The dark blues studied the ivory towers from the window of the private ward. They looked calm and tranquil from afar. But only he knew the utter hell he has wreaked inside it. Only he knew the tears of blood that were being shed inside. And only he was happy about it.
When the news of the tragedy reached the Palace, it was first met with denial and then with horror and rage. Qais could've sworn he could hear the shrieks from miles away. And it was a melody to his ears. The news was rampant, the state was in chaos, and the King was at a loss. They had been late to save Mir Jahan.
On Qais's end of Shalimar however spring was at its peak. The young lord could barely keep his contentment hidden. He figured it was a punishment on its own; to hide his enthusiasm for the chaos he created.
The tribals who were a scapegoat for the entire ruse were fleeing on the mountains from a crime they never committed. General Jafar's incompetence was overlooked by his new operation against the "murderers" of Governor Jahan. In this despairing scenario, Nawab Shah, formal rival of the Mir and avid opposer of the militants, appeared as a humble ray of hope when instead of saying 'I told you so' he lowered his hat in commemoration of his lost "friend". The nation only had one weakness and that was emotion. Hence, they made sure to use every bit of it to their advantage.
Whether it was the North Council that selected the new Governor, or the people of it, both were puppeteered by Qais. The only variable in the field now was the King. He still had the power to change the tide Qais had been raging their way. Whether he choose to subdue it or intensify it, was a question for time.
"The Ameer keeps trying to reach you." Pasha held the ringing phone forth.
Qais let the device ring for a while savoring the desperation before finally taking mercy.
"Are you listening?" The man's voice seemed to have aged a decade in the past weeks. The desperation, the terror and the hope intoned in each syllable.
"Speak." The dark-haired hummed curtly.
"You have to help us..."
Have to. It piqued his brows with vexation. That was no way of asking for help.
"Haven't I done enough already? You've gained enough from the routes I gave you all these months." He toyed with their anguish.
"Gained?! I've lost half my family! And I'm going to lose the other half soon! You can take back everything we've fucking gained. It's worth dirt to me now!! Just help us for Lord's sake... They're after us like hounds for something we had nothing to do with." There it was, the right way to ask for help. Desperately.
"So you say. But I'm afraid the news all say otherwise." Qais tutted.
"We didn't do it! You can have me swear on my child, Qais, we didn't do it. Its the fucking militia."
Qais sighed, machiavellian blues glinting as he succumbed. "Fine... I'll give you one last route."
"What route?"
"Across the border."
"You want me to flee the country?!"
"Do you have a better option? Better yet, do you have any options?"
There was a helpless silence. They were going to be smuggled like the very drugs they made.
"Iran. I'll send some trucks to come pick you up and help you across the checkposts. You'll have to compromise a little on the way but once you're out my men will be waiting to receive you there."
"...What do you want in return?"
"You misunderstand me." Qais chuckled, the mere sound was salt on the man's wound. He had the leisure to laugh while they fought for their life. "I was your guest once. Let me return the favor."
YOU ARE READING
QAIS
Romance"She was his mirage, a dream he could only chase. He was her living hell, a nightmare she could not escape." Layla Mustafa is the only girl in her family allowed to go to university. Belonging to a strict patriarchal background, Layla, the shy and s...
