Dameer Esfendyar al-Badr, the Crown Prince of the kingdom in exile, has long ago forgotten the rules of royalty.
Too bad Mahin Arsalan is back to remind him of every last one - especially the one that had haunted him for years :
❛ what is a king wit...
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SALAHDIR WAS BEAUTIFUL at night.
The howling of the wolves, edging towards horizons in their thirst for full moon; the deep slither of the desert winds, rustling the tunes of the soul; the monstrosity of the landscapes, engulfing the stricken minds; the roar of the ocean waves, crashing against the resolves of the tribes - Salahdir always bewitched when the sun started its descent.
Tonight, however, it was on fire.
In place of wolves, people howled; the rustle of the soul was caused by lies and deceit, and what crashed against the resolves was the sight of an empire falling and not mere waves. With ashes ablaze in the capital city, fumes of history and legends rising up in the night sky, Salahdir was falling.
"Move!" An elderly man barked across his shoulder, his feet stomping against the carved, marble floor as he made his way down a spiral staircase - anguish and tension visibly tightening his jaws.
"Baba, I can't," the younger man stood his ground on the top stairs, unsurety written across his taut but child-like features. "I can't leave without -"
"Son, there's no time, the military will be here any minute." A woman spoke as she appeared beside her son's rigid frame, placing her calm manicured hands on his chest.
"Mama, don't make me do this... I can't leave like this." By the time the words were out of his mouth, the old soul standing at the foot of the staircase felt his impatience slipping.
"Are you out of your mind?" The King bellowed, ascending a few steps as his gaze hardened.
Just then, chaos ensued as bullets biting the wall made the floor tremble, cries and shouts outside losing the pitch as a few men hurriedly made their way to the family settled on the staircase. Their gait screamed urgency; their eyes shouted for actions.
"Your Majesty, we have to leave right now." One man said, his body an amalgam of hard muscles and taut features.
"Look, son, you stay here, you die. Is that what you want?" The mother said, eyes moving from the man to her son who didn't seem fazed in the slightest by the commotion outside.
"I just want some answers." He seethed, looking down at his father who sneered at his remark.
"I'm having none of this right now. You're coming and any answers you want, you can come look for them later." The King said and with that as his final remark, turned and followed the man outside.
"Is that a promise?" The young prince shouted from behind, the desperation coming to rest on his features.
"Yes, that's a promise." The Queen said instead, her smile hard but enough for now.
And only on getting that shred of surety did the prince start the descent down the flight of steps. The uproar outside only seemed to intensify with each passing second, and he knew, a few moments later and he'd never make out of this country alive.
So, for now, he rested his case, placing his bets on his mother's promise and hopingagainst all oddsthat what was coming was mere exile and not the end of an entire childhood; hoping that what he was leaving behind was just a country and not his whole heart.
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