Two days later. The air in Arshi's new royal apartments was stifling, not from the heat, but from the immense gravity of her new life.
"You seem to be in quite a pleasant mood, My Sultana," Rumana, her devoted chambermaid, commented, as she gently braided Arshi's hair.
Arshi did not respond. Her mind was a million miles away, replaying the profound, terrifying, and ultimately shattering encounter of two nights prior.
"My Sultana?" Rumana asked gently, leaning down, sensing the silence was not peace, but distraction. "Are you all right? Is anything bothering you?"
"Hm?" Arshi turned, startled. She stood up abruptly, her mind finally formulating the terrifying question. "Do you think, Rumana, that His Majesty will notice any... change in me?"
"Change?" Rumana asked, tilting her head.
Arshi stood there, fidgeting with the silk of her dress, her nervousness palpable. The change was physical, yes, but it was also a change in status—from maiden to woman, from concubine to Queen. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and deeply embarrassed by the sheer intensity of the experience.
Rumana's gaze softened. Her silence was louder than any reply.
"Is this about what happened two nights ago between you and His Majesty the Sultan?" Rumana asked, her voice hushed with respect.
"It may be so," Arshi admitted with a deep sigh. "I simply cannot see him today, Rumana. Please, I beg you, simply inform him that I will be unavailable to receive him."
"I apologize, but I cannot do that, My Sultana."
Arshi glared at her maid. "Why can you not? Am I not the Queen?"
Rumana offered a gentle, unwavering smile. Arshi was kind, perhaps too kind and naive for this court, but Rumana respected her deeply despite being five years her senior.
"There are some things in life, My Sultana, that we must face directly," Rumana said, her voice firm. "Being cowards will do us no good here. He is now a part of your life in a way that touches your soul, and it appears to me that His Majesty genuinely loves you. How long will you continue to avoid the man who made you Queen?"
Arshi sank back onto her chair, suppressing a long, weary sigh as she listened to the truth in her maid's words. "I..."
A sharp, authoritative knock at the chamber doors interrupted her thought. The guards opened the door, and Grand Vizier Mohammed strode into the room, his movements fluid and respectful. He smiled graciously and bowed low to Arshi. Rumana bowed quickly and exited the room, leaving the two powerful figures alone.
"Salaam, My Sultana."
"Salaam, Mohammed."
His unexpected visit caught Arshi completely off guard. She immediately thought of the one man who mattered. "What brings you here, Gentleman Mohammed? Is everything alright with His Majesty?"
Mohammed maintained his friendly smile, a calculated mask of warmth. "My Sultana, my Sultan is as healthy as a horse. Something else has brought me here, a matter of duty... Could you please allow me to sit?"
"Yes, please. Please excuse my lack of etiquette." She watched him incredulously as she sat down across from him.
Mohammed extended his hand. Resting in his palm was a small, ornate red box. "I believe this is yours, my Sultana."
Arshi took it, the cool metal heavy in her hand, still staring at the Grand Vizier. "What is this?" she asked, curiosity burning away her nervousness.
Mohammed's charming grin never faltered, yet his eyes held a subtle, calculating distance. "My Sultana, your mother, Lady Qanniyah, gave it to me the day you left Abdulkareem's house. Please accept my apologies for the delayed delivery. She was adamant that you should have it, no matter what."
"What is inside this?" Arshi inquired, focusing on the dark, polished wood of the box.
"My Sultana, I did not dare to inquire. Even if I could, I would not, because the box appears to have a lock that requires a special key to open. Lady Qanniyah, I believe, thought you might be the only one able to open it, which is why she entrusted me with this sensitive task."
"I see."
Arshi studied the box's strange lock for a few moments, the gift a bizarre echo of her forgotten life. She shifted her gaze back to Mohammed. "I appreciate your service, Grand Vizier, Mohammed. Thank you."
Mohammed smiled again, pushed back his chair, stood up, and bowed briefly. "My Sultana, I must depart. I am profoundly glad I was able to deliver this package. Now that I have completed the sacred promise I made to Lady Qanniyah, my heart is at ease."
"Thank you once more, and may Allah's blessings be with you always." Arshi rose from her seat and walked him toward the door.
At that exact moment, Hatim walked into the room. He stopped dead in the doorway, his eyes narrowing instantly as he saw Mohammed and Arshi standing close together, the Grand Vizier making his formal exit. The Sultan's face darkened with a mixture of suspicion and raw, possessive fury.
Mohammed bowed his head quickly, greeted the Sultan, and exited the room with a practiced, seamless grace, leaving the newlyweds alone. After the door shut with a heavy thud, Hatim turned his cold, angry gaze entirely on Arshi.
"Why were you with Mohammed?"
Arshi blinked, confused by the sudden, intense shift in his demeanor. "Pardon? Why was I with him?"
"That is exactly what I asked, Arshi. Do not play the fool with me right now." Hatim's voice was a low snarl.
Arshi almost laughed aloud, despite the terrifying edge in his voice. She was astonished by Hatim's blatant annoyance toward his own Grand Vizier and childhood friend. Was he truly jealous of Mohammed?
"He came here to bring me something," she sighed, holding up the red box. "Please accept my apologies for allowing my chambermaids to leave the two of us alone in the room. It was an oversight on my part, and he only stayed moments."
"Do not ever try that again, Arshi," he snarled, taking a challenging step toward her.
"What?"
"Never let a man into your private quarters. Except for me, no one is permitted to remain in your private room." He stalked closer, his jealousy a palpable force in the air. "I am the only man who should be looked at with those eyes. I am the only man whose voice should reach your lovely ears. I am..."
Arshi's smile finally broke free, her cheeks dimpling with affection and a sudden, irresistible confidence—a power she hadn't known she possessed until two nights ago. She approached him, stood on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, and drew him down toward her trembling lips.
"Would you like to kiss me, Hathi?"
***************
Hatim wasted no time. As the heavy mahogany door swung shut on the last whispers of palace gossip, he clamped his arms around Arshi's waist, spinning her close, and pressed their lips together with a hungry, desperate urgency. The kiss was meant to obliterate the long journey and the anxiety of their arrival, a claim of possession and love before the chaos of court swallowed them whole.
After a moment that stretched taut with unspoken emotions, Hatim started to pull away, separating himself slightly. He held her at arm's length, his handsome face—slightly weathered from their journey, yet alight with affection—etched with concern.
"Is your body okay, Arshi?" he asked, his voice low and searching.
Arshi immediately shifted her gaze away, her eyes dropping to the floor tiles. A deep, unbecoming flush crept up her neck and across her cheeks, a startled reflex to his sudden inquiry. "My body is fine," she murmured, the denial too quick and too flat.
"Then why have you avoided my touch and my gaze since yesterday's events?" he asked softly, taking her chin and gently lifting her face until she had no choice but to meet his concerned gaze.
Arshi turned fully to face him. His eyes held genuine worry, a reflection of the deep affection he felt for her, and she realized the magnitude of the dilemma. She had avoided him out of shame—shame over her past, shame that he had been forced to witness her vulnerability, and a deep-seated fear that the high walls of the palace would finally change his perception of her. His kindness felt like a pressure she couldn't yet handle. She needed to craft a response that acknowledged the tension without revealing the scars she still carried.
"Arshi, did I perhaps make any mistake? Is there something I said or did of which I am unaware?"
"No, Hathi," she said, finally managing a weak, genuine smile. "You are perfect. I'm just… a bit nervous about arriving. About the palace."
"You? Nervous?" Hatim chuckled, a rich, warm sound that did little to ease the tension in her shoulders. He bent down and kissed the back of her hand, his lips lingering. "That is a new development, my beloved. You have always been the steel hidden in silk. You make my day, indeed."
He paused, his smile fading into a solemn promise. "My dearest, we are about to leave the sheltered walls of my hunting lodge for the Imperial city. Remember my promise: you are my free flower. You do not have to concern yourself about being restricted or caged. You are neither a servant nor a slave. You are my Queen, Arshi. My sole Queen."
She hadn't anticipated him publicly bestowing that title—Queen—so soon, perhaps not until they were safely within the palace walls. The word resonated in her chest, a heavy, gilded crown. After the series of terrifying, arbitrary events that had propelled her from a free woman, to a nobleman's slave, to the Sultan's beloved, the speed of her elevation was breathtaking. She was adjusting to this dizzying new life, but contentment was still a distant horizon.