Written In The Scars

Chapter 29

The Crown Prince had been enjoying lunch in the courtyard with his wife when a few royal guards ushered over to them, informing him of the news. 

"What is the matter?" Thaina enquired, after Harun's expression had morphed into one of anger and distaste.

"I have to go, Baba has summoned me to the Throne room,"

"Wait, Habibi-" Thaina called, but Harun had already rushed off with the guards. Her handmaiden, joined her side bearing a nervous look.  "What is happening?"

Reem kept her gaze to the floor, fiddling with her fingers before she replied. "Word has it, they've caught the man who broke into the Palace,"

"Really?" Thaina exclaimed, jumping up from her chair. "Then I must go,"

As Thaina took a hasty step, Reem stepped in front of her, holding out her arms. "I-I'm afraid you can't,"

The Princess stared wide-eyed, but her handmaiden kept her shaking gaze on the floor. "Whyever not?"

"I-I was informed not to allow you to come by the His Highness himself," 

"You're jesting," Thaina laughed, her brows creasing up in confusion.

And before Reem could reply, Thaina had skidded around her, fire in her steps as she headed for the Throne room.

"Sahiba stop! Please, I beg you, my life is on the line!"

The Princess halted, pursing her lips and then sighing as her maid rushed over to her. She absolutely hated how her uncle and father-in-law knew just how to blackmail her.

Meanwhile, Harun had just arrived by the magnificent doors to the Throne room, the guards at either side greeting him before pushing back the gigantic doors to reveal his father seated on the other end.

The Throne room was the most grandiose space in the entire Palace, closely matched by the Banquet Hall. Although the size was smaller than the latter, the interior design of the room expressed nothing but luxury and wealth. On special occasions, the handwoven silk rug would be laid down across the entire floor, threads of gold, beige and red forming swirling patterns of flowers that danced around the centre mandala. It had been a gift from the Ottoman Sultan. However, it appeared to be absent as Harun stepped in, the marble tiles slapping against his sandals. Thick velvet drapes of the same shade of maroon, complementing the luxurious aura and proudly indicating the colours of the royal emblem, were tied back, allowing for the sun's glimmering rays to shine through the ceiling-length windows. From the domed ceiling hung a twin pair of chandeliers, the crystals reflecting geometrical shapes of light across the hand-drawn Arabic calligraphy.

At the end of the room, the floor elevated by an inch where the grand throne sat, its entire body of etchings dusted with gold. Beside it, sat smaller versions with velvet cushioning, three to the right and two to the left. All were empty accept for the Grand throne where the King now sat, wearing a stern expression as his father always did. On either sides of the throne, a row of Majlis seats had been placed, which were now occupied by the many extended male figures of the family. Harun made sure to shake the hands of his cousins and uncles before taking his seat by his father. Many of his father's advisers and consorts were present, all eagerly waiting by the foot of the pedestal.

"Your Highness has summoned my presence," Harun greeted.

"Sit,"

Harun did as followed, taking a seat to his father's left.

"Your brother, where is he?" the King boomed, his voice void of emotion.

"He is resting in the Royal Wards, from what I believe,"