Written In The Scars

Chapter 31

The sun awoke to see that many had arisen before it. As it stretched its arms across the horizon, it gazed upon the city dwellers who were already on their feet, leaving their homes to start the day. It shone light on their clay rooves and dusty streets, a beacon of hope as they continued on with their busy lives. 

However, for one individual, the break of dawn signalled his death. He had been dragged down from the Palace Prisons to the awakening city below it, his bare soles cracking in agony as he stumbled across the sandy roads barely conscious. His wrists were bound by a thick rope which was then tied to the harness of the horse in front of him. He held on to it, hoping it would keep him from stumbling face-first into the dirt. The walk had been bearable until they exited the outer Palace gates. A crowd of angry citizens greeted him with hurling stones and insults. Far too many pierced his face and knocked against his skull. He shut his eyes, gritting his teeth as the traitorous tears dripped from his shirt. He could feel something warm leaking from his hair, mixing with his sweat.

The tugging stopped. He hesitantly lifted his head and gazed around to see that the crowd had stepped back. He was jerked forward, the suddenness causing him to slip onto the ground. His hands and knees stung whilst the taste of dirt entered his mouth. A roar of laughter erupted around him. 

As they pulled him onto the stage, his eyes drifted to the blade in the hands of a large man. He watched as the man sharped it on a flat stone, the screeching sound clear in his throbbing ears. 

This is it, he thought as he lifted his gaze to the cloudless sky. He let the infinite depth of blue fill his sight before shutting his eyes again. He tried to picture his brother's last smile but the memory had disappeared. Instead, it was the face of a weeping woman. 

Tears flooded from his eyes. If they both had been born into different lives, would they have had a chance to be together? If they-

***

News of the execution had reached the Prince's ears as he sat with Haifa for breakfast. She had barely touched her food after that. He had yet to ask her about her conversation with Husaam, though he knew not to bother her now after realising how pale her face was. 

"I'm going to be sick," she mumbled before leaping up from her chair and rushing out. 

Abbas pursued after her, as she stumbled across the hallways, gripping onto the marble pillars for support. 

"Let's go back," he said, motioning towards their private section of the Palace, but she shook her head. 

"I need to go out," 

Once they reached the courtyard and took a seat on the brick patio, Haifa's heaving subsided. He sat beside her as she held onto the cool pillar, patting her back. Meena insisted on tending to her but Haifa declined her assistance.

"I'm fine," she huffed,  finally taking a stand. "I-I need to go and check on Salma," 

"I will come with you,"

"No-she will feel uncomfortable. I will go with Meena," 

Abbas sighed, running a hand through his hair as he reluctantly nodded. 

After the Visier attempted to snatch her away, Haifa had Salma escorted to one of the many guest rooms in the Palace. The guards greeted her, stepping away briefly as she knocked on the door before entering, Meena following suite. She found the room empty of life, the bedding untouched, and neither was the plate of food. Instead, the door to the balcony was open, the curtains dancing in the slight breeze.