One Night

Chapter One

Alara

I wonder what would happen if I got caught. When the plates food stop showing up in the afternoon, my mother might think I've given up and abandoned her.

Brilliant jewels and lanterns shine like an ocean of colour and light. I used to know this life; I used to be a part of it. But that was a long time ago, and there is no time for reminiscing when hunger is eating a hole in my stomach.

Nobody notices me in the bustle of the souk. My rags blend into the stained brown bags of rice and salt. It's easier this way, to not be noticed. Safer.

Soft flute music floats through the air along with the playful laughter of children trying to catch each other, their parents shouting after them to slow down.

Everything is different here in Quadura. The air smells like aromatic spices instead of raw fish. The ground is layered in cobblestone instead of sand. If these people, coated in their luxurious shawls and thobes, were to step foot in Wadi, their clothes would be stolen right off their backs.

The glimmer of light on a ruby-studded bracelet catches my eye. In the sun, the inclusions of the gem make the bracelet chatoyant. It will be enough to feed mama and I for over a month, if any merchant will trade with me tomorrow.

Attached to the bracelet is a woman embellished in jewels of emerald, jade and even pearls. Her skin is fair, from not having to do labour out in the sun. I doubt she'll miss a bracelet that she could most probably replace with the flick of her wrist.

I step up beside her, pretending to admire the most intricate silver lace brocaded slippers displayed in the stall. My feet will never find their way into something so beautiful.

I assess the clasp of the bracelet as she hands a purse heavy with coin to the merchant. His eyes wrinkle with joy at the sight of it. "Shukran," he repeats over-and-over, until she is turning away to find more unnecessary items to buy.

I step forward, ready to brush against her and slip the bracelet off without hesitation.

Before I get the chance, an intimidating figure in a hooded garb, shifts her out the way and grabs my wrist with force. His face is hidden in the shadows of his hood. The attire he wears is maroon and lined with gold, the colours of royalty. If he is part of the royal guard, I am never going to see my mama again. "What are you doing?" His voice is deep and rough, like the low growl of a hungry animal.

My heart lifts up into my throat, making it impossible to speak. His fingers tighten around my wrist, and he drags me into a dark corner. He stands tall, his body towering over me. The hint of a dagger can be seen beneath his clothes.

Nobody can see us here. If he were to shove my limp body into a potato sack, nobody would notice. I wonder if my mom would try to look for me; if she would get off the sofa for her daughter.

"What do you want?" I ask, my voice barely audible. I try to pull out of his forceful grip, but he doesn't release me, knowing I'll run.

"That's a dangerous question." He uses his free hand to tip his hood back. His desert brown eyes trail over me. He won't touch me, not when I'm wearing rags and have soot coated in my skin and hair.

His olive skin is smooth and clean. His beard is groomed closely against his strong jaw. Not the signs of a royal guard, but of a—

His face shifts closer to my ear. The strong, earthy scent of oud hugs me. "If you're going to steal, don't ever get caught." He holds out the ruby-studded bracelet between his index finger and his thumb. It looks tiny in his grip. My stomach does a somersault, making me feel nauseous. "Tell me, what will you do with it?"