Alara

Nawaz.

He looks like he is possessed. His head is tilted up. Sweat beads his brows and his eyes are nearly rolling into the back of his head. Short, pained gasps come from him.

Zayen instinctively steps forward but the two guards behind him keep him in place. He is bigger than both of them.

"Lovely for you to finally join us," says a deep, kind voice. He's got light, sagging skin and a stark white beard that matches his hair. It contrasts the dark brown of his eyes.

The kindness in his voice immediately puts me on edge, reminding me of how the Hakeem smiled and acted kind as long as it was for his gain.

Until he trapped my mother and sent me on a death mission.

"Let him go. You're making a mistake. If you harm him, there's going to be a war!"

"Harm him?" The man chuckles. His laugh is hoarse. "I won't harm him. I am simply asking him a few questions."

"Making him unconscious." Zayn gestures with his hand to Nawaz's dazed look. "Is harm."

"And you're suddenly the caring older brother, I see."

His statement leaves a deafening silence in the room. Zayen stills, like a cat that turned a corner and found the most vicious looking dog.

Older brother? The way Zayen is acting . . .

But that would mean that Zayen is royalty, so why would be be working as a guard? I know the Hakeem isn't very nice, but to treat his own sun that badly doesn't seem likely. Surely.

If he has a strong, capable son, why would the Hakeem hide that? And there is no way that nobody knows that he exists. This land of Ahlam watches their ruler, and would know if there was more than one prince. We would have seen it posted on the news boards.

Zayen.

A prince.

No, it's not possible. My mind spins and it makes me nauseous. "Zayen?" I ask. I need to know if it is true, to stop the mess that is being built in my mind.

His head turns to me slowly, as if he momentarily forgot that I existed. He's eyes are pained. There's something dark and unknown swirling in them. It creases the sides of his eyes with pain and disappointment.

The look alone tells me that what is being claimed is true.

Oh. My heart jumps into my throat.

Slowly, his eyes turn back to the man. "You're lying."

He sighs, as if he had expected this reaction from Zayen. His expression looks like he is not enjoying the pain on Zayen's face. Usually evil people enjoying seeing pain, don't they?

"It is a grave sin to lie. You and I both know what comes out of my mouth is not a lie."

Zayen tries again to jerk forward, out of the grasp of the guard. A low groan leaves his lips. It reminds me of a beast trying to escape its shackles.

It's as if Zayen knows this information but does not want to hear it out loud—as if in silence the truth is not real.

"Your brother knows," the man says. "He confirmed it." The man turns his head to Nawaz, who stares blindly at the ceiling. "Tell them what you know, prince."

Nawaz's eyes suddenly shift to us. His voice is monotonous when he says, "I found a letter that our father wrote. He wrote it to your mother, explaining that he agreed not to kill you but that you will never be royalty. It said that you knew about who you are. That made me angry because we always used to play together. I thought we were friends." His voice lowers, emotion filling his voice. "But you're a liar. You knew and you never told me. If you don't want to be my brother then I'll never treat you like one."

Has Nawaz treated Zayen badly? What did he do?

I turn to Zayen and he seems to be breaking from the inside out. His breathe shakes and he lowers his gaze to the floor, almost ashamed to hear his brother's admission.

Zayen's voice is strained when he says, "I wanted to tell you. I just didn't know how. I always said 'one day', but it never came. We never get back our yesterdays and our tomorrows never come. I'm sorry that I never gave you the truth."

"You're not forgiven."

"Enough," the man says and Nawaz's gaze seems to lazily drift back up to the ceiling. What has he done to Nawaz? "Do you still claim that I am lying?"

Zayen's body relaxes, and he stops trying to fight out of the grip of the guards. Then, like lightening that comes during a sunny day, he shifts his body and elbows one guard. They jerk back and the other comes for him, but he is too quick and has the guard on the floor before I can blink.

He gets away from the guards and reaches the man on the throne. "Tell me what you want."

"Or what?" The man does not seem bothered in the slightest at Zayen's fighting skills. "Will you try to knock me onto the ground, too? Then what? You'll take an unconscious prince through a building full of guards ready to arrest you. Either go stand back in your place, or I can have you placed back in your cages until you're ready to play nice."

I don't want to go back in there.

I can't see Zayen's face. I'm sure he is thinking of all the ways he can decapitate this man. He finally swivels on his feet and comes to stand back at my side.

Two guards step up to get ahold of him again, but he puts his hand up. "I am not going to run, but if you touch me I will hurt you."

I shift to turn back and look at the one guard holding me, and he smiles at me. This is so weird. I don't think I've seen any of the guards at the royal palace smile at me—even when they thought I was royalty. Not even Zayen smiled.

"Who are you?" I ask.

His eyes find mine and watch me for a long time, like he is taking in and memorising every feature. "Who are you? Why are you traveling with royalty?"

"It's a long story."

"It always is." He turns his head and gestures with a single finger to someone behind us. "And you will have all of your questions answered, and doubts resolved. But for now I want you to go and get cleaned up. I will have my guards show you to your quarters. Don't do anything stupid and your safety will remain intact."

The guards holding us lead us out of the large ballroom-sized room. My heart seems to find it's way into my throat and I turn to look at Zayen. He is staring straight ahead, his expression hard and cold.

I want him to look at me, to tell me it'll be okay. I want him to hold my hand or wrap his arms around me again. But he's a thousand miles away, lost in his own mind.

They lead us across the passageway and across, to a plain white while that rises up tall. One guard pushes against the hard white surface and it budges open.

I should have known! Stupid giant buildings and their stupid secret doors.

The guard still holding onto my wrist leads me forward, into an oval-shaped atrium. It's brightly lit, with the entire ceiling made of glass, allowing for the clear blue skies to peak in on us.

I stare up at the clouds that dance above us. The last time I'd seen the sky was when Zayen was carrying me out of that cave that I had been chained in.

The memory is so strange and surreal. Every moment since I went to that harbour market in my home town of Wadi feels like it has been a strange fever dream.

I keep placing one foot in front of the other, telling myself that it'll turn out okay, but what if it doesn't?

The guards lead us further down one of the passages that branch out from the atrium. I look over at Zayen again, wishing he'd look at me. They're probably going to lock us in those cages again, and I won't get to see those soft brown eyes again.

They remind me of what it feels like to step onto soil without shoes and smell the fresh earth around me.

I want him to look at me. Just once. Just for a second.

The passageway is white—it seems like there is a consistent theme of marine life and strange creatures that inspired this building. Paintings of waves and strange writings lines the walls.

We pass wooden doors that repeat themselves every few feet. On the other side of the walls are windows that are blocked by sheer white curtains. The guard leading me suddenly comes to a halt, jerking me back. For a moment, I think the worst—that there is some trap waiting for me. That I am alone with a bunch of men I know nothing about and I have no skills in fighting.

The feeling of vulnerability makes me want to cave into myself. I glance over at Zayen again, and he is looking at me.

I feel caught, as if he can sense the emotions I am feeling. He finally looked, and suddenly I wish he didn't.

He tilts his head in a slight nod. "You okay, dude?"

A short laugh leaves my lips. I had expected him to use 'sariq'. "All good, dude."

The corners of his mouth lifts. My gaze shifts to the floor out of fear of my thoughts. That maybe, with the perfect lighting in these hallways, he looks . . .  breathtakingly handsome.

It was a lot easier to almost kiss him, when we were in a dark stairway. Now I have to remember that he is, in fact, a prince.

That thought alone brings the unease back tenfold. I have so many questions, and I doubt I will get the answer to any of them.

Is he older than Nawaz? Is he the true heir? Why would his father do that? My mind spins as I am lead into a oval-shaped room.

The walls are made of a smooth white paint. On the walls hang gold-framed images of nature. The floor is made of a dark brown wood. A pristine white bed sits against an engraved alcove. If I thought that the room I was given in the royal palace in Quadura was fancy, I clearly had no idea.

Not that I had a chance to sleep in that bed.

I turn to the guards. "I sleep here?" The guard who had been leading me nods. "Alone?" My gaze goes to Zayen.

He steps toward me, almost protectively. "No. You're not going to be alone in here. The last time I left you alone in a bedroom you ended up taking a solo tour and getting thrown in prison."

"Rules do not permit men to sleep alone with an unwed woman. You will have your own private bedroom next door."

His gaze is fierce. "No, I am not leaving her. We don't have to be alone. There can be another guard. But I am staying here." He points to the light brown couch in the corner. "I'll sleep there."

Zayen wants to stay with me.

That brings me relief. With the strange power that this unknown man has over Nawaz, I do not want to find myself being taken in my sleep and put into the same trance.

The guards all look at each other, unsure on whether they should push the issue. Eventually, one tall, lanky guard nods. "I will remain outside. The door will stay open."

"Shukran." شكرًا. Thank you.

~~*~~

I love writing when it's rainy outside.

T w i t t e r : xPineappleGirlx
I n s t a g r a m : laylaawrites
Y o u t u b e : xThePineappleGirlx

Lots of love and jelly tots - xThePineappleGirlx