SAMRA SANYA AKBAR- A dark skinned princess.
Born to the King's brother and an Egyptian slave girl brought as a gift to the King.
FADAHUNSI ZAEEM SHAH - The King's most able son and warrior. General of the supreme army.
All it takes is a naive mista...
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"هزار سجده برم خاك آن زمين تورا هزار بوسه دهم بر سخای نامۀ تو"
Fadahunsi uttered the famous words of the tenth century poet, Rudaki.
[If only you'd place one foot upon this ground, I'd make a thousand prostrations to its dust.]
Samra gaped at him with wide eyes and an open mouth, the inside dry just like when her mother would force a medicinal alcohol down her throat. The crackling heat in the ends of her oesophagus threatened to spread around the branched alveolar air sacs. She rolled on the balls of her feet, observing him with a keen eye as he kissed the back of her hand.
"What did you just say?" She questioned.
Her head titled to the side, the inner corner of her sharp eyes pulled into a wide distance. Confusion dripped from the edge of her rosy lips that were now in the tight grasp of her sharp teeth. Picking at the skin their — a habit she had developed over the years.
"One day you'll understand. One day humdum," he grinned.
Samra watched him with great displeasure. Perched on the soft cushion, hands picking at a ripe banana, she ignored his remark. Her eyes focused now solely on the fruit in hand, it's curve fit the pocket of her palms perfectly, the dark spotting matching the deep stain on her palms. She bit into the soft flesh, eyes on the ground in front of her. A few of the words she had caught on to, most though still remained a mystery to her.
"Don't do this," he spoke.
The gentle breeze that carried the heavy scent of Summer rain toyed with his loose hair. Brushing the ends to his lips, set into a frown. He walked forward looking particularly dapper in the Indian attire that had been gifted to him for the wedding ceremony. The long ankle length tailcoat with large brass buttons and a falcon for the brooch, with green emerald eyes and a gold beak. His heavy muslin dress was covered in rows upon rows of neatly stitched in sequins. The pants fitted, formed ringlets at his ankle and emphasized the thickness of his toned legs. Yellow marigold like sunlight set his olive toned skin on fire, his hazel eyes with specs of blue flickered with deep rooted pleasure.
"Samra". He whispered softly.
He sunk to the ground, the weight of his muscular body on his toes. He brushed away the curled ends of her dark hair. Watching the amber in the pointed eyes camouflage the natural fire that dwelled within. His fingers fixed the displaced ends of her headpiece, setting a jasmine flower into the loose bun at the nape of her neck. The flowers pluck freshly out of the wide vase on their vanity. He brushed her plump cheeks, rounded like that of a bear's as she swallowed the banana. Resisting the urge to kiss her like a brute, he placed his lips against the corners of her mouth.
