Leila looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. "Why would you do that for me?" she asked softly, her voice laced with both hesitation and wonder. She had never expected him to make such an offer, not after everything that had happened between them.
Shahryar's gaze softened, and there was a quiet sincerity in his words that caught her off guard. "I told you," he began, his voice steady but unwavering. "Even though the shah is my father, I don't uphold his ideals. And you're my mate. I'm inclined to protect you. This bond is crazy, and I'm willing to stand against my father and tens of thousands of his men for your sake."
Leila felt a flush rise to her cheeks at the intensity of his words. For a moment, she didn't know how to respond. The idea of him standing against everything he knew for her—someone who, just moments ago, seemed like a stranger—was overwhelming.
Maybe this bond wasn't such a curse after all.
She swallowed hard, trying to regain some composure. "You said if you were Shah, and there was no mate bond, you would still protect me and my brother," she reminded him quietly, seeking reassurance.
Shahryar's expression grew serious, his golden eyes locking onto hers with a rare intensity. "I swear on my honor," he vowed. "No harm shall be brought to you or your brother, despite my knowledge of your powers."
The weight of his promise hung in the air, and Leila's heart skipped a beat. His words were simple, but the conviction in his voice made them feel like a binding oath. It was hard for her to fully trust him, yet a part of her couldn't help but believe that he would keep his word.
Still, doubt lingered in her mind. She had no choice but to move forward, but every instinct told her that she should remain cautious, even as a strange sense of safety began to settle over her.
She folded her arms across her chest and looked away, still unsure. She couldn't ignore the fact that despite his arrogance and threats, he had never actually tried to harm her. It was a strange contradiction, and it left her questioning everything she had known about him.
"But first," Shahryar continued, his voice gentler now, "I want you to tell me everything. If it helps you to trust me, I want to hear everything about you."
Leila's heart stuttered at his words. Was he truly offering to listen? To understand her? It was almost too much to believe. She wanted to resist, to hold him at arm's length, but the sincerity in his eyes made it hard to dismiss his offer. He wasn't asking for a story or a confession. He was asking for trust, and that was something she wasn't sure she could give so easily.
"The Norae people…" Leila began, her voice faltering as she looked away, "They are rumored to be the direct descendants of the moon goddess."
Shahryar didn't interrupt, his focus entirely on her. He stepped closer, his presence looming, but somehow comforting.
"They were gifted with intelligence, beauty, and healing prowess," she continued, her voice growing more steady. "But despite all that, they were not immortal." Her words hung in the air, Their gifts were meant to protect, to heal, to guide—but in the end, they were just like everyone else. Vulnerable.
Leila's voice faltered as she continued her story,
"The Norae people," she began again, her tone distant, as though she was reliving the history, "they could die if the injuries were too great, but we were known to live for at least a thousand years, at best. Many humans sought us out for their wisdom, their knowledge, their healing abilities. We offered potions and cures for plagues, sicknesses—anything we could to help. And in return, we helped humanity grow, evolve, and prosper."
She paused, her eyes becoming distant as she thought back to the times her people had been revered, even adored.
"The first king to rule the earth formed an alliance with the Norae people. He sought our wisdom to help him build his empire, and we were glad to offer our assistance. At first, it seemed like the perfect arrangement. He recognized us, treated us as equals, and for a time, we were content."
But as Leila spoke, the bitterness in her voice grew, a hard edge creeping into her words.
"As the king's power grew, so did his greed. The more he had, the more he wanted. And the humans, too, began to covet what they had—their abilities, their magic, their gifts. The alliance they had formed turned into a bondage, a chain that they couldn't escape. The king subjected them to suffering and slavery. He ignored the agreement he had made with us, forcing them to serve him and his people without a second thought."
Leila's hands clenched into fists at her sides, and Shahryar could feel the anger and hurt radiating from her.
"When they protested, when they begged for our rights, they were silenced. And it only made things worse. The more they fought back, the harder the king pressed down on us. He saw them not as equals, but as tools, objects to be used for his own gain."
Leila shook her head, a soft, pained laugh escaping her lips. "The Norae people tried to resist. They started a rebellion, hoping that we could overthrow the king, but they were outmatched. Even though they had our magic, even though they were gifted in so many ways, they lacked strength. Strength in numbers, strength in physical power. The humans had that advantage, and they suppressed them."
She paused again, taking a deep breath, her face hardening with the resolve of someone who had lived with this history for far too long.
"But they didn't give up. They knew that if they stayed, they would perish. So, they concocted powerful magic—magic strong enough to protect us, to keep us hidden. They used that magic to vanish from the world, to hide ourselves away from the humans who had once adored them but had now sought to destroy them."
Shahryar could hear the ache in her voice, and he could see it in her eyes—The Norae people had been erased from history, their existence relegated to myth and legend.
The Norae chief had established a strict rule: no one was allowed to enter the human realm. It was a decree meant to protect them, to ensure that the curse of their past—the betrayal, the suffering at the hands of humans—would never repeat itself. The punishment for disobedience was death. The chief, in his wisdom, believed that isolation was the only way to keep their people safe, and he was merciless in enforcing this law. No one could defy it..
Yet, Roshanak—Leila's mother—had broken that very rule. She had crossed into the human world, and worse still, she had fallen in love with a human. A love so forbidden that it would haunt the family for generations.
In the compound, life carried on with its own rhythm, the quiet days filled with the scent of flowers and the sounds of the earth being tended to. The courtyard was a peaceful sanctuary, a place where Dana found solace in her work with the flowers. Unlike her younger sister, Roshanak, Dana was quiet and reserved, preferring the stillness of the garden to the chaos of the world beyond it.
"Dana!" a high-pitched voice called from the entrance of the courtyard, snapping Dana out of her reverie. It was her mother, Soraya, standing at the edge of the garden. Her commanding tone held a sense of urgency. "Leave the flowers for the gardener. You and your sister need to prepare yourselves. Your father's cousins are coming. There's a wedding procession."
Dana's brow furrowed in confusion. A wedding? She hadn't been informed, and the news felt sudden, almost out of place. Who was getting married? Why was it happening so suddenly? She glanced around, wondering where her sister was.
"Where is Roshanak?" Soraya asked, her green eyes scanning the courtyard as if her younger daughter might be hiding amongst the flowerbeds, her delicate frame barely visible behind the plants.
"She went with Ava and Ziba to the stream," Soraya replied, wiping her hands on her dress. "She'll be late, as usual."
Unlike Roshanak, who had lived for excitement and defiance, Dana found comfort in the flowers, each petal and leaf a reminder of order and peace. Last week, she had planted lilies, their soft fragrance now filling the air, and this week she had created a vibrant bed of marigolds. The courtyard, because of her, was the only place in her father's compound that had a cherry blossom tree, a symbol of beauty.
The courtyard was always a place of peace, a sanctuary where Dana could tend to her flowers, yet today it felt like something was about to shift. Her mother's voice echoed in her mind as she hurriedly left her task to search for Roshanak.
Dana moved swiftly through the compound, her feet carrying her toward the stream where she knew her younger sister would be with her friends. Her heart raced, though, not from the effort of running, but from the nagging feeling that something significant was unfolding—a wedding, an unexpected event.
Meanwhile, Roshanak, ever the curious and daring one, had gathered with her two closest friends by the stream, their laughter and splashes ringing through the air. The water shimmered in the sunlight, the perfect setting for their idle chatter, yet Roshanak couldn't help but wonder about the world beyond their secluded existence.
"Do you know that there's an outside world apart from this one?" she asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she glanced at her friends, who were splashing around in the cool water.
Ziba, who was trying to splash Roshanak with water, paused and raised an eyebrow. "Have you been reading books again?" she asked, clearly amused.
"Books are supposed to give us knowledge," Roshanak shot back sharply, ignoring the teasing tone of her friends. She was always the one to stand up for her beliefs, even if it meant being the odd one out.
Ava, who had been quiet until now, joined in, smirking at Roshanak. "You know it's forbidden for us to read," she reminded her. "Only the nobles get that privilege."
Roshanak, not one to shy away from challenging authority, crossed her arms and smirked back. "Seems you guys are forgetting something," she said, her tone teasing but filled with certainty. "I am a princess. Which means I can read, even if my father doesn't allow it."
Her friends stared at her in disbelief, their eyes wide with surprise. It was true that only a select few were granted access to the sacred knowledge contained in the old books—historical facts, accounts of the human realm, and the forbidden knowledge that had been erased from the tribe's collective memory. The chief had ordered that the knowledge of humans be hidden, and erased to prevent any temptation to return to the past.
Roshanak's voice softened slightly as she recalled what she had read. "According to the books, humans are strong, witty, and dangerous. But they also lack what we have—our healing abilities, our intelligence. They're not immortal like us, but they have their own power. I want to meet one."
Her words hung in the air, and Ava's curiosity mirrored her own. "I've heard my grandfather talk about humans," Ava said quietly. "He said they looked almost like us, but with strange differences."
Ziba, who had been listening intently, shrugged with a smirk. "Well, I wouldn't mind meeting one. Who knows? Maybe we could learn a thing or two from them."
Roshanak smiled, the thrill of rebellion coursing through her veins. "I think we should."
Just as the conversation grew more intense, the sound of footsteps interrupted them. The trio turned, their eyes widening when they saw Dana standing at the edge of the stream, arms crossed, watching them with a mixture of concern and authority.
"No, you can't," Dana said firmly, her voice carrying the weight of their mother's warnings. "You cannot meet humans." Her expression was serious, and her tone left no room for argument.