my weight. He paused at the harem entrance, and I felt another presence near.
“Zeki, have the guards on duty report in the morning. An assassin enters the harem without their knowledge!” Dayyan’s shout was laced with venom. “They will be punished.”
“As you wish, shahzadem,” the bodyguard said. “Is the shahdokht wounded?”
Dayyan continued walking without responding and did not stop until we reached his chamber. Esana followed us with a bowl and cloth. Dayyan sat on the edge of the bed, gripping me.
“What happened, Shahdokht?” Esana piped up.
The shahzadeh shot her a look, and she fell silent.
“It is obvious what has occurred. Someone wanted to fuel the battle with the South and attempted to execute Farani. The guards were either sleeping or paid to turn a blind eye.” He rubbed a hand over his beard before he looked down at me.
I turned away, but he reached out, grabbing hold of my chin and pulling my face toward him.
Our eyes connected, dark as the ruthless sands and the blue of stormy skies.
His thumb and forefinger held me captive as his gaze searched mine.
“Until I resolve this matter, you will remain here.”
I managed a nod, too exhausted to protest. My trembling had settled. I wasn’t afraid, I realized. Not while Dayyan was with me. Perhaps it was because the shahzadeh’s merciless exterior threatened death to anyone who came close. I was safe with him present. As long as I wasn’t his target.
He looked different now though. The ice in his eyes seemed cracked, and a torrent of emotions flowed forth. I read one: worry.
He stiffened and released my chin. After standing with swiftness and setting me on the bed, he stepped back.
“Tend to her wound,” he ordered and left the chamber.
Esana stared at the door until it closed and then rushed to my side. “Are you feeling better?”
I nodded, patting her arm.
“Wasn’t that so romantic?” she squealed as she retrieved the bowl and dabbed a cloth into it.
My brows drew together. “What?”
“And the faces of the jewels.” She sighed. “I have never seen them so stunned.”
“I’m surprised they weren’t smiling with glee at the attempt on my life or crying that the assassination failed,” I muttered.
“No, I’m not referring to their bitterness but to their reaction to Shahzadeh Dayyan in the harem!”
“Isn’t that a common occurrence?”
Esana shook her head. “He went once at the age of sixteen, when Shah Jihangir ordered him. But he hasn’t returned since.”
I stilled, confusion pouring through me. “I don’t understand.”
“Neither did the jawahar. They all vied for his attention, preening as he passed, but he spared none of them a glance. He was sought after more than Bahir. It wasn’t until years later that they finally gave up pursuing him.
” She leaned closer. “Mahnaz set her eye on him long before she snared Bahir. Perhaps that is why she carries so much malice toward you.”
“But the prisoners?” I asked. “The women he captures—what does he do with them?”
“None of us know. Most assume he locks them in a private chamber somewhere.”
Esana wrung out the cloth and dabbed it across my neck.
I hissed as sharp pain lanced over the area.
Esana muttered an apology. She seemed to sense my need for quiet and didn’t converse further.
After she smeared a strong-smelling cream over the cut, she excused herself, leaving me alone in the large chamber.
Despite my drowsiness, sleep wouldn’t claim me. I kept seeing the assassin.
When the door opened sometime later, I squeezed my eyes shut.
A shadow loomed over me. The shahzadeh’s familiar scent filled my nostrils, and my tense nerves calmed almost instantly.
He moved closer, lifting the covers over my shoulders before turning away.
I opened my eyes the slightest bit, making out the prince’s form in the dark.
He settled onto the ground with the pillow and blanket that had become his.
He lay flat on his back, his eyes staring upward as he tucked his hands beneath his head.
I watched him until my lids grew heavy and I faded into nightmares.