Fickle

Chapter 20

Othman paced the grand hallway of the palace, the cool marble beneath his feet doing little to soothe his unease. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Hanifah’s words from the night before had been more than just a passing remark. Something about her tone, her gaze, had unsettled him deeply. She had always been sharp, opinionated, and ambitious—traits he admired in her, even if they were sometimes at odds. But lately, there was something else lurking beneath her demeanor, something darker.

He rounded a corner and nearly collided with Hanifah herself. She was dressed immaculately as always, her poise and elegance unshaken by the near mishap.

“Othman,” she said smoothly, recovering with a slight smile. “You’re in a hurry this morning. Is everything alright?”

Othman forced a smile, though his thoughts were racing. “Just restless,” he replied. “There’s been so much happening lately. Abdullah has a lot on his plate, and I worry for him.”

Hanifah’s expression softened, but Othman couldn’t tell if it was genuine. “Abdullah is strong. He always has been. But even the strongest can’t bear everything alone.”

Her words felt loaded, but Othman chose to let them pass. He didn’t want to escalate things unnecessarily. “I’m trying to be there for him,” he said. “The throne is a heavy burden, and with Kulthum and the children back in the picture... It’s a lot for him to balance.”

Hanifah’s smile faltered, and for the briefest moment, Othman saw a flicker of something he couldn’t quite place. Disdain? Frustration? “Kulthum’s return complicates things,” she said carefully. “But perhaps it’s a necessary complication. Abdullah needs to remember what’s at stake.”

Othman frowned. “What’s at stake is his happiness, Hanifah. His peace of mind. If Kulthum and the children can give him that, then we should support him.”

Hanifah’s eyes narrowed slightly, though her smile remained. “Of course. Family comes first.”

Her tone was so even, so measured, that it sent a shiver down Othman’s spine. Before he could press further, she stepped past him, her heels clicking softly against the marble as she disappeared down the corridor.

---

Later that evening, Othman found himself in the palace library. It was one of his favorite places, a quiet sanctuary away from the politics and expectations of royal life. He ran his fingers along the spines of the books, pausing occasionally to pull one out and leaf through its pages. But his mind wasn’t on the words before him. It was on Hanifah.

He couldn’t ignore the growing sense that something was amiss. She had always been fiercely protective of the family, but lately, her protectiveness felt more like control. And the way she had spoken about Abdullah—as if his emotions were a liability rather than a strength—didn’t sit right with him.

A soft knock on the library door pulled him from his thoughts. He turned to see one of the palace attendants, a young man named Farouk, standing hesitantly in the doorway.

“Prince Othman,” Farouk said, bowing slightly. “There’s someone here to see you. He… insisted it be discreet.”

Othman’s brow furrowed. “Who is it?”

Farouk hesitated, then stepped aside to reveal Neil standing in the shadows of the hallway. Othman’s stomach tightened at the sight of him. He didn’t know Neil well, but he knew enough to distrust him. This was the man who had caused Kulthum so much pain, who had driven a wedge between her and Abdullah. What was he doing here now?

“Prince Othman,” Neil said smoothly, stepping into the light with a casual confidence that immediately set Othman on edge. “I’ve been meaning to speak with you. Privately.”