Advise your brother
Soraya woke with a start, her cheeks wet with tears she could not remember shedding. Her heart sat heavy in her chest, as though something precious had already been lost. The nightmare slipped away like smoke the moment she tried to grasp it.
The door creaked open. Habi entered carrying a tray of fragrant mint tea, her round face brightening at the sight of her young mistress—until she saw the tears.
“Oh no, my dove, why are you crying?”
Soraya startled and quickly wiped her face with the back of her hand. “I… I don’t know. I think I had a nightmare.”
Habi set the tray down and sat on the edge of the bed, taking Soraya’s hand in both of hers. “Tell me about it, mami.”
Soraya searched her mind but found nothing. She forced a sheepish smile and began to weave a lie. “I was at Nora’s house. We were eating, and just when I reached for the meat, Imran came and snatched it all away.”
She pretended to sniffle, adding a dramatic pout.
Habi stared at her for a second, then dropped her hand with a playful scoff. “You clown.”
Soraya burst into laughter, the sound shaky but genuine. For a brief moment, the heaviness lifted.
She rose from the bed and stretched. “Where is Mother?”
“At her sister’s. And your father has gone to the palace.”
Soraya’s eyes sparkled. “Yesss. That means I can go riding—”
“Not today,” Habi interrupted, a knowing glint in her eye. “Imran has an important company. I believe… the Second Prince is with him.”
Soraya paused. Habi only ever mentioned important guests when she wanted her to pay attention.
The older woman tilted her head. “Would you like to take them tea and sweets?”
Soraya nodded, trying to keep her voice light. “Let me bathe first. I’ll come collect the tray from the kitchen.”
After a quick bath, Soraya slipped into a simple but elegant kaftan. Curiosity tugged at her. Instead of heading straight to the kitchen, she moved through the garden toward her father’s study, where low voices drifted through the open window.
She was short enough that she didn’t need to crouch. Rising on her toes, she peered inside.
Imran sat with two men. One was unmistakably Prince Zahir—tall, sharp-featured, and dressed in rich indigo. The other she did not recognise.
She was about to pull away when Zahir’s voice reached her:
“You need an heir, Zahir. And for that, you need a bride.”
Soraya’s breath caught. She should have left. Instead, she stayed.
“I do,” Zahir replied, “but I have no one in mind. Suggestions?”
The third man leaned forward. “You don’t need just a wife. You need someone willing to die for you. An ally.”
Imran chuckled. “You’ll find someone soon enough.”
Zahir’s next words stopped Soraya’s heart.
“What about your sister?”
Imran’s response was immediate and dismissive. “No. She’s a coward. If she were to hear our plan to overthrow the Sultan and claim the throne, she would cause us trouble. Worst case, she would report us to save herself.”
The world tilted.
Soraya’s knees weakened. Cold sweat prickled across her skin as the men’s laughter drifted out the window. They spoke of the Sultan—the man who executed his own mother, his concubines, even a child—casually, as if he were just another obstacle.
She pressed a trembling hand to her mouth and backed away, barely able to breathe.
By the time she reached her room, her mind was reeling. Imran… what have you done?
She quickly adorned herself with gold jewellery, draped a fine mantilla veil over her hair, and touched perfume to her wrists and throat. Then she collected the tea tray from Habi and returned to the study, forcing her face into a calm mask.
When the door opened, all three men looked up.
“You have such a beautiful and kind sister, Imran,” the unknown man said warmly.
Soraya offered a small, polite smile.
Zahir studied her. “You are quiet today. What’s wrong?”
Imran gestured. “Go greet His Highness properly.”
Soraya approached the prince, knelt gracefully, and bowed until her forehead nearly touched the rug. “Long live Your Highness.”
Zahir smiled, pleased. “Thank you, Soraya.”
As she rose, he added teasingly, “If you keep smiling at me like that, I may have to speak with your father about taking you home with me.”
Not long ago, those words would have sent her floating for days. Today, they made her stomach twist with disgust.
She gave another small smile. “Let me return with more refreshments,” she murmured, then slipped out of the room.
The moment the door closed behind her, Soraya leaned against the wall and took a deep, shuddering breath.
Her brother was going to get them all killed.
The heavy wooden doors finally closed behind Prince Zahir and the visiting nobleman. Imran waited until the sound of their horses faded down the road before he made his way to his sister's room. She had been acting strangely earlier - too quiet, too tense.
He pushed the door open without knocking.
Soraya was standing in the middle of the room, staring at the closed door as if it might reveal some secret. When her gaze shifted to him, it was cold.
Imran frowned. "What's wrong, Sora? Is it Mama again?" He leaned against the doorframe, trying to keep his tone light. "If you two are having one of your misunderstandings, you can go stay with Nora for a week or two. No need to walk around looking like nobody feeds you."
Soraya tilted her head, silent.
Imran sighed. "So it's not Mama? Are you fasting again? You know how you get when-"
"What were you and the Second Prince talking about?" Soraya cut in, her voice low but sharp.
Imran chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Don't worry about that. He was just teasing you. There's no way he actually meant he would marry you. You know how Zahir is."
Soraya's eyebrows drew together. Anger, fear, and disbelief twisted inside her chest. For a moment she wanted to scream at him - to throw everything she had overheard in his face.
Instead, she clenched her fists and said coldly, "Get out of my sight."
Imran blinked, visibly taken aback by the venom in her voice. "Soraya..."
She turned away from him, refusing to meet his eyes.
He stood there for a few seconds, confusion written across his face, then muttered, "Fine. I'm sorry if I said something wrong." He stepped back and closed the door quietly behind him.
The moment he was gone, Soraya's legs trembled. She sank onto the edge of her bed, burying her face in her hands.
How can I warn him?
She wanted to confront him, to shake him and beg him to abandon this madness. But the words stuck in her throat. The walls of their home suddenly felt thin. Any maid, any guard, even a passing servant eager for a reward could report a single suspicious word. Treason against Sultan Nasir was not merely dangerous - it was suicide for the entire family.
She couldn't risk it. Not yet. Not like this.
Soraya drew in a shaky breath, her mind racing.
How could she stop her brother from walking straight into the fire?
---------->
The next morning, Soraya made her way to her brother's house on the quieter side of the city. The sun was already warm on her veil as she stepped through the arched doorway.
Nora greeted her with a bright, genuine smile, one hand resting gently on her rounded belly. She was expecting Imran's first child - a boy, the midwives predicted. Kind, soft-spoken, and already glowing with motherhood, Nora was everything Soraya had once imagined for their family's future.
"Soraya! How have you been, my dear?"
"I'm doing well," Soraya replied, forcing warmth into her voice. "And look at you... you're glowing. You're going to be such a wonderful mother."
Nora laughed softly, touching her belly. "I hope so. Imran has been fussing over me like a mother hen lately."
Soraya smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Is he here? I need to speak with him."
"He finished breakfast and went straight into his study. He mentioned he'd return to our parents' house later this afternoon. Shall I take you to him?"
"No need," Soraya said quickly. "I know the way."
Nora nodded with a trusting smile. "Alright. I'll prepare some tea for you both."
Soraya walked down the cool corridor and pushed open the door to the study, closing it firmly behind her.
Imran looked up from the papers on his desk. When he saw her, a relieved smile spread across his face. "Look who's here. Have you finally cooled down from yesterday?"
Soraya didn't smile back. She kept her voice low. "Is this house safe from spies?"
Imran's expression shifted. He stood slowly, confusion turning to wariness. "Why would you ask something like that?"
"Because," Soraya whispered, stepping closer, "I figured a man plotting a coup with the Second Prince would make sure his home was free of listening ears."
Imran's face paled. He moved around the desk in two quick strides, grabbing her arm. "What are you talking about?" he hissed.
Soraya's eyes filled with desperate tears. "Imran... please. I'm begging you. Don't do this. Don't put our entire family on the line. Think of Nora. Think of your child. If the Prince is forcing you into this, I can report it myself. We can still be spared-"
"Enough." Imran shook his head sharply, his grip tightening. "This has nothing to do with you. Keep your mouth shut. What we are doing is righteous. We are delivering this kingdom from a tyrant who has spilled enough innocent blood. If I must become a martyr for that, then so be it."
Soraya stared at him in disbelief. "And what about us? What about Nora? What about your unborn son?"
"For the greater good," Imran said, his voice steady and frighteningly calm, "we will be remembered as heroes."
"You fool," Soraya snapped, her voice rising. "They will kill all of us-"
The door opened.
Nora stepped in carrying a tray of tea and cookies, her smile fading into confusion. "Who will kill us?" she asked, half-laughing, clearly thinking it was some silly sibling quarrel.
Imran froze.
Soraya recovered first. "Mom and Dad," she said quickly, forcing a shaky laugh. "If they find out Imran still hasn't bought me that horse I've been asking for."
Nora's face relaxed into a warm laugh. "Imran, buy your sister the horse already!" She set the tray down. "I'll go speak to them nicely. You two behave."
The moment Nora left and the door clicked shut, the false smiles vanished.
Soraya took a deep, trembling breath. "Please, Imran... don't do this."
Imran looked at her - truly looked - and for a brief second, something like regret flickered in his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Sora."
Soraya turned and walked out of the study without another word. Behind her, the future of her family felt like it was crumbling with every step.
