The Sultana
One Week Later
Lanterns set the desert alight. My red dress, representing the South, clashed against Dayyan’s turquoise-and-silver robes.
We looked over the table at the dancing civilians laughing merrily and spreading food from the feast around.
I glanced at Dayyan’s handsome face. The bruises were fading, but there were some marks that never would.
The scars covering his chest from the slashes of the whip would be there forever.
I had spread ointment over them every night since the incident in the dungeon.
He’d asked me one evening, “Does it disgust you? The sight of them.”
I’d shaken my head and kissed him gently before saying, “On the contrary, seeing them reminds me of how brave you are.”
He’d watched me with an adoration that melted the ice in his eyes.
“They say people recognize one another in this life, even when they have never seen each other before. Because their souls encountered one another prior to the Almighty sending them to the world.” He lowered his head.
“Our souls were bound before we were born. Your soul to mine and mine to yours.” His breath caressed my neck.
“You have captured my heart and mind. I am forever your prisoner, Yildiz, dokhtari sitarha.” Daughter of the stars.
There were many burdens we would carry. But they were ones we would carry together.
After Malikeh Madar Morvarid had slayed Shah Jihangir, she’d unfastened our chains and informed us of the coup started by Mustafa, along with soldiers loyal to Dayyan and civilians who had accompanied them.
They were tired of Shah Jihangir’s tyranny.
The greedy commanders and advisers had been dismissed from their duties, including Wazir Elmas, who had been banished entirely from the Khatatian Desert.
The harem had been reorganized. The jawahar had returned to their homes and been provided with enough tiloh to last them the rest of their lives.
Dayyan had suggested I exact revenge from any who had harmed me, but when I’d looked upon Mahnaz and her minions, I had felt nothing but pity. Life was too short for enmity.
I looked now at the lower tables, smiling at the familiar faces.
Eskender and Bazmara sat close together.
They had married hours after we retook the palace.
They’d been too close to losing their lives and had no wish to continue another day separated.
Dayyan followed my gaze, and he glared at Eskender and his sister, who were cuddling close together.
“Eskender,” he called, and I sensed the oddness he felt saying my brother’s true name.
My brother turned toward him.
“Yildiz saved you,” Dayyan said. “If she’d told me that you had eyes for my sister, you would have been a blind man.”
Eskender smiled. “Thank you, khwaharim. You have my gratitude.”
I waved him off, laughing softly.
Dayyan waved a finger at him. “Do not think you are safe. I may still give you a good thrashing.”
“Anytime.” Eskender chuckled. “Tell me the hour and day.”
Bazmara wrapped her hands around his arm and then batted her lashes at her Dayyan. “Spare him this once, Day, for my sake.”
Dayyan paused. “For your sake, I suppose.”
Though his eyes were still narrowed on Eskender, I noticed the smile on the edge of his lips. I shook my head. Despite his mock threats, I knew Dayyan couldn’t be more pleased by the match. He’d confided in me that he would never have trusted Bazmara with anyone else.
Our attention was drawn by Delara and Omid as they dashed between the tables, throwing petals of gold into the air.
Malikeh Morvarid entered the hall, along with several more officials.
They carried pillows laden with crowns. Malikeh Morvarid stopped before us, and we rose from our seats.
Tears filled her eyes as she examined us.
The onlookers stilled, and a sudden hush reigned.
Morvarid placed the silver metal over Dayyan’s thick hair and the golden circlet over my sparkling chadar.
“Your new rulers, Sultan Dayyan and Sultana Yildiz.”
Cheers erupted.
“May the Almighty keep you on the right path and bless your reign.”
The people shouted their prayers and then came up to the table one by one to congratulate us.
The festivities continued. The North and the South had finally become one.
And the golden forest was forever safe from prying eyes.
My hand brushed Dayyan’s beneath the table. His sparkling blue eyes found mine.
“Shall we retire for the night?” I suggested.
At my tone, he stood quickly, nearly knocking his chair over. Cheers and well-wishes followed us from the throne room. We were nearing our chamber when Dayyan stopped, a worried crease between his brows.
“Are you certain you are ready?”
I smiled at his thoughtfulness and gripped his hand tighter before pulling him into our chamber. His forehead lowered, touching mine. Our noses brushed. Our breaths quickened.
“I am ready.”
The chamber door closed.