Chapter: The Veil Between
Ferozpur – One week later
Mirza Palace, Pre-Dusk Hours
The sun poured a rich amber over the domes of the Mirza Palace, lighting up its lattice balconies like carved fire. Servants moved silently. Musicians tuned strings for an evening that was to be quiet.
"Her Highness, Ruksana Begum, has reached her paternal home safely," Mir Baksh said, his hands respectfully behind his back, eyes steady.
Sultan Shahbaz Mirza nodded as he stood near the jharokha. "And the girls?"
"Inside the eastern wing, as far as the guards report."
Mirza narrowed his eyes slightly. "Not the zenana?"
Mir Baksh bowed faintly, a flicker of calculated calm in his manner. "They are still within palace bounds."
A silence passed between the two men. One that nodded to the truth, but didn't name it.
---
Somewhere beyond the garden walls...
The cool air kissed Noor Jahan's cheeks as she adjusted the .She wore a soft pistachio-green kurta, the fabric rich with a subtle texture that caught the light with each step she took. The neckline was delicately square, revealing a modest, graceful collarbone, while the sleeveless cut lent her the effortless poise of someone unbothered by unnecessary ornaments. The kurta fell in an even flow, hugging the waist gently before cascading into soft folds near the hem.
Below, her sharara-style trousers bloomed out in elegant volume, stitched to perfection, making each movement fluid — almost rhythmic. Draped carelessly but charmingly over her shoulder was a matching dupatta, simple and soft, more for style than formality.
Her hair was pulled back neatly, accentuating the curve of her jaw and the serenity in her gaze. With the windows behind her laced with warm fairy lights, she stood not just as a girl in green — but as a vision woven from evening glow and quiet grace. She looked exactly like what she wanted to be — invisible.
Beside her, Yaseem Ali tugged her own scarf nervously.
"Is this... completely mad?" she asked. "What if someone from the court sees us?"
Noor smiled. "Let them. No one expects to see the Mirza Princess shopping for guavas."
Yaseem shook her head. "The people, fine. But royals? Ministers?.Have you taken the encounter with General William out of your pretty mind? —"
Noor paused. Her lips curved. Three Months Ago,It had been an evening gathering in the darbar hall if Mirza Palace — soft lighting, quiet music, and British officials flanking the court. Among them stood General William Duncan, a sharp-eyed man with a monocle that he kept polishing more than he used.
He had turned to the Sultan with a mild chuckle, sipping from his crystal glass.
> "Strange thing," he said, almost as an afterthought. "I thought I glimpsed one of Sitapur's famed beauties in the bazaar the other day. Not the sort of place you'd expect a royal, is it?"General frowned,to replay,what he believed to be,for sure,imaginary.
The Sultan raised a brow faintly, but said nothing.
Noor Jahan, standing nearby with her cousin, locked eyes with the General — just briefly.
She tilted her head, her smile light but dangerous.
> "The bazaar's lanterns can be blinding, General. Perhaps your eyesight's slipping with age."
General William gave a soft, self-deprecating chuckle.
> "Perhaps. Or I was simply dreaming of stories too fine to be true."
> "Then better they stay dreams," Noor replied, turning away with a graceful nod.
The topic never surfaced again.
But that night, Mir Baksh had assigned two more guards to the garden walls.
Back to Present – Palace Gardens
Yaseem exhaled, still tense. "But he suspected,didnt he?"
"He did. But he doubted himself faster than I needed to deny it.Besodes,Mir Baksh covered the gap like a chessmaster."
The two cousins approached the servant's corridor. Beyond that, a narrow arch led to a forgotten alley behind the city's spice market.
> "Tonight," Noor whispered, "I want to breathe without stained glass around me."
Yaseem's nerves hadn't entirely settled, but she followed.
> "You always do this… make me feel like it's going to be okay when it absolutely shouldn't be."
Noor grinned.
"That's royalty, dear cousin. The art of walking into storms like they're spring breeze."