Shadow Seer [18+]

~ Fifteen ~

There was nothing but the sound of Sanaa's footsteps in the endless dark. She was shaking so hard her teeth were chattering, but she did as Amir had asked and followed his directions: Left, Left, Right, Right, Right, Left. She was on the second left, the passage long, dark, cold and never ending. With nothing to do but walk in the impenetrable darkness, Sanaa mulled over the attack and the fact that someone had clearly made a second attempt on Ghassan's life. The obvious culprit would be the Bashaii since Amir had killed their queen and princess, but she could only assume they would have learned their lesson because of those exact crimes. Sanaa knew nothing of military warfare, but she doubted Bashaii would have been ready quickly enough to retaliate against the murder of their royal family. Failing that, they would have still been in mourning for their queen and princess. The question remained then, if not Bashaii, then who?

Left, Left, Right, Right, Right, Left.

There were more than enough people in Cotai who would want Ghassan dead, Sanaa included, but who and why would they attempt to kill him over a decade into his reign and in view of a feast that entertained half the continent and beyond? Perhaps it was silly of Sanaa to think the world had become complacent simply because she had. She tried to defy Ghassan in small ways but there was no denying the truth of her situation. Ghassan's declaration at the feast that he would marry her was proof enough. She'd come no closer to stopping that chain of events than she was at gaining her freedom. She was powerless.

Sanaa's hand suddenly fell into open air and with tentative steps, she slid her foot forward until she hit a wall and then turned right. This passage seemed to go on longer than the previous ones and soon she panicked that she'd missed her next turning. She tread slowly, unsure what was on the ground beneath her soft slippered feet, but when she finally felt a corner, she took the next right. Feeling bolder, knowing she was closer to where Amir had directed, Sanaa quickened her steps as much as she dared and by following the last right and left, she soon came upon a faint light at the far end of the corridor.

Sanaa raced towards it, desperate to get out of the pitch of the passage. Soon, she came to a small oil lamp nailed into the wall. It sat comfortably beside a regular sized thick wooden door. She reached for the handle, pulled and entered a large bedchamber. Amir's bedchamber, she realised. The room was awash in warm desert hues; the walls painted in deep, golden ochre, reminiscent of the dunes at sunsets she'd seen from her bedroom window. The ceiling was painted with murals depicting desert scenes, camels, and various nomadic tribes. Awed, Sanaa stepped further into the room, onto the stone floor that was intermittently covered in soft, plush rugs made from the finest threads, dyed in deep reds, royal blues, and shimmering golds. The centrepiece of the room she occupied was an enormous four-poster bed with drapes of sheer gossamer fabric that billowed gently in the breeze, coming from a large window off to the right. The bedding itself was embroidered with gold thread and featured a mountain of white pillows, much like her own chambers. There was a small seating area arranged in one corner, beside a drinks cabinet and trolley ladened with gold decanters and ewers. There were opulent silk-upholstered sofas and armchairs, surrounded by low tables adorned with golden trinkets, antique books on low shelves, and fragrant incense burners. Woodsmoke. Sanaa smiled to herself as she continued looking around Amir's sanctuary.

All of his belongings, such as robes, bejewelled turbans, and finely crafted sandals she'd never seen him wear, were displayed in a dedicated dressing area, or thrown haphazardly on furniture, adding a sense of intimacy and personality to the space. Beyond the open bedchamber door, across a living room, a set of ornate double doors opened onto a private balcony. Heavy brocade curtains adorned with intricate patterns draped on either side of the doors. Her own rooms didn't have a balcony, of course, and while she ached to see where his room looked out to, she couldn't risk being seen.