Queen of Persia ✔️

chapter seven

part one: dusk

When Parisa woke up that morning, her eyes were immediately drawn to the empty chair beside her bed. He was gone. Of course, he was, Parisa thought. Today was the second day she had survived. The stories seemed to be working, but she was to be no less careful. Waking in a palace was an experience she had wanted to have since she was nothing but a little naïve girl. Standing up to obtain her balance, she walked towards the balcony to push the curtains aside. The sun was out today, just like every normal summer day. But something about today seemed brighter and happier than the gloomy sun from the day before.

The sun was like an illuminating candle on Parisa face. Every bit of her face was glowing, making her chestnut skin the focus of the day. When she looked at the sun, she saw so many pigments of hope. Pigments of light. Pigments of good will, but unlike the moon, the sun held no secrets. The night sky knew every one of Parisa's secrets. The stars kept them silently, and the moon gave her no judgement. Because no matter how bright the sun and the moon are, they are too different to be the same.

Once again, just like the day before, Azin rushed into the room to get Parisa ready. But instead, today was different. She had people to meet and convince. With serious speed, Parisa jumped in the bathtub, feeling every molecule of the hot water washing over her skin. The servants beside her washed her luscious brown hair with a lavender shampoo that filled up the entire atmosphere with its beauty. Luxurious items like these were only ever a dream to Parisa and now that they were true it didn't feel quite as special. And just like that, she was ready dressed in a silk black gown. The arms of the gown were embroidered with golden strings in shapes of flowers. She wrapped her satin shawl around her back onto her arms in form of a cover jacket. And the shoes she wore were flat and extremely big, but she refused to wear anything else. Today, unlike the day before, Azin made Parisa wear a small golden crown on her head to symbolise her power. To symbolise who she really was. The Queen of Persia. The only girl who had survived the dawn, and the only female who was to bring dusk.

"You have to meet a few noble women today, according to that filthy Jalal," Azin said almost gagging at Jalal's name. Parisa turned her head to face Azin, with a shocked expression taking over her face.

"Noble women?" she asked.

"Yes, the annoying, rich and shall I add, snobby, ladies of the court. Their only enjoyment is gossip so you might want to cover your ears cause it's going to be a long day," Azin explained with exhaust. From Azin's expression, Parisa knew just what kind of a day today was going to be. She had met women like them before. Rich and lazy women who only care about men and their wealth. They gave no attention to the people dying for their country and neither did they care.

"I think dying before dawn must've brought me peace faster than meeting these women," Parisa suggested whilst rolling her eyes. Azin beside her, gave a small laughter of approval. They both knew how today was going to end. Awful.

"Well then, we shall get going. Please, put them in their places with that viper tongue of yours," Azin almost pleaded. She was right, Parisa had the tongue of a viper. So poisonous and painful. Almost like an infinite sting. But it only arrived if she was toyed with, and she had a feeling today was going to be that day. Once she walked outside, she saw six women with beautiful gowns sitting around a round table. The women were horrifying beautiful, and Parisa had to admit how intimidated she felt in their presence. Their gazes turned towards Parisa, some looking shocked whilst others looking disgusted. Parisa held her head up with confidence and sat beside a woman wearing a lavender gown. She was the most beautiful of the group.

When Parisa sat down, the women nodded their heads in respect. After all she was the Queen, and they were just the ladies of the high court.

"My lady," the woman in green said. She sat directly in front of Parisa, across the table. The table was filled with treats and sweets. Each lady had a glass of tea in front of them. The tea was brewing and almost dark. The perfect tea. "Welcome, I am Nadia," the same girl spoke. Her voice seemed frightened yet filled with jealousy. These women carried one of the seven sins each. What a day it was going to be dealing with devils. Suddenly, music began to play from somewhere in the room. Parisa turned her head to see the women in the corner playing the harp beautifully. Parisa knew the harp like her heart. It reminded her of her mother's talents. A woman of heart, unlike these women. One by one, the women introduced themselves, until it got to the girl in purple beside her.

"I am Laile, my malake," she introduced herself with the softest voice. Unlike the other ladies, Laile had kindness expression. "I am the high lord's lady," she added.

"You are Vasir Jahandar Mohammadi's lady?" Parisa ask with curiosity. The girl beside her returned a small chuckle.

"Yes, my malake. I take it that you have met him, am I right?" she asks. Parisa only nodded. Her actions and the way she spoke were quite like Jahandar's actions. A couple with the same behaviour. Refreshing, as Jahandar had said. Parisa liked Laile as she seemed real. The only lady she could not stand was Jalaledin's sinful wife, Nadia. She was a woman of lies and deceit. The mother of all snakes. For what seemed like centuries, the ladies continued to gossip. Speaking about every woman and man in the kingdom. A boring hobby, Parisa believed. Leile, who sat beside her, seemed too bored and tired to even try and listen.

And finally, their saviour arrived. The doors opened to reveal the Shah and Jahandar standing right beside each other in a tall manner. The shoulders almost at the same height and their backs straighter than any wall. Within seconds, all the women stood from the table bowing in unison. All beside Parisa who was too stubborn to do so. Instead, she crossed her arms and legs, avoiding the stern look she was receiving from Arman.

"It is tradition to stand. Its respect. Although I doubt a woman from the farms would know respect," the girl beside Nadia insulted. It was clear the insult was directed towards Parisa. No matter the fact that she wasn't real royalty, Parisa always enjoyed being the girl from the farm. Not because it made her unique or the centre of attention, but the fact that she knew many more things about life than them. Zaida, the girl beside Nadia, expected a cry or a sob from Parisa but she gave neither. Instead, she gifted Zaida with an almost triumphant face. Her mouth shaped into a grin, and her eyes slanted amusingly. She turned away from the girl without a sad thought buried in her mind. Instead, she looked at Arman. The man she had called her saviour just a few seconds ago (by accident). She had no intention of seeing the better in him, but her curiosity wasn't working with her.

"I believe the term you meant to say was the girl with no royal blood," Parisa confirmed. Zaida wasn't expecting such answer. She was expecting Parisa to beg. She was expecting Parisa to fall to her knees. But that wasn't how her mother had raised. And that wasn't what her title said about her, nor was it who she was.

"Yes, I believe that is the term. But maybe add poor to it," Zaida said again. This time a chuckle escaped from Nadia's mouth.

"Of course, the next time you become the queen we will do so. But I am afraid that's not the case in this lifetime my dear. Now if you will excuse me, I have places to be, as you queen," Parisa replied sarcastically. Suddenly, Zaida's face turned into a frown as she watched Parisa leave the room. But what surprised her more was that Leile followed right behind her. And right behind them, walked Arman and Jahandar who gave an extremely dangerous glare to Zaida. The waves in Parisa's heart were calm but not in Zaida's. She wasn't going to give up easily.