Threads of Gold

Eleven | گیاره

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That night in Gulzaan, the soil wanted blood.

It was as if the lonesome mehal was seeking vengeance on behalf of its beloved. The shrubbery reeked of stale abandonment and the wind wept after whisking past the roses that were shy no more; blushing pink turned to a redolent shade of red as those petals turned to ash in hopes that perhaps death would be their saviour. Perhaps death would extend its ever-reaching clutches to shield their ears. Perhaps death would give them solace in its cold embrace against the harsh words they were forced to bear witness to.

The frailer few of the flowers wilted for they did not have the heart to endure the scorn being tethered to their shehzadi's name.

And so, the rest of the once-proud garden mourned its losses whilst three greying men in the room above the lacklustre bed of roses cursed Zartasha's zaat.

"I knew that girl was insolent before but then came her nonsensical claim on the throne." A disgusted slur accompanied the words leaving Furqan's aged mouth.

"And now this reckless departure is no less worrisome," Noman added with agitation creased into his crow's feet.

A quiet and burdened shadow voiced his concern from a corner of the scheming beige room, "Worrisome for whom? Are you two truly worried about our shehzadi?"

Furqan sharply turned towards him and sneered his distaste from a distance, "Don't be ridiculous."

He then shook his head, as if to rid himself of her insubordination but he knew Labib would not be the first to raise a question regarding the sensitive matter.

Labib's statement made the pair realize the horde of biting accusations that would come the shahi council's way after people heard of where their shehzadi was.

After a pause, Furqan decided to consider Labib's question. "Do you truly believe that girl is someone worth worrying about?" He spat his response, "No, she thinks she can do whatever she wishes and we have had enough of it."

Noman sputtered to assist Furqan's malice against the Fahim heir.

"She may have given herself over to Kalthura but we will not bow like that sycophant."

Labib shut his eyes and stayed silent, using the wall against his back as an anchor. He was aware the two conniving men would not grasp the sort of strategic maneuver the girl pulled instead by chasing after Qalmazar's sands. Only Zartasha knew what a chancy decision it was, and all for the sake of having her rule rage across Sherqul's lands.

Labib's lack of words pulled more harebrained thoughts from the pair pacing along the fraying carpet on the chamber's cold marble flooring.

An excited gleam started shining in Furqan's beady eyes after a few silent moments, he paused his interminable traverse and hurried towards Noman. Placing a wrinkled hand on the latter's shoulder, Furqan then gave voice to how they would reap the benefits of what Zartasha had precariously sown for herself. "The absence of Sherqul's shehzadi is our gateway to this mulk's throne."

When Noman raised his brows to indicate a need for further clarification, Furqan gave him a start by pointedly suggesting, "Give some thought to when she left."

The realization was laggard but like any slow poison, Furqan's words resonated with Noman after a moment's pause. It was as if a holy revelation had chosen their crafty selves to bear its message for a smile brightened Noman's waning face. He animatedly expressed what Furqan wanted him to understand, "After she foolishly declared herself heir to the Sherquli throne."