CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

AMON RUBBED SLEEP OUT OF his eyes as he opened the doors to the breakfast chambers, his eyes skimming over the king who sat at the head of the table without a single thought. He bowed towards the servants that stood silently, making his rounds through the tables to see what was being served this morning.

Khai watched his uncle warily, sharp eyebrows rising in surprise. He had expected Amon to notice him. He chewed slowly, counting to fourteen before swallowing, his eyes carefully glued on the moving body.

Amon made his way to the table, sitting to the right of the king’s seat. He dug his fork into a roasted fig before chewing it quickly, his eyes wandering around the perfectly lit room before falling on his nephew’s face.

He launched into a fit of coughs.

Khai only stared silently back.

“Caliph,” the uncle stifled out, his fist relentlessly pounding into chest to calm himself down. The best swordsman in Yaheisea swallowed hard, wincing at the burning sensation that ran down his throat. “Good morning. You’re here rather...late.”

The Malik only hummed in a deep velvet tone, his fingers playing with the copper bracelet. He wore plain loose clothes that hung low on his shoulders, his hair free and unfixed. “I slept far more than I liked.”

Gods, he wondered why he had to see his nephew at this early hour in the day. Or rather, this late. He knew Khai prefered to eat his breakfast early and alone unlike him, who preferred to have Zaabit as company. Where the hell is he?

Of course, it didn’t matter now. It was like hoping for rain to fall in the desert and instead getting a sandstorm. Amon just didn’t know how to break the news of what he saw last night to the king. He cursed at himself for having to do it. Out of Zaabit and Sinbad, Amon hated bringing unfortunate words to him.

Amon set the porcelain fork down softly, almost like a mother’s caress. He looked at Khai head on. “Something rather...interesting happened last night that your queen and I experienced together.”

The Caliph’s eye twitched at his uncle's unique choice of words. Something bitter and cool ran through his entire body. The specific word for it was hard for him to grip with an iron fist. His hand went to the copper bracelet that sat on his right hand, pulling on it for reassurance.

Sonya’s father continued talking, a hand flying across the air to demonstrate. “A shooting star, but it was not. Rather it was...well…” His hands were flying everywhere.

Khai closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. “If you’re referring to the flame, then let me reassure you that Zaabit had already informed me.”

His eyes went wide. “He did?”

“I had breakfast with him and he had told me when he left only moments before you had entered.” The king almost smiled as another memory was being retrieved. “As well as Sonya, though she was more enthusiastic about it than the both of you.”

“Ah…” was all Amon could handle to say. Anything more and he would sound like a fool.

THIS WAS THE FIRST TIME he felt like prey. Sinbad was always the predator, always seeking to find new lands across the world so he could share it with the people in Yaheisea. But everytime he stepped out of his room, he was constantly looking behind his back, always looking for one face: the Malika's.

The voyager needed to check up on his ship at the docks to see if it was polished and repaired to his liking for his next trip in less than three months from now. He wished that he could leave earlier so he didn’t have to deal with Mazeeda and her wrath. Sinbad’s pride was stopping him from apologizing to her for the way he had acted and spoke to her in Khai’s room.

He turned the corner of the open hall to have some breakfast first. And after that, he hoped he would be able to get some sun; staying cooped up in his room for the majority of the day was becoming dreadful. Sinbad would rather drink salted water than stay confined in his empty room.

Sinbad stopped short of his thoughts to catch a glimpse of himself through the mirror hanging on the ivory wall of the hallway. Angling his face, he ran a hand across his jaw and chin. He clicked his tongue and sighed. Gods, he thought to himself, I need to shave. I can't have my face-

From the corner of his eyes, he caught a glimpse of Mazeeda obliviously walking his way.

"Shit," he mumbled as he started to walk the other way.

ADELAH AND NYLAH HALF-HEARTEDLY AND tiredly put on the storyteller’s dress, a combination of iris and grey. Even with their eyes half closed and heavy with slumber, the sisters put on the saree tightly and securely. Mindlessly, their hands and fingers moved around the fabric, straightening any wrinkles and dents that could be evident.

Mazeeda tried to stay as immovable as she could as she let the two sisters do their daily ritual, but that small task was proven to be difficult for even a masterful storyteller. Sure, she could weave out meaningless stories to the king, but to stay still? That seemed like a problem she could not solve; it was like asking her to distinguish the variance between salted and unsalted water just by looking at it. Perhaps if it came down to telling the difference between a single grain of sand from Yaheisea to that the sand she was born on, she could, in an instant.

The Malika would have to stay still, as still as a prey who knows they’ve been spotted.

The sun had just begun to rise over the vast horizon. That was a good sign for the storyteller. For the past few days, she had taken note and plucked out information regarding the whereabouts of Sinbad.

From what she had learned was that the voyager had his breakfast quite late, or rather unusually late compared to, Khai or Amon -who both took their breakfast far before it is even time to call it dawn. To say who woke up first between the two was like asking if the sun rose first before the moon rather than saying the moon rose first before the sun. For Sinbad, he took his breakfast when the sun was just high enough over the horizon that your thumb could fit between the rising gap.

Nylah was no fool to the queen’s unspoken plans. The maid knew exactly why Mazeeda had been having such fluctuations in her sleeping cycle, making her tired with each passing day. Gods, everyone seemed to have some type of knowledge of what the queen was trying to accomplish, everyone except the storyteller and the voyager themself.

The two sisters looked at each other as the door sealed shut behind their queen.

“She’s going to run into him today,” Adelah said amusingly. “I feel luck on my side.”

The younger sister hummed. “That’s what you have claimed these past few days and I must say that you are yet again wrong.”

“Fine.” Adelah looked towards the door once more. “Don’t forget that the bet tripled this time around, so do not cry like a baby deprived of milk when I win.”

THE SCRAPING OF A SPOON against the plate, the swallowing of water, the deep, hollow sound of a cup being placed onto the long empty table filled the massive room. Staring straight to the painting of a lioness basking in the sun that she saw everyday since she had gotten to the qasr, Mazeeda chewed her food slowly, unhurried as if nothing was bothering her. Indeed, she was used to having her breakfast unaccompanied, had become accustomed to the silent presences of the servants ready to aid at the wave of her hand. She felt like an abandoned camel amidst a sandstorm.

For the past twenty minutes, Mazeeda had been doing nothing but buy time, waiting for Sinbad to walk through those doors. Sadly, she was only found with disappointment; she knew this was around the time the voyager would take his breakfast. This was a different type of disappointment -almost like wishing for rain in a dry, dry desert when you aren’t going to get it- she had gotten her hopes up when she shouldn't have. No matter, now that she knew how to stall her death, she could play around with time, which she had a lot of at the moment.

“Malika,” a servant stepped forward, head bowed. “I have just gotten word that Sinbad has not woken yet.”

The storyteller tried to make eye contact with the young man as she said, “It’s okay. I was just about to leave.”

“I’m sorry.” He finally looked up, startled and flushed to find her gaze powerful.

The queen got out of her seat and bowed lower before getting into her respective position. “It’s no matter, really.”

“Have you finished eating, Malika? You barely touched your food after all this time.” He gestured to the bounteous display of food on the table that was more than likely to be thrown out afterwards.

She smiled, almost like a mother’s, though it was certain between the both of them that they were both at the prime age of nineteen. “If it concerns you so much, I’ll be taking this apple.”

With a shy smile, the young man bowed and stepped to the side to let his queen pass by.

HUMMING TO AN ANCIENT TONE that she learned from her mother, Mazeeda tossed the apple into the air before catching it. She needed to find a way to get Sinbad out of his cave, no story could coax him out. A storyteller against a storyteller would do nothing but bring complete nonsense, at least, in her opinion. I want to hear all of the stories about his voyages outside of Yaheisea, she thought, at least his stories are true unlike the one I weave for Khai.

Finally biting into the apple, she was surprised by its sweetness. Apples were far and rare in Evilla, so that distant memory of crispiness and aggressive tartness pleasantly surprised her. The last time she had such an apple was nearly two years ago when Mazeeda’s father travelled for weeks on end to seal a trade deal and union between natives who lived on flat and green land.

As she turned the corner into a long corridor, Mazeeda realised that she had no place in this palace but as a piece of pawn in Khai’s endless game of death. Her job was to die and be thrown out like scraps, but it’s been three months since she was supposed to be dead that first night, and now what was she supposed to do now? To sit still and look pretty?

If she was going to continue living until the hour glass turned empty, Mazeeda wanted to be involved more with the social, economic, and political aspects of Yaheisea. It was entirely different from Evilla, who only had a tribe leader with his small council and not an entire kingdom. Perhaps she was being too ambitious but-

Is that...Sinbad?

She squinted, not sure if her eyes were deceiving her like a mirage would in the desert. It was him! The queen knew that small ponytail anywhere. He was walking away, oblivious of her presence. Picking up her heavy dress, Mazeeda quickened her pace to watch up.

“Sinbad!” she yelled out rather aggressively, the tone she would use when either one of her brothers would annoy her.

Unbothered. That’s what he was. He kept on walking as if he heard nothing. His rigid but confident strides never wavering once.

The storyteller raised a brow until it was as sharp as a sword’s edge. She cursed under her breath and threw the bitten apple towards the voyager.

Bullseye. A perfect shot, Sokath would comment.

Sinbad pivoted on his feet, a hand instantly rubbing the spot where it hit his head. His face was furious and utterly shocked, but entirely furious. “Do you realise how long it takes to get me hair done?”

They were only a few feet apart now.

Mazeeda rolled her eyes. “Please,” she exasperated out, “that is the first thing you want to say to me?”

“Well, that is what happens when you throw an apple at someone.” Sinbad cocked his head, as if it was so obvious.

“Then don't you dare ignore me again.”

He pointed a slim, dark finger at the Malika. “Oh, I dare you. I dare you to throw another one at me and see what happens. Lest you forget that I have a king on my side.” He leaned forward, forgetting all that he said to her just days ago.

“Lest you forget that I am your queen and the king is my husband.”

Sinbad clicked his tongue, too prideful to admit that he was trapped. “What do you want from me?”

“I want to talk.”

He sighed, tightening his ponytail before gesturing for them to keep walking. This was exactly what he didn’t want. Sinbad wanted to do it his way, in his accordance. But who was to deny a queen who defied death? “Alright, it’s past due don’t you think?”

The Malika fell into step with the male storyteller. “No breakfast?”

Sinbad shook his head. “No, I’ll be alright.” He jabbed his thumb back. “What a waste of a perfectly good apple though.”

“Where are we going?”

“My ship, of course.”

|AUTHOR'S NOTE|

my oh my...

here is a much needed update. this chapter was very hard to write because i needed it to head a certain direction.