QAIS

Chapter 9: Her Name is Layla

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News of the First Mir's suicide had spread all around the state. Safe to say it was a controversial death. Riots had broken loose in some parts of the province as the followers of the minister blamed the opposing political parties for his suicide. Others blamed terrorists. Some blamed depression from his friend, the Minister's assassination. Others blamed his family. Nonetheless, the Capital was in an uproar as uncertainty of the future loomed over them.

As for the Castle, it had been clouded with grief. The extravagant gowns and royal uniforms were all replaced by black clothing. The long corridors that would be bustling with the princes and princesses' laughter had fallen deadly silent in bereavement. Qais had hit them at their strongest point. The first prince of all.

Mir Ghazanfar, the ruler, who was abroad for his treatment had returned the moment he head the news. Everyone knew he loved his sons like no other. And to have the eldest, the one he held more like a friend than a son, to have him die before him. It was a agonizing.

Mir Shams's mother, the first of the three Queens, Uzlifat Khanum had upon hearing the news fell in shock. She was a staunch regal woman, nobody had ever saw her lose composure, but the shriek she had let out had rang in the castle walls.

In a time like this people often consoled each other saying time would heal everything. But it was a lie. Because as long as Qais existed, time would only worsen for them. For the Mirs, it was only the first of many tragedies.

While everyone was mourning, there was one person who looked like the happiest man alive.

He had lit the sky with fireworks and given a holiday to all the servants of the mansion.

But as the embers of the fireworks, danced in the reflection of his ocean eyes, there were no thoughts of Shams or the miserable state of affairs he had brought about in the nation. There were only thoughts of hazels in them. As if that was all his world had become.

If the first sight had been entrancing, the second was addicting. It had overwhelmed him. He could no longer drown himself senseless, or distract himself by violence and amour.

Instead she had become his distraction. From his plans, from his self.

Qais didn't know where this would lead. How this would end. He had spent far too much time worrying about it. He couldn't anymore.

He had to see her.

Pasha noticed that he was holding that bandaid again. Though ruined, he still held onto it.

"Are you hurt somewhere?" Pasha asked indirectly. He couldn't hold it back anymore. He had never seen the younger so conflicted, so absolutely tortured. If Qais was ever in pain, he never showed it. Pasha knew it better than anyone. The younger would endure it till it either broke him, or he broke out of it.

"It does hurt." He rasped, eyes lost in a storm he just couldn't find a way out of.

"Has something happened?" The grey-eyes gauged him carefully.

Qais was the happiest that day. And a man is most weak when he is happy. Because all the walls that guard him are lowered in that moment. He feels no threat, no worry. No consequence of his actions. And so it was was one small moment of weakness that had him slipping her out of his sinful lips.

"There was a girl."

Pasha already knew.

The way his animalistic gaze softened, lost in thoughts of her, was a sight both ethereal and terrifying. It was as if he held a new dawn in his eyes, the soft light fading the harsh darkness. It was hard to miss. Pasha had noticed it way before, but it was only a possibility. A possibility he couldn't believe. But in that street he had seen it with his own eyes. How far gone Qais was.