"You witch!" Arash roared, his voice thick with fury as he struck Leila across the face.
The force of the blow sent Leila stumbling backward, and she crashed to the ground, her body hitting the earth with a sickening thud. Arman's heart clenched in agony as he watched, his body wracked with desperation. The guards had him pinned, their hold unyielding as he struggled against them, his voice rising in panic.
"Leila!" Arman cried, his breath ragged as he fought against the guards' iron grip. "Are you okay?"
For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the tense gasps of the onlookers. And then, to their shock, a laugh rang out.
Leila's laugh.
It was bitter, mocking—a sound that only grew louder as she pushed herself up, wiping the edge of her lips with the sleeve of her garment. The laughter seemed to hang in the air, a sharp contrast to the chaos unfolding around her.
Arash's expression flickered for a moment, a change in the air as he watched her. The smirk that had once been plastered on his face had vanished, replaced by a scowl that deepened with every passing second. His eyes narrowed, his fury growing, but there was something else there now—uncertainty.
"What is it, Mr. Governor?" Leila taunted, her voice cold and steady as she stumbled back to her feet. She didn't seem fazed by the slap, and the sight of her getting back up with such defiance only served to enrage Arash further.
She walked back to her original position, her posture firm, her gaze unwavering as she locked eyes with him. She wasn't afraid anymore.
"I won't beg you for mercy, Governor," Leila continued, her voice calm, yet dangerous. "If you're embarrassed by your son's actions, you shouldn't take it out on me." Her words were deliberate, each one cutting through the tension like a blade.
"And touching me like that," she added with a chilling smile, "is unlawful according to the customs of the land." She straightened up, her confidence radiating from her as she met his hateful gaze head-on. "I have the Crown Prince's protection, and not only is he a witness to this matter, but I am also a member of his harem."
The words hung in the air, a declaration that carried weight.
She tilted her chin slightly, a challenge in her eyes. "I should tell him you hit me and touched a woman who belongs to the future Shah of the empire."
Leila's bold response seemed to momentarily shake the governor, but then, to her surprise, he chuckled—low and chilling. His smirk returned, but it wasn't one of amusement. It was the kind of smile that came from being one step ahead, knowing something she didn't.
He had expected this.
It would've been a blow to his ego if he hadn't done his research properly. Leila wasn't the first peasant to make a stand, but she was different. He knew that now, and he didn't appreciate being toyed with.
"An apology, is it?" Leila's demand hung in the air like an insult, and Arash's lips curled into a contemptuous sneer. The very idea of a peasant—no, a woman—daring to make such a demand was laughable.
"You want an apology from me, on my honor?" she pressed, her eyes unwavering.
Arash scoffed, the audacity of it infuriating him. He leaned in slightly, his gaze hardening. "Don't be mistaken, little girl," he said with a sharp sigh, his patience running thin. "While you have the protection of the Crown Prince, I have orders directly from the Shah." His voice was colder now, as he finally regained control over his emotions. He was done playing her game.
He took a step back, his stance now rigid, no longer toying with her. He knew exactly how to deal with women like her—the ones who thought they could stand tall, unbroken. Unlike the weak women who allowed their emotions to rule them, this one was different. She was a viper, cold and calculating, and it made him wary. The venom that simmered beneath her calm exterior could be deadly, and he had no intention of being bitten by it.
"Let's see how long that tough front will last," Arash muttered to himself, his eyes gleaming with the kind of cruelty that only a man like him could possess.
As he gave the signal, some of the guards stepped forward, their hands grabbing at Leila, pulling her with unrelenting force. Despite the harsh grip of the soldiers, Leila refused to panic. Her body remained rigid, her face impassive as she was dragged. She didn't beg. She didn't flinch. She would not give him that satisfaction.
Arman struggled against the guards holding him, his breath ragged as he called out her name, but his words were swallowed by the chaos. He could do nothing but watch as they dragged her inside, his heart breaking at the thought of her being taken away.
"What do you think you're doing?" Leila's voice rang out, clear and firm despite the situation. She refused to be cowed, even as they marched her toward her mother's room. "My mother is sick, and she gets uncomfortable when strangers—especially armed people—come in."
"Don't worry, I used to be a very close acquaintance of your mother," Arash muttered with a sneer, his grip tightening on Leila as she stubbornly tried to free herself from the guards. She growled, struggling against their hold, her eyes flashing with a mixture of fury and defiance.
Roshanak stirred slightly on the bed, the sounds of movement reaching her weakened ears. Though her vision was blurry and her body trembled with exhaustion, she sensed that the people approaching weren't the familiar, comforting faces of her children. No, these were strangers—and worse, they carried the air of danger.
With the last ounce of strength she could summon, she tried to sit up, but it was futile. Her body was too frail. Her chest tightened, and she felt a sinking sensation in her stomach as the group drew closer. Her eyes darted between the shadows, and then—when the figure stepped into the dim light—her heart stopped.
Arash.
The governor.
She recognized him immediately, and the memories came crashing back. The cruel man who had tortured her, the one her husband had warned her to be wary of, the one who had been in charge of her suffering during those long, hellish days in the palace. His presence now felt like a cold hand closing around her throat.
Fear gripped her as her mind raced back to those days. She remembered her husband's whispered warnings, the helplessness she had felt as Arash carried out his brutal orders, the pain of her broken body, the loss of dignity. The very thought of him being near her now, after all this time, made her tremble violently.
Arash, sensing her shock, smiled brightly. It was a cruel, taunting smile, one that made her blood run cold. He took in her frail form, noting how her once-glorious white hair had dulled into a lifeless grey. The loss of her healing powers was plain to see—there was no longer any use for her.
He turned his eyes back to Leila, still struggling against the guards, her face flushed with anger. Arash's expression darkened as he caught the defiance in her gaze. She wouldn't bend, wouldn't break under his pressure. But then, with a twisted sneer, he moved closer to her, his hand reaching out to grab her by the hair.
Leila gasped, the sharp pain of his grip yanking her toward him. Her body went rigid, her breathing quickening as she fought to free herself.
"Do you really think you can hide from me, little mouse?" Arash snarled, his voice laced with venom. Without warning, he threw her toward her mother, and Leila's body collided painfully with the frail form of Roshanak.
Roshanak's heart lurched at the sight of her daughter, but before she could even speak, Arash's voice echoed coldly.
"You did a good job hiding her, hiding your precious little daughter. But you thought I wouldn't find out?" His gaze swept over the room with a sinister glint in his eye, his smile widening. "You really think you can escape us?"
"No…" Roshanak's voice faltered, a weak, incoherent whisper as her teary eyes locked with Leila's confused, wide gaze.
She could barely comprehend what was happening—what Arash, the man she had once feared, was about to do.
"What did you do?" she croaked, her voice weak, filled with desperation. "Leila, what did you do?"
Leila's heart ached as she met her mother's gaze, a mixture of confusion and regret in her eyes. She didn't have the answers, not for Roshanak. Not for anyone. Her mouth opened, but the words failed her.
"Take her." Arash's voice cut through the room like a whip, sharp and commanding. The guards surged forward, hands grabbing roughly at Leila and her mother, dragging them toward the center of the room, a place far too small and oppressive for what was about to unfold.
Arman stood helplessly, tears streaming down his face as he watched his family being torn apart. His body shook with rage and fear, his hands straining against the guards' iron grip.
"No!" he screamed, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Mother!"
Leila's heart broke as she watched her brother's agony, but she couldn't help him—not like this.
Her gaze flicked to her mother, but something cold caught her eye—a guard holding a sharp blade, its silver surface glinting ominously in the dim light of the room. A knot of dread twisted in Leila's stomach.
"I came here to judge your family," Arash's voice was almost conversational as he paced around the room, his eyes scanning every corner with disdain. He made sure to look down at the worn, dilapidated furniture, his sneer growing as he took in the poverty that surrounded them. "Poor. Very poor." He scoffed to himself. "Even coal sellers have better homes than this."
He paused, eyes settling on Roshanak, who was too weak to even stand. "Roshanak, you were useful to the empire," he continued, his voice chillingly calm. "It was thanks to you that we built everything we have now. You should be grateful. You shouldn't hoard information, especially after the shah was kind enough to spare the lives of your children and grant you freedom."
Leila's heart twisted as she looked at her mother, and her temper flared at his words.
"Is this what you call kindness?" Leila yelled, her voice cracking with fury as she glared at the governor, defiance burning in her eyes.
Arash barely glanced at her, his eyes cold and unfeeling as he issued the next order. "Don't beg for mercy. You don't get to request favors, especially after you dared to hide Leila's powers from the empire."
His words cut through the room like a blade, and everyone froze.
Leila and Arman exchanged a look—one of shock, one of fear—but it was quickly replaced with confusion. Neither of them knew what he was talking about.
Roshanak's eyes widened in denial. "What are you talking about?" she gasped, her voice desperate, as if trying to reach her daughter, trying to protect her one last time. "Both of my children didn't inherit my power."
Arash let out a mocking chuckle. "Don't play dumb with me, Roshanak," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "I know the truth."
He raised his hand, and the guard holding the blade stepped forward, a wicked smile playing on his lips. With no hesitation, the guard drove the blade deep into Leila's shoulder.
Leila's scream echoed in the room, the sharp pain crashing through her like a wave. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed, the world spinning around her as the blood flowed from the wound.
"No!" Arman cried, his voice raw with terror. "Leila!"
Leila's vision blurred, her body burning with pain as the cold steel tore through her flesh. The world seemed to slow, everything fading into a distant hum. Her eyes rolled back, her breath shallow. The agony was unbearable, but she refused to scream again.
Then, something incredible happened.
Her eyes flashed bright green, and as quickly as the pain had come, it began to recede. The wound in her shoulder started to heal, the torn flesh pulling itself together as if by some invisible force. The blood stopped flowing, and the skin began to knit itself back together.
Arash's eyes widened in disbelief, and he took a step forward, his curiosity piqued. He leaned over her, his gaze fixed on her healing shoulder, watching in awe.
"It's real," he whispered, his voice barely audible, but filled with a strange satisfaction. "It's even faster than her mother's own healing."