Threads of Gold

Two | دو

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Soft slices of light filtered through the sheer curtains framing every archway lining the hall, displaying the lush courtyard. The warm wind rustled her silk garb, the ends of the sharara sweeping across marble flooring. The minutes before sunset painting Zartasha gold.

Murmurs of the crowd grew to chatter as she turned the corner and found Hashim huddled and absorbed in hushed conversion with a couple of her court's elders. They were surrounded by guards wearing a blend of cream and crimson, Sherquli colours. Members of the royal family and court were to be protected at all times, though she guessed that they weren't aware of the fact that she would be joining them today.

Gulzaan's citizens were gathered on the grounds. Sombre, anxious and interested all at once. Their Badshah's death dulled their moods, concerned as to why the mehal decided to open its gates to address them so soon, and wanting to know how to proceed after such a tragedy. Zartasha was going to provide them with an answer and a proclamation no one was ready for.

Seeing Hashim's conversation trickling to a stop and Noman, one of the elders, step forward towards the audience made her angry. Instead of escalating her ire and storming up to them, she stopped and decided to have her fun. She would wait on the threshold of the courtyard's main entrance and let them think that things would go according to their tastes and that they had everything under control. That they had Zartasha under control. Wrong. And stupid.

She would appear at the most unexpected of times during their false claims of goodness just to inflate their irritation and remind them that she could do whatever she wished, no matter how veiled or conspicuous their opinions may be. She supposed that appearing uninformed to a large assembly of people would be quite vexing for fragile egos.

Zartasha was playing with them and they didn't even know it. Her bow-shaped lips curled up to the right at the thought.

Resting her head on the cool limestone walls, the evening breeze lulled her senses and blew her dupatta off her head, the wind scented with roses and mind littered with thoughts of power. Zartasha leaned back and began observing, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Labib was a blur of motion, hastily moving across the length of the hallway in hopes to catch up to the princess. She didn't think he registered that she had slowed to a stop by the doorway and mused how far his worry would take him till he realized he was not chasing after a mere girl that was in need of guidance. For the world spun on her fingertips, storms took reality in the lightning sharp words that came out of her mouth, oceans drowned and dried under her treacherous gaze. Too many people in her own home underestimated her and she didn't like it one bit.

The advisor would probably miss her shadow in the corner or if he didn't, then he would voice his confusion and give her presence away to the others. To make it easier for both of them, she decided to whisper his name. He startled where he stood and when his aged eyes found her figure, Zartasha simply pressed her forefinger to her lips to quieten any words that were to leave him and dipped her head towards Hashim, and the elders, Furqan and Noman. Being a wise man in her court, Labib got the hint and left her to join the rest in the courtyard.

As the sky began tinting itself shades of periwinkle, buttery yellow, and rouge, Noman began his cacophony of twisty words meant to flourish in people's minds as wholesome. It didn't matter whether he was spewing nonsense or devout utterances because people were accustomed to easily trusting the elderly.