The Bodyguard
Everyone held a collective breath as they waited to see what the great Shahzadeh Dayyan would do to the young boy who had dared sully his robes.
I gripped Dayyan’s arm, a silent reminder that I was there and wouldn’t allow him to harm the child.
Dayyan lightly pulled his arm loose and sank to one knee before the boy, helping him stand.
“Ah, you have blessed my day, son, but I’m afraid I’ve ruined yours.” Dayyan pulled a pouch of coins from his robes and placed it into the boy’s hand. “Run off and get yourself some more milk.”
The boy’s eyes were still wide, though fear no longer emanated in them, but a sort of admiration. “May the Almighty bless you, Shahzadeh Dayyan,” the boy exclaimed.
“And the Almighty bless you.” Dayyan rose to his full height, ruffling the boy’s hair.
I understood then what such a simple action had meant.
Dayyan had spared the boy when he could’ve made an example of him.
Even for so small a mishap, I had no doubt Bahir and Shah Jihangir would have exacted punishment.
But Dayyan had chosen not to. Although I’d tried to despise him, every time I looked at him, my heart didn’t beat with hatred. It pattered to a different tune.
“Shahzadeh Dayyan,” an older man said, emerging from the throng. “You honor us with your presence. We are hosting a small competition for the youths hoping to join the army.” The man puffed his chest. “We were just completing archery.”
“A great cause.”
“If you bestowed your valuable experience, it would mean much to us, knowing how great of an archer you are.”
“I’ve never seen you shoot,” I told Dayyan.
The old man overheard and bobbed his head. “Welcome, Shahdokht Farani! Shahzadeh Dayyan is renowned for his skill with the bow. Some say he even shot the jewel adorning General Kasif’s ring during a skirmish.”
My brows rose. “I did not know you were that good.”
Dayyan shrugged. “Rumors tend to be exaggerated.”
“Do not be humble, Shahzadeh. You must be one of the greatest archers in the North, if not the best archer in the Khatatian Desert.”
“Well, now I must see him shoot,” I said.
Dayyan waved off the eager looks fastened to him. “There is no need.”
“Do you dabble in archery, Shahdokht?” the man asked.
I nearly laughed. If this man knew how well I shot, he would stop praising Dayyan.
It was my turn to shrug. “I’ve done a bit.”
“Truly?” Dayyan asked, suspicion in his tone.
“A match!” the young boy cried out. “A match between Shahzadeh Dayyan and Shahdokht Farani.”
A cheer broke through the onlookers.
Dayyan seemed uncertain. “I wouldn’t want Shahdokht Farani to become upset at losing.”
“I accept,” I snapped and his mouth closed.
The old man grinned and swept an arm behind him. “Please come this way.”
The crowd parted for us. We stepped into the tournament grounds.
It was just a sandy field with a sack of hay as the target.
The young competitors watched us eagerly as they joined the onlookers.
A bow and quiver of arrows were produced.
I examined the pronged ends of the arrows.
They differed from the ones we used in the South.
Dayyan readied himself and called for a long cloth to be brought to him. As soon as it arrived, Dayyan handed it to me.
“Tie it around my eyes.”
I couldn’t contain my laugh of shock. “You believe you are that skilled?”
Dayyan leaned in, his mouth grazing my chadar as he whispered, “I’m simply giving you a chance.” His breath brushed my ear through the fabric, and I shuddered. “Do not forget, Shahdokht, you still owe me a favor after our last match.”
“And when we are tied? What then?”
Dayyan’s face cracked, a smile slipping free. “Do not be so confident. Even blind, I won’t miss. Nothing distracts me.”
I stepped behind him, placing the cloth over his eyes and pulling it into a snug knot behind his head. My fingers brushed the waves of thick hair beneath his turban. I remained close to his side as he took up his stance and lifted the bow. He pulled back, his jaw clenched, wholly concentrated.
“Have I ever told you how handsome you look when you’re determined?” The words were for his ears only.
He startled, and the arrow went flying, somehow striking the target but a good distance from the center. A wave of cheers swept through the audience. They were impressed with their prince’s blindfolded ability. His skill was evident. He wouldn’t have missed if it hadn’t been for my compliment.
Dayyan tugged the cloth off and swiveled toward me, eyebrows shooting down. “What did you say?”
I gave him a sweet smile. “I thought you didn’t get distracted?”
“Your turn, Shahdokht.”
I grasped the bow and took up position. A hush of anticipation gripped our audience. Dayyan hovered behind me.
“Do you need assistance?” His chest pressed against my head as he closed the distance. “Lift your arm here and pull back.”
I maintained a serious expression as he instructed me on my stance. He stepped around me, perusing my form, and finally nodded in approval. His eyes lifted to mine, and a little furrow appeared between his brows.
“Exactly how many times have you done this?”
I held his stare and released the arrow. I didn’t need to hear the gasps from the crowd to know I had struck dead center.
“Enough,” I responded.
Dayyan’s brows rose high as he glanced at the target and then back at me. Admiration filled his expression.
“Shahdokht Farani is our victor!” the man announced.
Enthusiastic claps and hoots filled the air.
“Congratulations, hamsaram.” He kissed my hand, his stubble grazing my skin. He peered up at me. “It seems we are now tied.”
“So it seems,” I whispered.
He led me to the crowd, who congratulated me heartily and offered Dayyan claps on the back. Titles and ranks had dissipated. Here, among these people, we were one of them.
We laughed, drank strong chai, told stories, and listened for hours until the sun sank in the sky and dusted the horizon with a pink glow.
I sat beside Dayyan near a crackling fire.
Fatigue clutched me, and I leaned against him, resting my head on his shoulder.
I smiled, watching as he spoke with the villagers.
I was so close I could count the hairs of his beard, feel the rumble of his chuckle, appreciate the thoughtfulness of his words.
Young children darted about the gathering, taking breaks to sit on their father’s knee or in the warm embrace of their mother’s arms. Though their clothes needed mending and their faces were gaunt and their bellies hungry, they were full of life—more so than any I had seen in the palace.
There were many others that shied away from us, lingering back and hacking coughs.
They were plagued with a sickness that targeted the weak, Dayyan informed me.
They were just a few among the numerous who were nearing death.
Worry tugged at me. They needed support from the royal family.
Without it, they would surely diminish from lack of proper sustenance.
It grew dark, and we parted ways with the gathering. My heart grew heavier with every step we took away from them.
When we returned to the palace, Dayyan informed me we had to head to the throne room. Shah Jihangir had summoned us.