Where Kings Can't Rule

2. where the widow witnesses a death

He has his eyes on the most favourite woman of late King Junaid, queen consort Juno.

It puzzles me more than anything. He has seen none of us, or so we assume because the first day he set his foot in the palace he demanded we cover our faces. I wonder if he somehow found out Juno was standing just beside concubine Estella.

Either way, his first choice was applauded by the ministers while Juno melted her kohl with tears. After all, he chose the best woman as his first prey.

Poor creature was devoted to King Junaid. Mother always warns us women to not fall for men. Men are short-lived, fickle lives who rise up to glory and then die a gruesome death. The chase for fame dries up their lives.

Juno never listened to her. She fell for that beast, and now she will be taken by another. Her life is all muddled.
She never understood that they see us as nothing more than plush soft toys to feel and grip, to own as their most favourite ones.

Most of them. Pardon me, Chief Puloman. If only there were more like you, women like me would have got a second chance at life. As much as my heart internally scoffs at your patriarchal world and heritage, you had never touched me in sinful passion.

Even my life didn't teach Juno. The accursed womb that I carry and the burnt fate of widowhood isn't enough to make her realise how we are doomed to live this way. A heart must be caged and locked up.

I don't think she has a way out now. She won't learn even if she hits her head on a rocky wall. It's too late. Had she been not the favourite of King Junaid she might have not been thrown in this chasm of lust, I believe. Now she will be clawed and experimented with like a specimen of interest. That too while she is carrying a child thriving inside of her.

We are all praying for her well-being, that she returns alive even if not sane.

The door opens with a creak, and a woman comes in.

"Your son needs to be kept hidden, out of attention." Estella closes the door behind her, lifting up the veil. "It is so suffocating, Sitara. How are we supposed to live like this?"

"Why don't you protest?" I strike back. "I had opened my mouth that day in front of the messenger."

Though to be honest, fear even cripples me to an extent.

"I did not want to die at that instant," Estella moans. "Well, I could have maybe, if everyone jumped in the fire together. Some teamwork."

I chuckle. "I think I am the odd one out."

Estella examines my newly braided hair. I fold my clothes neatly as she plays with my curls. "You should not be the odd one out," Estella murmurs, sniffing the lavender perfume of my locks. "It's women like us who should be. We have no child to care for, no widowhood to make us appear ugly."

I smile as her words simultaneously scathe and soothe my heart. The curse of widowhood indeed seems like a blessing in disguise. "Maybe the fact that I had once brought misfortune to a man will stop more of them from further approaching me."