Chapter 22: Nineteen | انیس

—————

Her worn eyes strained with the effort to open up in the face of the darkness and thin slices of night that filtered through what the cracks in her surrounding walls allowed.

She knew the sun had set and risen several times since she'd been captured and left to await her unknown fate in Kalthura.

Time was a paheli.

It was never constant, akin to the rampant waves of a river - willing to change the shape of the surface it shared with the land if it meant moving on but, sometimes, water fell stagnant and people became stuck in the past.

A similar thing happened with Nusrat. After a few moments of feeling the silvery sheet of the moonlight upon her face, the mature handmaiden decided to close her eyes to signify her battle against dusk as lost again before thinking back to the moment that brought her where she was.

It was some days ago, the exact numeral was lost in a sea of the Sherquli woman's memory but she starkly remembered the moment she realized that Zartasha had disappeared.

That afternoon under the hot Kalthuran sun and the supervision of Sherquli officials, the shehzadi had run off to do what she wanted but whatever it was, Nusrat prayed it would end up in the Fahim heir's best interest.

She grew worried and to put a stop to the ever-increasing restlessness of the Sherquli guards that shadowed their journey, she quickly spoke to the soldier beside her after pointing at one of the many looming caves of worn thread.

"I believe that's the tent the shehzadi went into, I will accompany her back here."

When the rigid sentinel slowly nodded in response, the handmaiden could tell an invisible countdown determining the shehzadi's fate had already begun.

As the humid breeze rippled across the fabric of her loose kameez and the sand particles around her feet felt like they were stuck in her throat, Nusrat realized she now had no choice but to enter the random night-shaded tent at the end of her thick finger.

While making her way forward, the Sherquli woman prayed to find the shehzadi in there by some miracle but what greeted her when she lifted the flap of the tent's entrance terrified her.

It seemed as if the triad of Kalthuran soldiers there were waiting distinctly for her.

And that was the last moment she recollected of being able to stand in a place out of her own free will.

✸ ✸ ✸

The sky that night was a ballad of the Malka's evasive blue smoke and the Sultan's charred patience.

Twilight in Kalthura was a vision foreigners always had mentions of on their reminiscent tongues after having made it out of the black hole-like mulk alive but Zartasha was alarmed at the way the glittering moon appeared to hang low enough to touch.

She paused her racing steps when she understood how nature eclipsed her reality in that moment and it was as if time had stood still. The Sherquli shehzadi concluded that if she wanted to achieve true power in her world, then she would have to use her status as Kalthura's Malka faultlessly. She thought about how she could have the moon resting in her palm if she wanted to and all because she was in the Hyderi mehal's glass-stained walls, as the queen of the land's ruler.

Zartasha realized that, ironically, the chances of increasing her propinquity to her rightful throne were greater if she stayed under the Kalthuran sky for now, rather than suffocating in the dense Sherquli air.

She knew she had to play her cards cautiously from this point onwards, maybe even bear the Sultan's lovesick words and maddened gaze, if she wanted to get to where she knew she belonged - as Malka of her own land, ruling with an iron fist.

And so, Zartasha turned towards the wisps of the sooty sky she could see from the open varicoloured shutters of a panelled window, and stopped to watch the darkening raat.

She noted how the aasmaan turned into a rippling sea of ink as she blinked. The new bride could hear the sharp winds humming a restless tune, she saw the bleakness of the black sky, and watched the slopping sand dunes come alight under the pearlescent moonlight. Zartasha was taken aback at the raw beauty but forced herself to turn into a still stone adorned in red when she heard a set of footsteps echo loud.

As she stepped closer to the stained glass mosaic, she realized it was not a mere aperture to look out of but rather an entrance to an expansive balcony carved out of granite.

The new bride knew she had to make a decision, and she had to make it quick - hence why Zartasha kept pacing towards the open-air veranda, overlooking the vibrant shehr.

She chose to test her sway with the Sultan. And so the soles of her feet carried her to the edges of the jagged balustrade and that is when she had an epiphany.

The oddly ominous design was crafted into existence on purpose, the Hyderi mehal had been created with the intention of being the epicentre of people's nightmares. It was not hard to understand that the rugged stone was meant to mimic an animal's snarl with iron bars that signified a predator's sharp teeth.

Despite the ill fitting sense of tranquility she felt there, on that platform bringing her closer to Qalmazar's horizon, Zartasha forced herself to stop admiring the raw beauty of Arzam's mulk.

She straightened her back and listened to his tread become louder and louder and louder.

The Malka stopped where she stood, her feet turned stationary and when she became certain that she was within his arm's reach, Zartasha moved a step farther - only for pretence's sake, to put up the guise that she was still amid her escape but alas, like a piece of bark catching fire, the Sultan caught his Malka.

Arzam knew she was waiting there for him but he was not one to ignore his Lord's favours when they were bestowed upon him.

He curved a corded arm against her waist and pressed himself close. Standing at her back, the supreme ruler of Kalthura tilted his head towards the clouds and inhaled a deep breath of unadulterated, male satisfaction at having access to his dulhan once more.

In a dry voice, Zartasha commented, "Took you a while there."

She then pulled him out of his bliss by turning around in his hold and pushing her own body forward to back him against the metal rods that signified where the Hyderi mehal's lofty premises ended and where the jurisdiction of the siyah Kalthuran sky began.

As the new bride looked at her husband's strong back against the metal railing and noted how tightly his left arm gripped the iron, she realized the tender haze was fading away from Arzam's face and in place was a shikari whose sole focus was now devouring her, his prey.

She could spot how he held his balance effortlessly with the layered muscles in one arm. After all the man was rumoured to be a beast on the battlefield. Her gaze locked on his wild one but the sharpening of the golden specks of his irises and the narrowing of his stare was alarming enough for her to break the sparring match between their eyes.

She centred her attention on the sturdy slope of his left shoulder and only then noticed the red ribbon of fabric bunched under the fist he had made around the rod of the balustrade. The Malka had the unexpected cognizance that the Sultan could only keep an immovable grip upon two things with instantaneous ease if he naturally harboured the capability to.

It seemed the supreme ruler of Kalthura was left-handed and the world around them remained unawares.

Since she was too occupied with discovering the Sultan's secret quirks, she was unaware too - of the precise moment she was encased in his arms again and in his place at the end of the granite balcony.

Zartasha had no choice but to silently catch her breath at the whiplash and she knew the sudden fear in her had to simmer down if she were to face him.

The Sherquli heir also noted the subtle shift in Sultan Hyderi's posture that followed as he pulled her towards himself with both arms and crossed his fingers together against the curve of her waist.

He made sure her back was not to touch the railing.

Arzam wanted to have her being at his mercy, he thought it was only fair since he had forfeited his heart to her. The Sultan had been at her mercy ever since he had laid eyes upon the princess of Sherqul, commanding him forth to do her bidding with that haughty, cutting gaze of hers.

Eyes of onyx that usually housed an ocean of arrogance were welled with terror today and a glimpse of his bride's turmoil was enough reason for him to cup the back of her head with his left hand and guide it to his shoulder.

He shifted the bunched red fabric to his right hand which was now the only barrier between Zartasha and the speared railing.

A smile stretched across Arzam's lips at her lack of complaint and he pulled back enough to coo, "You know you can never run from me."

At his words, the rebellion in the Malka's body awakened and she slowly attempted to tug her limbs out of his hold.

Arzam began running a strong, soothing hand through her locks instead, "Then why do you try, meri jaan?"

As he smoothed out her dark waves from her crown to their wispy ends, she understood that although his words would appear sweet to an audience, how he spoke them petrified her to her core.

It was full of rapacity and uttered in a baritone that was unnaturally quiet for the Sultan.

Zartasha froze in his arms.

Arzam was gleeful, he had his mouth against her ear and he could feel her, she was close enough for him to not be threatened by the height of the shadowed veranda behind his precious dulhan. Still, the king of kings pulled at the dip above her hip bone and brought her attention forth.

He continued, "You need to understand my arms are your safe haven before they are your freedom's demise."

The Malka took in a sharp breath at the reminder that she was now bound to the crazed man in front of her.

Sultan Hyderi's voice darkened as he said, "They are your protectors, they will chase away any hindrances between you and your dreams."

He pressed his heated palm against her torso in a squeeze to prove his point, "You can rest within them while they kill for you."

The slow breeze sashaying around their pair faded away when the last part of his sentence seized her senses and she was reminded of the loss of life.

The Fahim heir craned her neck away to look at the jutting expanse of slumbering civilization beneath her and swallowed dryly once she heard his words echo in her periphery.

She couldn't help out her observations in her trepidation, "You talk about protecting me while you dangle me on this edge?"

The Sherquli shehzadi's eyes turned into heated embers of black smoke as she turned back to glare at her husband's staggered face, "You hold me to stake your claim but that too with your weak side?"

She jutted her tapered chin and flared her nostrils before accusing him, "You favour your left yet you are assured that your non-dominant hand is enough to keep me safe."

The Sultan's visage was a picture of silent contemplation before he took his right hand off of her and swapped it for his left one. He splayed his large fingers on her back, almost taking up the entire expanse of skin between one shoulder blade to the other.

When he spotted her eyes following his movements, Arzam simply quirked his sinuous mouth in a gashing smirk before using his other hand to bring her dupatta between them and loop it around her kamar.

With the use of only his right hand, he then pulled at the length of surkh and wrapped it around his own brawny abdomen.

After securely tying the damask silk solitarily with one hand, he looked up and the Malka could swear she saw a monster's glimpse in his face. Long black strands serrated his vision of glinting gold as he stared at his bride.

Once he was done, Sultan Hyderi brought his touch to her face and tucked the obsidian locks away from her pallid cheekbones.

He was struck by her beauty once again, it was as if their Lord had made a human from sang e mar mar instead of wet clay.

But alas, all people were made of the same mud with the same greed and anger in their hearts.

He was reminded of her mortality when he noticed her fist clenching at the proximity between them.

The supreme ruler of Kalthura decided to egg her on, "What arm would you prefer I use?"

Then in an infuriating manner, he kept switching the hand in her hair with the one warming her back.

When Arzam moved his weighted hands around for the third time, she clutched the one tracing her hairline, which oddly enough, turned out to be his left.

The Sherquli shehzadi hissed, "I would prefer you keep both of them to yourself, I am not a thing for you to hold."

Unconsciously, Zartasha had stepped into him. She was pressed against him as she stabbed her finger into his chest to emphasize her irritation.

Her husband responded with a heavy groan after leaning his head back to stare up at the inky aasmaan. He could feel her everywhere, warming up his rich blend of cotton, her slender curves moulded into his chiselled wall of a body.

He inhaled sharply through his nose and the thin noise was replaced by a deep exhale through his mouth before he admitted, "Definitely not a thing."

The Sultan's throaty voice and suggestive innuendo grabbed her attention. His pointed gaze referring to their closeness made her realize the intimacy she might have initiated when she wanted nothing of the sort, so the new bride pushed him back and turned away from the perimeter of the gallery.

Zartasha's manoeuvres took him with her. Since they were tied together with a river of red, Arzam was naturally at her heels and shadowing her back, but he paused and pulled on the woven dupatta between them to force her to a stop when he realized that she would keep walking away and the night might lose its momentum.

In order to avoid chasing her down once more and aggravating her further, he called out from behind, "You were correct, I am dominant on my left. It's an intrinsic oddity, but a king is nothing if he does not learn to master his reflexes amongst all else."

The king of kings then wrapped the length of fabric hanging between them around his right wrist - once, twice, thrice - until his body was situated right at her back and to his surprise, the Malka twisted to look at him and asked, "So you say you've mastered the art of controlling everything around?"

The Sultan rasped out a laugh and countered, "Only the things I wish to control," his eyes brightened at his next move and he gleefully whispers, "Luckily for you, my influence extends farther than my surroundings."

With that, he pushed at her waist and jerked his forearm in the opposite direction, sending his dulhan into a pivoting series of spins. He saw the carmine florals on the hem of her dress bloom to life under the moonlight, he saw the threadwork on her blouse glitter after catching the light of the gemstones that were used to decorate the gates of the Hyderi mehal, but mostly, he heard her existence sing mellifluously into the air as chiming noises came of her gold jewellery with every turn she took.

Zartasha, once done moving with the wind, almost laughed at the ridiculousness of her Sultan but caught herself. She reminded her exhilaration that she needed to make it apparent to Sultan Arzam Hyderi that he couldn't control her.

With challenge dripping from the mapping of her face, she pulled at the unravelled surkh dupatta and unquestionably, Arzam came to her.

After she took an exasperated breath at his eminent profile of rugged masculinity and ardour, she turned back to look at the dark corners of the Hyderi mehal and decided to put his need for her to use.

She donned a saccharine tone of voice to bait him, "Why doesn't this mulk's great master give me a glimpse of his mehal then? A tour, perhaps?"

Zartasha even added in a flitting, almost incorporeal touch on the Sultan's arm and batted her sooty lashes, smudged with kohl, for good measure. When she spotted his spellbound countenance and his response in the form of him sharply jerking his head in a nodding motion, she laughed.

Freely and without a care in the world.

However, the supreme ruler of Kalthura was simply content to watch her. A man of his magnitude satisfied after hearing his wife's giggles was an astounding thing - but that was the power of ishq. And when push comes to shove, no man is safe from such an ailment.

The Sherquli princess raised both her brows after her laugh faded into a smile.

Her silence conveyed how she killed two birds with one stone. She proved to her husband, that no matter what, she knew the art of control well and that she could easily sway his own with a snap of her nimble fingers.

And the Malka would also free herself from the clutches of the unknown. She would learn the corners of the Hyderi mehal so she wouldn't end up lost in the gleaming architecture when she wished to run. After all, knowledge was power.

With that thought, she flattened her face into cold nonchalance and walked towards the Sultan while pulling at the cloth of red tying them together with each step she took. And when the Malka was convinced Arzam was adrift in a trance, she slowly unknotted the dupatta's edges from his chiselled brawn.

Zartasha could feel the heat in his gaze as he watched her lean her arm away and quickly unwrap the makeshift belt he had made around her own waist.

The supreme ruler of Kalthura was forced out of his daze when she held up the soft damask material in between them as if it was a curtain and then rustled it hard.

As the recoiled air that the surkh dupatta left behind became one with the lulling breeze of Qalmazar's twilight, Sultan Arzam Hyderi's simmering eyes came alive.

The new bride turned and began walking away from him but after taking a few assured paces, she stopped.

Looking over her shoulder, she arched a dark brow and chimed out a tempting question for the king of kings, "Well, are you coming or will you leave me be for the night?"

She couldn't suppress her guileful smile as she heard thundering footsteps behind her, only this time, Zartasha knew they were not going to chase her down but rather be there to match her steps instead.

✸ ✸ ✸

The last third of the awaited night passed with irrevocable ease.

To the Sherquli shehzadi's surprise, Arzam trudged comfortably at her side as they passed one of the many bejewelled hallways of the Hyderi mehal.

She had a feeling it was not because the Sultan was such a considerate and respectful host but rather that he must gain an odd sort of pleasure from watching her.

Zartasha decided to ignore his wandering stare and asked him questions, sometimes harshly and sometimes abruptly, to which he diligently responded, catching her off guard.

Under the glow of the warm oil lamps, Arzam was content with watching her. She gave him a chance to share the night with her razamandi and he would be damned if he didn't take it.

As they passed by an overarching corridor lined with obsidian cut in jagged squares to encapsulate nature's beauty lying on the other side of the mehal's walls, Zartasha couldn't mask her awe. She ran towards the window and looked up at the moon.

The beauty that caught her attention was not the pearlescent celestial body in the sky but rather the striking contrast the reflection of it casted upon sharp black gemstones. Gemstones thick enough to be used as tiling for a large portion of the mehal's framework.

The onyx of the dulhan's eyes glittered as she traced the silver aks with her stare and lost in the ethereality of her view, she turned her eyes full of jewels and stars to her husband and said, "We don't have nights like this in Sherqul."

Zartasha realized that she was forgetting herself but then thought there could be no harm in indulging the Sultan with some further conversation, "I have never seen a night like this."

And as his Zar turned back to stare out the dark aperture, the supreme ruler of Kalthura murmured to himself, "Neither have I."

Except his gaze was solely focused on his bride's silhouette and he knew that would now forever be the only view he wished to admire.

—————

How are you?

It has definitely been a while but life never stops, it is what it is, but thank you for reading - as always.

What was your favourite part?

Vote and comment <3