Surrender

Uncertainty

Afsana's POV

The fever had refused to let my stomach settle, bringing up its contents after every meal. Ziraar's mother had followed me, I could not explain my embarrassment. I wiped my mouth hastily
'I am sorry for that'

'You are unwell, I will send the healer to you'

Sakina had returned with the elderly woman, carrying her basket of supplies and left the chamber. The woman had a kind face, wise with age and experience. She examined my pale face and trembling limbs

'How are you feeling Bibi?'

'Not well at all'

'Have you had many occurrences of this sickness?'

'I think I may have a fever'

'I do not think so, you are not burning up, perhaps you feel weak and tired?'

'Very'

She turned to Ziraar's mother
'I cannot be sure but I think you will have a grandchild soon. I hope Khudai grants the Sardaar a son who will be as valiant and brave as he is'

A child? The revelation left me numb, I could not even care for my own self.

'If what she says is true, then you are not safe girl'

I sat up in fright

'What do you mean?'

She sat down besides me 'I mean that the other wives of Zaraar will seek to destroy both you and your child. You must keep this a secret until Zaraar returns'

'They would not go that far, they would not kill an innocent child'

Her expression was grim 'you have no  idea to what they can do, they have no limits to their cruetly'

I sat alone in the cave like chamber, despite its spaciousness it threatened to close in on me. Fear gripped my heart with icy fingers and squeezed. My stomach lurched again. Carefully I walked over to the large oaken chest and tried to prise it open. It drained all my remaining strength. Inside lay neatly folded mantles and garments, the strong scent of cardamom invaded my senses. Blindly I searched among the dark clothing until I reached the bottom and unearthed jars upon jars of cardamom. Crushed, whole and powdered with saffron and ginger. The herbal flavour calmed my pounding head and raging stomach. Then I laughed. Because only Ziraar would do such a thing, which sane person stored spices within his clothing? And that too a whole treasure of them, enough to last for years. I understood now why his mantle had smelled of cardamom,spice and wood. The memory was painfully sweet. If I closed my eyes and inhaled the scent of the clothing I could almost imagine he was present. But then clothing did not speak in short, harsh sentences. Clothing did not suddenly do the unpredictable. They lay limp in my hands, navy blue, ebony and dark green pine fabric. I never thought I would miss this strange, blunt Stranger so much, I missed him terribly, willed him to return because I needed someone to remind me of strength, courage and life.

I did not have the strength to stop the tears anymore, they flowed down my cheeks like rain.

Suddenly the latch on the window opened from outside and a dark figure climbed through it...