Rajah's Curse

Chapter 55: His Sentence

"Dhiren," the sultan said, drawing me out of my stupor. He had let go of my sleeve and was standing in front of me. "I need you to bend down."

Bend down?

"Go on, bend," the sultan prompted, gesturing with his hand.

I tried to obey him.

"No, not like that...bow your head. Yes! There!" He took his damp turban from my hand and plopped it on my head. "Now stand up straight and hold these." He placed his diamond ring in my left hand and a tiny glass lamp in my right. "Now move slightly to the left so that you are centered. Yes, just like that. Perfect."

"Perfect?" I echoed, confused. How was any of this going to help with my execution?

I looked around, becoming even more perplexed.

Some time ago I suppose, I'd been interrogated by the sultan. He'd asked me all sorts of things to the point where I wasn't sure what was meaningful and what was asked to throw me off.

He needn't have bothered to try and confuse me. My mind was already too much of a mess for lies. Nor did I see a point to them.

Nothing would change the horrible truth and eventually, even the sultan saw that. When I had, at last, answered all his questions, he had said, "Unfortunately, I don't think you're lying Dhiren which is really too bad..."

He'd grabbed my shirt sleeve and beckoned me to follow him after that.

I let him lead me out of Jasmine's rooms not bothering to look up or protest, knowing he was taking me to my death but not caring about the specific destination of my last breath.

It didn't matter.

Jasmine...she was dead.

She was dead.

Dead.

And I...

I had killed her.

Her father knew all that now. He knew the whole story. I had left nothing out from the night's events. So, though the sultan was many things, I had no doubt my life was forfeit. Even when he had been magicked into being a fool, he'd never cringed away from using the death penalty for those who deserved it.

So, why had he brought me here?

Not to the dungeons or the palace guillotine.

Not even to the court or before my Mujulaai people for public condemnation.

Instead, I stood in a small grove that served as the crossroad for eight different sandy paths. Each one was lined with fruitless fruit trees.

It did not make sense.

This had to be the same orchard the sultan had taken me to a few days ago. But we had needed to ride horses to get here before, so how—

"Yes," the sultan cut in, "I thought perhaps you wouldn't be able, but luckily the betrothal seems to be enough."

"Enough for what?" I asked dully.

The sultan just responded to my question with another question. "Dhiren, do you know what the hardest part of being the sultan of Agrabah is?"

I stared at him.

"Go on. Try me," the sultan said, watching me.

The look in his eye reminded me of our earlier conversations when I still had something to lose. For a moment, I attempted to summon some kind of acceptable answer, but I had nothing. No perfectly proper and well-crafted response and really what was the point?