Threads of Gold

Five | پانچ

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After a slow survey of her surroundings in the silence that followed Arzam's whisper, Zartasha realized there was a man gazing at her through the mirror.

It was surely a stranger. No one of Sherquli soil would dare to rake eyes over their shehzadi in that manner. They wouldn't be bold.

She knew because she was the boldest Sherqul had.

His kurta was black like it was housing the night sky. His cloak was dripping sapphires, it was like the article of clothing had just returned to land after stealing the waves from an ocean. He wore it well and proud.

Well enough to make Zartasha stare. Proud enough to make her raise an arched, dark brow in question.

"Who are you?"

A rogue smile spread across his face.

No one questioned the Sultan, much less his identity. Arzam was all excited eyes and maddening curiosity as he began walking towards the shehzadi for a closer look.

He couldn't contain himself. Lack of recognition was new to him. It was interesting and so was she.

The fearful cries and screams of terror that commonly followed even the quietest whisper of his name had ought to be his favourite melody.

And he wanted to know how the woman standing in front of him would behave. Would she crumble in fear? Likely not, he thought. She had arrogant eyes.

Maybe she would mumble sorrowful apologies for failing to know who he was at first glance. As he continued to unabashedly stare at the shehzadi, head to toe, he realized that couldn't be a possibility. Her delicacy didn't seem demure.

The Sultan had never faltered on the battlefield, never faltered in raids for riches, never with his talwar.

Then, why is it that he wasn't trudging through her blood yet? He came here to slaughter her after all. It was the way of imperious rulers; eliminate anything that was a threat, anyone that was disobedient, he could even cut off one's air simply for them breathing in a manner he didn't like.

And he was allowed to.

In his contemplating thoughts, he stayed quiet.

He was ignoring her while standing in her own home. The audacity had Zartasha's eyes narrowing and chin jutting forward. "So you don't have an adequate identity to introduce yet you stand inside a royal mehal uninvited?"

Arzam then spoke, his rough voice piercing syllables like thorns, "If I wanted, this mehal wouldn't be standing." His rash nature was rushing back into his body. He began circling the Malka-to-be, his next words were murmured with the intention to antagonize. "It would be dust and debris beneath my feet."

He was right behind her when she whirled around and gave him a dry, condescending lift of her lips, "Who do you think you are to be making such claims, do you not know who I am?"

He feigned an expression of surprise then grinned when he saw anger growing on her face, "Do tell."

She was about to respond when she paused. Zartasha answered to no one in this dunya. Her calmness was striking when she gritted, "No. You are an unidentified stranger inside Sherqul's shahi mehal. How about you tell me who you are and what business you have here before I have your head?"

"Temper, temper." Sultan Hyderi chuckled. He couldn't believe that conversion with his quiet and currently mourning neighbours could bring such entertainment.

"I'm having you thrown out." Zartasha couldn't tolerate any more foolishness from a stranger. For all she knew, he could be an angry villager that barged in for retribution he felt he was owed on the nights his tawa was cold and his tongue was parched. Sherqul was blessed with grains but sometimes Zartasha wanted a shinier maang tikka, so the mulk had to cut corners.

Except that the towering man in front of her didn't seem like he went to bed hungry. Though he did have hunger in his eyes, it was not of the deprived kind. This hunger was immorally greedy.

Lazily, he leaned against the water fountain ledge and said, "By whom?"

The confident ease of his words was followed by the slow, trickling water that flowed from one curved plane of marble to another. The gulaab garden's floral redolence was regular but now she could sense a deeper hush in the nighttime breeze.

The shehzadi quickly examined her surroundings, eyes searching behind the ivory pillars and beyond the threshold of the back door. And when Zartasha couldn't sight a single silhouette of cream and crimson, that's when she grew alarmed.

✸ ✸ ✸

Deep into the shahi structure of sandstone, there was a chamber in Sherqul's mehal where the elders gathered to delve into their plans of action every week. As of now, they were contemplating how to proceed after Zartasha's announcement.

Angry murmurs were arising from Noman's tongue. Displeased wrinkles were creased onto Furqan's forehead. All owing to their shehzadi who had managed to catch them off guard.

The royal decorum for the young woman and her lineage was the puppeteer that made them hold their tongues in front of the public, but in reality, the aged men were distraught.

A deep sigh of resignation echoed off of the russet walls, "We cannot change what's already been done but we can-"

"Nothing has been done! What we can do is try to salvage the integrity of the Sherquli throne by marrying the girl off."
Noman exploded his interruption of Labib's statement. He was heaving and his ecru-coloured kurta was moving with his aggravated breaths.

Furqan frowned, "Though she has not yet been crowned, her announcement alone has shocked people but also given them a sort of hope."

Noman grumbled, "Foolish girl. How do we fix this any other way? A woman ascending the throne? On her own? Astaghfirullah, it's abhorrent."

Labib, the ever-diplomatic messenger, dared to say, "Maybe she isn't quite as foolish when she has two greying men troubled over her words."

A tinkle sounded when Furqan's bronze paandan clattered to the hickory stained stool beside him. Noman's vermillion vest crinkled as he sat upright. Both of them were astonished that Labib would say something in Zartasha's favour after what she did. And they were about to initiate a significantly heftier argument which would be riddled with cutting mentions of the council's past, including how Labib wasn't innocent either.

None were pure after involving themselves with royalty. It was an unspoken but well-known fact.

Before their disagreement could be voiced, there was a knock on the heavy metal door.

All three of them froze.

A frazzled Nusrat barged in and in her panic, she didn't give them any time to berate her before she spoke in between her panting breaths, "The Sultan of Kalthura is in the garden with the shehzadi and our line of immediate defence is gone, no guards are on duty."

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Quite delayed but it's here!!

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