The Royal feud✅

[23] A M N A

AMNA

I kept tossing and turning throughout the night. I couldn’t bring myself to sleep. I felt like I was stuck in an enclosure, and Jawad’s presence close to me didn’t help. Learning of all the things written in those letters, somewhat makes me feel guilty.

Did I really intend to kill him?

I thought by morning I’ll feel much better and less guilty, but that was just an untrue speculation. The bright early morning sun rays do nothing to reduce the heavy load on my chest.

After fajr prayers, Jawad returned to freshen up before he left again, saying he had some matters to settle. I did not miss the permanent smile he had on his face. I should be happy that he looks genuinely happy for the first time since the demise of his Father.

But I’m far from happy.

If he finds out who I’m, will that smile still be present? Will he hug me and tell me he knows I’m innocent then forgive me? What about the rule of killing trespassers, will he pardon me from the grievous punishment? From all the letters and Dalia’s confession I am most likely to be from Wahda kingdom only if I’m proved otherwise. And the only person who can shine light in my darkness and tell me the truth about myself is my Jida. Why haven’t I thought of her?

If I’m not from this kingdom, she is the only person who can know why and how. After all, when I opened my eyes that morning after the incident that led to the loss of my memory, she was the first person I saw.

I pull the quilt away from my leg and place my feet on the floor. I’m done being gloomy for the day, I need to solve some mysteries in my life. I find it hard to believe my whole existence is a big mystery. Ambling to my closet, I pick out a cloak and wear it over my dress.

I’m not unrecognizable with the cloak and hood over my head. But it will at least prevent those who don’t know me well from seeing that I’m going out of the palace in less than ten days after the sultan’s death.

All the female royal family members are not expected to go out of the palace after the death of a sultan for 10 days, but I really need to see my Jida. Answers to many of my questions may be known to her.

I drift away from the palace without anyone staring or gazing at me. Maybe I’m not as recognizable as I think I would be. Staring at my feet, I begin walking to my Jida’s house.

I shouldn’t feel this… will I say ‘reluctant’ because I’m going to see my grandmother. The only relative I have or think I have. I’m not even sure if she is really my grandmother… has she been lying to me?

“Calm down Amna you can do this,” I mutter underneath my breath. The house is in sight now, just a few more steps, and I’ll be there. Everything will be okay, and I’ll most probably find answers which will make my life easier.

Each step I take does nothing, but heightens my in built anxiousness. I can feel my heart beat stop when I get in front of my Jida’s house and I see the door wide open. It is normal because sometimes Jida do open the door to enable fresh air to penetrate the room, but this feels wrong.

The door is depressed in the middle like someone punched it with a strong fist, and they are strokes on it which looks like blade of swords slashed on the door.

I look to my right and the window pane is scattered on the floor, camouflaging with the brown sand. If I didn’t look at it closely, I wouldn’t know it’s there. That means it has been on the ground for more than a day or two.

“Salam alaykum,” I say, swiping the curtain to the right with my hand. “Jida…” I stretch my head through the curtains. Spider webs curls around my face as I step into the room. I rub it off with my palms.