THIS WAS A mistake.
A big, ginormous, mistake.
Maybe it was because she was in the wrong place in the wrong time, or maybe it was because she had decided to wear a tint of yellow that day, making her stand out from the rest.
Whatever the reason, she shouldn't be here.
She had heard tales of a terrifying, vicious man, with the blood of a thousand young women on his hands. She knew of the women round up in groups, sent off to the palace doomed to never see the sunrise again.
Not for a second did she think she would ever be a part of those women.
But here she was.
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BEFORE I TELL you about the situation Sahar had found herself in, it would be wrong if I didn't tell you a bit about herself.
Sahar was a storyteller, a girl who found the shapes we call letters infatuating, mesmerized by the way they formed words that formed sentences on paper.
Sahar knew not many after living eighteen summers, she and her baba lived a quiet life, in the poor section of the city of Archidona.
Sahar was roaming the merchants' stalls, looking around for something to pickpocket. She was waiting for the seller to turn his gaze, when, out of nowhere, arms had grabbed her and dragged her to the palace gates.
"What is my crime?" She panted, on her knees, held by two men behind her. She faced a large man with his hand on his talvaar, her yellow scarf covering her eyes. "There is no way I was careless", she thought. She had never slipped up in all her years of thievery.
The soldier chuckled, pitying the girl. "Your crime is simply you are a girl," he spat, motioning for the men behind her to drag her into the palace.
Her heart stopped.
She would be Badshah Nasir's bride tonight.
And that meant she would never see morning.
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Where Sand Lies | hiatus
Historical Fiction"Because, your highness, where sand lies, oceans are always close, and that girl... that girl, she-" "I know." The king cut his advisor off. "That girl has oceans in her mind, and poems swimming beneath her skin." Sahar's heart dropped to her stomac...
