Jasirah (The Flame In The Palace )
- Reads 20
- Votes 0
- Parts 4
Tagsdance
The Breaking Silence of Abdeen
The marble floors of Abdeen Palace glowed beneath the flickering torchlight, casting golden reflections upon silk and shadow. Jasirah moved like a whisper of wind, hips swaying, arms unfurling like desert petals as the ancient drums called her body into rhythm.
She danced not to seduce, but to honour. Every motion told the story of the women before her mothers, healers, warriors who had turned pain into grace.
But Sultan saw none of that.
From his gold-threaded couch, half-drunk on wine and his own arrogance, he watched her with a gaze soaked in possession. His laughter cut across the music. Jasirah felt the shift in the room: joy turned to unease. Even the drummers hesitated.
And then..... the fall.
A crash. A scream. A cup spilled.
The Sultan collapsed, choking eyes wide, lips trembling. Guards rushed. Servants froze. The queen, fierce and unreadable, stood still as marble.
A blade was found. Slender, ornamental tucked into Jasirah's sash. Poison was traced in his wine, but it was her hands that held the cup last.
Jasirah's eyes, once alight with passion, now widened in disbelief. She knelt beside the body, but the guards tore her away.
In the distance, a single camera shutter clicked. Rashid.
All Rights Reserved
Join the largest storytelling communityGet personalized story recommendations, save your favourites to your library, and comment and vote to grow your community.
You may also like
Burning Desire
"Do you think I will listen to you?" he asks, leaning closer, his words dripping like poison. "You? Command me?" Her jaw tightens, but her body betrays her. The railing under her grip feels slippery, her fingers numb, her legs trembling uncontrollably. And then it happens. Her strength gives out. Her knees buckle. Her vision blurs. The railing slips from her grasp as her hand slides down cold stone. The world tilts, spinning into a haze of marble and golden eyes. She collapses slowly-first her knees weaken, then her shoulders slump, and finally her weight tips sideways. But she doesn't hit the floor. Zevran has been waiting. His arm snakes around her waist before gravity can claim her. His grip is firm, unyielding, catching her like fragile glass. Her head falls against his chest, hair clinging to his armor, her fevered skin burning against him. He looks down at her, lips parted, lashes heavy against flushed cheeks. So fragile. So breakable. And yet she shouted at him moments ago like she could bring him to his knees. Zevran exhales, amused, victorious. His smirk deepens as he tightens his hold. "See, sweetheart..." he murmurs, low and dangerous. "No matter how much you scream, no matter how much you fight me... you will always end up here." His eyes gleam with satisfaction as he lifts her trembling body. "In my arms." ---------------------------------------------------------------------- The story of a healer and a killer. Dive in it.
Women's Chambers
In the ancient kingdom of Jalil Madu, silence holds more power than a sword. Behind the carved doors of the royal palace, whispers travel faster than truth, and every woman carries a secret that could unmake a king. When Zubayr, a cold, devout teacher and hidden prince, takes a student as his wife, the kingdom stirs. What began as punishment becomes something darker a bond, neither mercy nor distance can break. Jiddah, once naive and reckless, returns to the palace transformed graceful, dangerous, unreadable. Her husband returns to find the girl he knew replaced by a woman he can no longer control. In the women's chambers, alliances shift, envy breathes, and shadows listen. A crown is about to change hands. A death will silence one heir. And between Zubayr and Jiddah, love is not tender. It's a game of faith, fury, and quiet revenge. No one speaks openly in the Women's Chambers, but everyone is watching.
Unspoken Hearts
He looked straight at me, ignoring the others. "So you're doing the lead now?" he asked, loud enough for everyone to hear. The music cut. All eyes turned. "Yes," I said, calm but firm. "Is there a problem?" He crossed his arms. "No, not at all. Except I didn't know you suddenly wanted to be center stage. Funny how that happened after he showed up." The he didn't need a name. I glared. "I've always loved dancing. You just never noticed." The entire room was silent. Even the choreographer awkwardly looked away. I could feel my hands shaking, but I held my ground. "Paras," I said through clenched teeth, "you don't get to question who I am becoming just because it doesn't fit your version of me." "Right," he scoffed. "So this is the real Meera? Suddenly dancing, suddenly in charge? Or just trying to impress Mr. Trustee?" Before I could respond, a voice interrupted from behind. Deep. Calm. Authority laced with danger. "If you're done embarrassing yourself, Mr. Khurana, I'd like to have a word with the event head." I turned-and there he was. Maan Singhaniya. "I believe Miss Shrivastav has more important things to do than entertain your insecurity," Maan added coolly. My jaw almost dropped. Did he just... defend me? I stood frozen, heart thudding. Maan turned to me. "May I have a word?" I nodded and followed him out like a lost puppy. Outside - Just Us Two We stopped near the garden behind the auditorium. "I didn't mean to interfere," he said, not looking at me. "But it was getting out of hand." "I'm glad you did," I replied, more breathless than I meant to be. A pause. Then he turned to me, eyes softer now. "You dance well." "You saw me?" "I see more than people think." Those five words sent a shiver down my spine. He didn't say anything else. Just gave a small nod and walked away. But this time... I wanted him to stay.
UNCONDITIONAL
"Do you call this shit food? Make me something else!" A woman Noor couldn't stand for a single second screamed at the chefs and servers. She turned around at the sound of Noor's heels at the kitchen entrance. Arms crossed, eyes piercing deep into her soul, Noor took a slow, intimidating walk over to her. "This...is not a restaurant. It's my house. The food prepared here will be of my choice. You're standing in my kitchen, speaking to my staff. One more word in a raised voice at them, and I will have you dragged out of here. Is that understood?" Noor spoke in a low, threatening voice. "I'm not scared of you." She managed to say in spite of being clearly terrified. "I'm Prem's guest and I will do whatever I want." Her voice broke as she shrugged taking a step back. "Also, shouldn't you be thanking me right now? My busy schedule let you borrow your husband from me last night." She had the audacity to invite a smirk to her lips. With a quick unforeseen step forward, Noor grabbed her by the throat and backed up against the wall behind her. She reached over for the knife on the counter next to her and brought it up to the throat she was holding. "Talk about my husband one more time, and I will slit your throat open." Noor wasn't joking. "You spend enough time with him to know I can do that, right?" She asked as she ran the knife along the side of the horrified face. "Noor!" Called out an angry voice from behind her causing her to drop the knife at once. She turned around to see Prem dressed a crisp cherry colored suit at the kitchen entrance. She took a moment to appreciate the day for bringing him across her twice in twenty four hours. She admired his beauty for a second before looking back at his mistress and pumping some hand sanitizer onto her palm from a nearby bottle. Slowly rubbing her hands together, she walked over to Prem and looked him in the eyes, "take care of your whore before I do." "You will stay the fuck away from her." Prem advised in a dangerous tone.Complete
Avni : His Silent Light
He held up his hands, trying to sound casual, but the sight stopped her cold-blood smeared across his fingers, dark and fresh. "Relax, it's nothing," he said smoothly, his voice trying to soothe, but her heart pounded in stark disbelief. Her eyes widened, fixed on the crimson stains, a silent scream caught in her throat. Horror dripped from every glance. "Nothing? You killed him," she whispered, voice barely steady, trembling with a mixture of fear and accusation. "You're a murderer." He scoffed, a cold shadow flickering in his unreadable eyes. "Don't insult me wifey. I'm above that." The weight of his words pressed down like a guillotine as she steadied herself, voice sharp with defiance. "I'll tell everyone. I won't marry you." A slow, cruel smile curved his lips as he leaned in, his breath ghosting against her ear like a deadly promise. "Will you? Go ahead-tell everyone. I'll destroy everything you hold dear, just like your telling would destroy mine. We'll go down together." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. "And as for not marrying me... oh wifey , you don't get to choose. You'll be mine-whether it's in a wedding dress, or buried in a legend". He wasn't supposed to pull her in-didn't even understand why he was drawn to her. She wasn't the most beautiful, but something beneath the surface called to him. A ruthless heir haunted by betrayal, he never let strangers close... yet he craved to keep her. ☆☆☆☆
This is How it Starts
Power built on secrets never stands for long. Laila never belonged to this world. She wasn't raised in it. She didn't want it. But when her father's debt put a target on their backs, she was forced to survive the only way she could-by stepping into the shadows that ruined them. Now she's in deep, and there's no clean way out. At the center stands Emir-untouchable, calculated, and quietly watching her every move. She doesn't trust him. He doesn't trust anyone. But when the cracks in his empire start to show, Laila is pulled into something far bigger than a debt. Someone inside is betraying them. Files are missing. Enemies are closing in. And every clue points to the one place no one wants to look: within. Omar wants the truth. Nura tries to keep the peace. Yasmine is never where she says she is. And someone is working with the enemy. Laila didn't come here to take sides. But she's already on the board. And when the lies fall apart, no one will walk away clean.Complete
Devil's Dynasty
Previously known as "The Ceo And His Hijabi" *** The night was dark. Ruthless and forbidden. It was like the murkiness was calling him in the arms of lurking demons, the demons which had always been there with him, teasing him mocking him. He stood before the window, looking down at the city, which was glittering as if thousands of stars have descended down from the sky, each scattering as far as a human eye could see. The tall buildings stood there, an aura of pride surrounding them, reminding him the consequences of the evil power that he had faced. His heart was beating in a sinful rhythm but the devil, oh the devil, he stood there in the darkness as if it was his own cloak, his own shelter. "Tell me this is a lie," The little Muslimah whispered. Her voice hoarse with emotions, her throat perched from all the crying that she had done in the past hour. The truth that laid before her had broken her. "Either you believe the artificial lie or realize the truth lying before your eyes." His voice was cold, devoid of any emotion. His mind but his heart, it was in chaos. A cry of pain escaped the Muslimah's lips but he stood there, unwavering, listening to the tortured soul. "How long? How long have you kept this from me?" She questioned him. Her green eyes held a fire which he had never seen before. It was dangerous because it could consume her, becoming the reason for her own downfall. He knew after telling her the truth there was no coming back but he was a man of character and no matter how comforting a lie is, he would always go for the truth even if it meant chaos.
𝗦𝗜𝗬𝗔𝗠𝗜𝗞𝗔:𝗖𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝘃𝗼𝘄𝘀. 𝗗𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝗲. 𝗥𝗼𝘆𝗮𝗹 𝗿𝘂𝗶𝗻.
A fierce princess. A ruthless Mughal king. Bound by a cold, political marriage neither wants. In ancient India's royal courts, love will have to fight through silence, fire, and forbidden desire. Historical romance. Slow burn. Dark passion. _____________________ The courtier had laughed. Too loud. Too long. And Siyamika had smiled-just for a moment, just out of politeness. But that was enough. Later that night, the palace corridors whispered with the sound of heavy footsteps. Her chamber door slammed shut. She barely had time to rise before he was in front of her. Zayyan. Cloaked in emerald, his jaw tight, eyes burning with something she couldn't name-but it wasn't cold. Not this time. "Was he amusing, rajkumari?" His voice was quiet. Deadly. "Did his jokes warm your lonely little evenings?" Siyamika stepped back, her spine brushing the carved pillar behind her bed. "I only smiled. It was-" "Too much," he growled. "Too soft. Too pretty. Too tempting." He reached for her chin, fingers curling firm, almost rough. She gasped-more from the closeness than the grip. "You are mine." "And if I have to remind you..." his gaze dropped to her lips, "...I will." _____________________________ Then he kissed her. Not with affection. Not with tenderness With anger. With control. With punishment. Her hands pushed at his chest-resisting, struggling-but he didn't move. Didn't stop until he had tasted every ounce of the fire he tried to bury. When he finally pulled away, his breath was ragged. Hers was stolen. "Let that be your last smile for another man," he said, voice like thunder. "Or next time, I won't stop there."Complete
"Do you think I will listen to you?" he asks, leaning closer, his words dripping like poison. "You? Command me?" Her jaw tightens, but her body betrays her. The railing under her grip feels slippery, her fingers numb, her legs trembling uncontrollably. And then it happens. Her strength gives out. Her knees buckle. Her vision blurs. The railing slips from her grasp as her hand slides down cold stone. The world tilts, spinning into a haze of marble and golden eyes. She collapses slowly-first her knees weaken, then her shoulders slump, and finally her weight tips sideways. But she doesn't hit the floor. Zevran has been waiting. His arm snakes around her waist before gravity can claim her. His grip is firm, unyielding, catching her like fragile glass. Her head falls against his chest, hair clinging to his armor, her fevered skin burning against him. He looks down at her, lips parted, lashes heavy against flushed cheeks. So fragile. So breakable. And yet she shouted at him moments ago like she could bring him to his knees. Zevran exhales, amused, victorious. His smirk deepens as he tightens his hold. "See, sweetheart..." he murmurs, low and dangerous. "No matter how much you scream, no matter how much you fight me... you will always end up here." His eyes gleam with satisfaction as he lifts her trembling body. "In my arms." ---------------------------------------------------------------------- The story of a healer and a killer. Dive in it.
More detailsContent Guidelines