One Night

Chapter Thirteen

Alara

My heart is filled with an ache that feels like it is slowly draining me.

I should have never gotten myself involved with royalty. Even if the situation hadn't ended up as insane as it is, lying to the most powerful man in power could have endangered my mother.

My fist tightens around the small bag hanging from strings at my back. I should have known.

If the Hakeem is honest, then my mother will be safer here for the time being. As long as we get back in time. But I don't like her life being based on a conditional.

Life doesn't work on wishes or hopes, so I will do exactly what the Hakeem wants and make sure we are back in time.

I know it is easier said than done when I do not know what I am walking into.

"Yalla!" Akilah calls out to me from the entrance to the palace.

I walk around the indoor garden that I had previously gawked over, feeling a lack of admiration. Nothing so beautiful should exist in a place like this.

Each step feels filled with lead, until I reach Akilah and step out into the cold evening breeze. It brushes my hair back and I take a deep breath. The first I have taken since seeing my mother tied and being dragged by the hands of a guard.

Akilah is in the same clothing as me—a woven brown coat that feels uncomfortable, like the rough and grainy material of a potato sack. It contrasts the darker brown of her skin, and the scars that are revealed on her arms. This may not be the first time she has been tortured.

Both Zayen and Nawaz are waiting outside already, strapped with an assortment of weapons. They look every bit the warriors that they have been forced to be.

The differences in their status is evident in the small details. The fine stitching of Nawaz's deep blue shalwar kameez, lined with silver thread, compared to Zayen's sirwal and plain cloth shirt; the styling of Nawaz's hair, compared to Zayen, whose hair is shorter and disheveled.

There is a piece of his hair that has curled against his forehead, and it makes me want to brush it back into place. But I will not, because he hates me.

I don't like the way he looks at me, like he want to bury me alive. This situation is not my fault.

There are a group of guards standing outside in a structured line. At first, I think it is to make sure that we leave, but the expressions on their faces say otherwise. Admiration, directed towards Nawaz.

As I ascend the steps, I come to stand in front of Zayen. "Who are those kids?" I ask, tilting my head up to watch him. He didn't even go to say goodbye to them.

I barely got time to hug my mother goodbye. She isn't the same. Of course she wouldn't be, because she was unwillingly removed from her home. She just kept telling me the same thing. You're going home now.

He doesn't bother responding, turning his back to me in ignorance. His posture is rigid, as if he is holding back from saying or doing something.

He probably wants to choke me, or put a weapon to my throat the way he did in the library. Well, I want to do the same to him. He can't completely ignore me for the entirety of the journey.

I don't know what to do. I have never had to deal with a man's anger before. It has always been me and my mother.

Maybe the best way to go about this is to react gently. I place my hand against the muscles of his back, causing them to tense further. "Zayen, I know you blame me for this. I'm sorry." I'll get it out the way, to let there be peace between us. The the only way we're going to succeed with getting what we need, is if we're a team.