Bloodseed

Chapter 5

Chapter Five: It Was Meant For Your Heart.

Anarkali

It's a slap across the face.

I have hurt the wrong man.

All those posters across the city were not of the General but of his son.

The real threat stands across from me as I lie through my teeth. And he knows I am lying. I can tell by the hideous smirk he's plastered on. Baba's hands clench his armrests, and Anaya's grip nearly pinches me.

General Khalil's words have finally settled in, drawing their fingers around my throat.

Hashim's house was destroyed.

The General had come to convey his condolences.

The air in the room feels too thick, too heavy to breathe in as I stare at Anaya's trembling hands.

Had I killed Hashim?

No.

I couldn't have.

Anaya's staring at me as the room spins.

My gaze is centered on the General as he waits for Baba to reply. Utterly still, a statue shrouded in blue. He feels no remorse for the people he has killed. I will not let this tyrant of a man take my sister.

Baba stands, a hand wobbling on his handcrafted cane as he adjusts his frail fingers around the grooves in the wood. His back bends slightly more than usual, likely due to the weight of the General's disapproval as he looks down at him.

"Khalil," he says. "Please, allow us some time to think."

And it is my father, in all his experience and splendor, nearly begging against this foreign man that gets my mouth moving.

"Anaya will not marry your son."

It is my words that have the General's son stiffening as his tapping fingers finally halt. Even he senses the shift I have caused—the shift in his father's features. His eyes widen just a fraction, burning holes into the carpet. I've seen his face along the city walls a thousand times, enough to memorize what he looks like. I had taken the liberty of ripping down a few portraits myself last night.

Is he afraid?

He knows his father has used him as bait.

I stand, forcing my shoulders to cease their stiffening and relax. Appear as if I do not care just as much as I do. My knees threaten to wobble. I fear I might crash to the floor any second and make a fool of myself. Let the room see how much of a facade this is.

"Anaya," I repeat. "Will not marry Altan."

My sister's hand loosens on my sleeve, falling into her lap.

Altan stands, brushing off a speck of imaginary dirt from his lap. He nods, lowering his head towards Anaya, and then to Baba. Not towards me. I don't miss the small act of hostility.

"I respect your decision."

Khalil puts his arm out, bumping Altan's shoulder. His small wince of pain goes unnoticed by everyone in the room, just a small scrunch of his brow, but I see the way his eyes linger on me.

"Son," he says. "Perhaps we should let Anaya decide, yes?"

If I grit my teeth any harder, I fear my jaw might snap in half. I turn, grabbing my sister's arm. She doesn't meet my eyes. Instead, she looks at Baba. And as if some silent agreement passes between them, she stands.