The Caliph and his Crown

1

The rich scent of chai filled the house. Zaara recited last night's studying over in her mind as she pulled her shalwar over her head. Today was the last portion of her medical exams, and despite the cloudy overcast and uneasiness in her stomach, Zaara was optimistic. She walked out of her room and greeted her aunt in the kitchen. Zaara stared down at the bowl of steaming breakfast Nihari and then up again at her aunt, her smile warm and contagious as ever. "Chachee, where did you get this?" She inquired, her aunt was a good cook, but Nihari was an art that took years to perfect.  "Amir Uncle brought it by after he heard of your exams." Of course, Zaara's best friend's father was always one to look after her as if she too was his daughter. Zaara waited no longer to dig into the fragrant dish, the soft beef melting in her mouth. She opened her study guide as she ate, desperate to cram in as much information as possible before she had to leave. Between the Nihari and her studies, she was so immersed that she hardly heard the soft clack of hooves approaching their cottage.  It was rare they ever got visitors up on their hill, especially someone being drawn by horses. She glanced at her aunt, who looked just as puzzled as she was. Her aunt walked over to the window gently pulling back the curtains. Zaara could see the color leave her face. "Who is it?" She only responded with a frantic expression, something Zaara seldom saw on her face.
 "Run. Out the back door, and don't let them see you." Her aunt stated, without explanation. She grabbed a small dagger from the wooden box near their door.
 "But Chachee-"
"Go to the university and take your exams, stay with Leena for dinner."
"But-"
"Now!"
Zaara knew better than to question her aunt, so she did what she was asked to do. She ran.

Zaara tried to reassure herself as she sat down at her desk and opened her test booklet. Chachee will be okay, it's probably just the bank again. But Zaara knew her aunt better than that, her chachee had raised her since she was a toddler, after her father was killed in the war, and her mother of heartbreak. Her aunt was always resilient, nothing fazed her, not even the merciless men from the bank. And why would she need her hunting dagger? Zaara prayed for God to give her aunt mercy. But mercy for what, from whom? She didn't know. A thousand questions raced in her head, and it was no use trying to slow them. She imagined her aunt's painful screams and cries for help. And who would come to her rescue? No one lived close enough to their house to hear such things. Zaara tried to put her attention back into her present surroundings. She was the only female taking the exam in her small village, and her heart raced with the dream of becoming the first woman doctor in her province. She imagined her own medical practice, with her surname displayed on the window, but who was she kidding? At the most she would become a nurse or an assistant. She looked around at the other students, absorbed in the exam, they had a million opportunities awaiting them when they stepped out of this building. Zaara was bound to a life of standing behind others, waiting patiently for her turn. Zaara was done with waiting, and decided she had more pressing issues. 

How many more times will I have to run away from things?  Zaara heaved as she made her way away from the university and back home. She was never a great runner, yet she seemed to be doing a lot of it today. She finally turned the corner revealing the small cottage, the horses and their passenger no where to be seen. She felt a mixture of relief and regret. She had fled her exams for nothing. How stupid was she? Her Chachee was going to kill her. What mattered was that her aunt was safe, and the headmaster was merciful. He would understand, surely. Zaara opened the front door, set at ease as she saw that everything was how it was left. "Chachee!" She called, bracing herself for her aunt's wrath. "Chachee, please don't be upset!" No reply. Maybe it really was the bank, and they had brought her aunt to their building to settle any disputes. But something inside her didn't feel right. Zaara's stomach mouth went dry and she wandered the house desperate for her Chachee. She walked into the hallway that led to her bedroom. Before she could even prepare herself for what would come next, she saw her aunt. Sprawled on the floor. Blood oozing from her chest. "No." She whispered, tears suddenly filling her eyes. "no, no ,no" her voiced turned raspy. Zaara knelt down, and grabbed her aunt's soft and still warm hands.
The hands that fed her sweet jalebi and kheer.
The hands that would apply intricate mehndi designs on hers. 
 Holding back sobs, she placed two fingers to her aunt's neck,  verifying the truth that weighed heavy in her heart.

she has died.

Zaara focused on the small blade protruding from her chest, engraved with the text and symbol of the Sarin Caliphate. 

No, her aunt was murdered.