The Prince
The guards’ heads angled to the ground as they slumped forward with their knees dug into the sand. Their matted hair slipped over their brows as they attempted to shield their faces with desperation. They had been cooking for hours. No water or shade to shield them from the sun’s punishing heat.
“No word?”
Zeki shook his head. “I have been questioning them since yesterday, but they say they didn’t see anyone enter the harem.”
We stood under the palm trees. Zeki’s men kept watch a distance away.
“I think they are speaking the truth. They would have confessed by now.”
“Perhaps they would rather burn layers of skin than lose their lives,” I muttered.
“These are palace guards.” Zeki grinned. “It doesn’t take much for them to give in.”
The palace guards worked for tiloh and status. My men earned their place with loyalty. If Zeki were captured by any enemy, I knew he wouldn’t speak even if his heart was to be torn from his chest.
“Speaking of burning, did you notice any on them?”
“The shahdokht gave us an advantage in this search by marking her attacker,” Zeki replied, an admiring note in his voice before he continued speaking and shook his head. “I scanned their wrists like you ordered, but there’s nothing.”
“Release them.”
Zeki nodded, jerking his head toward his men. They untied the guards and assisted them up.
“Give them the last of their pay and send them off.”
Zeki walked into the heat and spoke with the guards, then followed them toward the city. I watched them go until I remained alone on the outskirts. I inhaled the desert air, seeking the freedom of being away from the palace. It didn’t come.
My head turned without my consent, and I focused on the palace.
My thoughts went to her. She was locked there until I deemed it safe for her to leave.
A princess who once had everyone at her beck and call, ready to fulfill her every command, was now a mere prisoner.
And yet one look from her was enough to pull me nearer.
One glance into her eyes made me want to grant her whatever she wished.
She held more power than any prisoner ought to have.
I tore my eyes away, angry with myself. I clearly hadn’t managed to rip away my growing weakness.
Every time I built a wall between us, it seemed to crumble apart with one occurrence.
Even now, I worried that the assassin would strike again when I was gone and rob her of life. I sighed, walking back toward the city.
Instead of heading where my feet wanted to go, I visited the healer. Ustaad Saf smiled when I entered, and relief poured into me. He nodded.
“She is doing better.”
I strode past him and sank beside the low bed. Delara opened her eyes. They twinkled when she saw me. She reached out and gripped my hand.
“Ustaad Saf said I should be out of bed soon.”
I glanced at the healer, and he tilted his chin in affirmation. The weight on my shoulders lifted. I squeezed Delara’s hand. Her cheeks were flushed with life. My little sister had fought the sickness. She had won another bout against it.
“You promised to do a drawing session.”
“And we shall, jaanam. As soon as Ustaad Saf gives the word.”
“You look different,” she said, her voice turning croaky with sleepiness as she examined me.
“How so?”
“You seem happier.” She smiled. “It’s her, isn’t it? The shahdokht.”
I faltered.
“I was angry at her. I thought she was going to take you away from us.” Delara pulled my hand under her cheek as she turned onto her side. Her lids closed. “But she brought you back.”
She fell into a deep slumber, gripping tight to my hand. I thought over her words, sitting beside her until my arm went numb.