Chapter 1
THE DARK WALLS OF THE PRISON HAD SEVENTY-NINE CRACKS.The coarse texture alone had prevented her from descending into complete madness.
Was it a span of days?
Was it years?
The yellowish leaves dotted with brown that drifted into the dungeons with the wind meant it was autumn.
All she remembered was winter.
She hadn’t seen the spring birdagain.
The radiance of summer had passed, without gracing her.
The whip hadn’t kissed her skin for a long time, yet her frame burnt every time she held the cold rails and looked into the void.
Queen Rehemia had considered her obstinate and disowned her. But Kamarah preferred death to having her entire life dictated by the queen’s whims.
She pressed to the stone walls, wrapping her arms around her knees.
Would there ever be a respite?
How could she ever return to the life she had?
She closed her eyes, her fingers tracing the cracks as she took deep breaths.
Everything wasn’t overyet.
Lilah would still be trying to free her. Minister Jafar wouldn’t leave her in the clutches forever. The soldiers, who pledged loyalty to her, would still await her rejuvenation.
The scent of rain soaked sand hit her.
Like liberation.
There was a subtle rustle.
She watched the soldiers guarding her cell walk out. Her cell had never been left unguarded.
The emptiness made her lips purse, a sliver of hope, coursing through her.
“Lilah,” she whispered.
“Princess.”
“Lilah,” she repeated, hearing the hushed tone.
A cracking sound echoed across the silence as she spun around. The prominent crack widened further, leaving a gap through which drizzle sopped the rough grounds.
“Lilah,” she murmured, rushing towards the wall.
“Princess, listen to me carefully.”
“Are you safe?”
“I am, but not for long. Wazir summoned every soldier of Mallaika Rehamia, spreading news of a war threat—” Lilah’s voice broke as the roar of a cannon ball filled the air. She steadied herself. “Now, there is only one choice, princess.”
“Speak,” Kamarah demanded.
“The Mallaika was not in her right mind today. I am unaware of the reasons, but she took in goblets of wine, more than she has ever consumed. I mixed poppy pod powder in the last goblet of wine. She was inebriated; the last goblet pushed her to a deep slumber,” she said quietly.
“What should I do?” Kamarah asked.
“Wazir will send Sahir; he will tap the ground with every step before he opens the cell. In case someone else walks in, Princess, don’t let them know you were waiting. The Queen’s men have eyes everywhere.”
She paused for a moment.
“You walk into the chamber and stab the queen or cripple her so that she is pushed off from her position,” she added. Kamarah moistened her chapped lips and swallowed the lump slowly forming in her throat.
“W-what of Nazeera?”
“I will take care of her princess.”
A beat of silence.
“I need to leave now.” Lilah said urgently before the oppressive silence descended again.
“Imma, will I become the queen?”
Kamarah, a toddler then, asked, wearing her mother’s crown with fascination.
Her mother smiled, kneeling to her height.
“Imma, isn’t it a norm that a queen shouldn’t kneel?” She asked, cupping her mother’s beautiful face, glancing into her blue eyes.
“For my Rah, I will.” The queen kissed her temple and settled her on her lap, cuddling her. “And you, my princess, will become the next mallaika.”
Kamarah watched the walls, blinking her tears away.
Now it was the ruthless Mallaika, who captured her, not the mother she had adored.
The flames of hell would consume her if she killed the very soil that nurtured a plant. What other choice did she have when the very soil burnt the roots of the plant?
She knew for sure, the hell of Thamra surpassed the heaven that punished sins.
She clenched her fists and waited.
The chime of a bell striking wood.
It continued again.
and again.
Then Sahir stood in front of her.
“Princess.”
He murmured, looking around for a moment before he retrieved the keys, quickly unlocking the cellar.
“Wazir has indeed kept the soldiers preoccupied, but we cannot take risks. We need to cross the royal gardens and step into the harem without catching anyone’s eyes.”
She nodded, ripping the edge of her robe to cover her face. Then they ran towards the entrance, stepping up the spiral staircase.
The musky scent of rain, of a withering rose and a blooming bud, hit her nostrils.
“Princess,” Sahir urged.
She snapped out of the moment, quickening her pace until they stood in front of the maze that led into the harem.
“It is your journey from now.” He uttered, stepping away.
The maze had been changed.
But Kamarah remembered.
The sun may rise, but those who take the path of the sun’s descent will never return.
North was the right path before.
It would again be North. She remembered her mother’s words: “A change may be an illusion.”
The east would be a trap.
The echoes of boots, nearing her, hit her ear. So she ran into the northern path of the maze; she pursed her lips as she stood in front of a three-way path. The west wasn’t the answer; the north was taken. The only way left was east.
And she was right.
She set foot into the familiar space, she had been raised in.
Hiding behind the pillar, she watched the aisle. The other door that led into the chamber of the queen was left unguarded. Lilah had indeed taken Nazeera away.
She rushed towards it, the door was bolted from inside.
Clenching her fists, she turned around and found a jagged piece of ceramic from a shattered vase. Taking it, she pushed it into the small wedge between both the wooden doors as she pushed it up to unbolt the latch.
Her arms ached, but she pushed the metal up until the latch clicked open.
She looked around again before she opened the gargantuan doors and rushed inside, bolting it again.
The chamber was encrusted with cold, the scent of her mother’s rose perfume pervading the very air. In the center, on the royal silk, lay her mother, lost in a deep slumber.
She watched the woman.
The beautiful face she remembered was no longer hers.
She looked ugly and cunning, akin to the witches people spoke of.
Kamarah took the dagger on the shelf and watched her, a bead of sweat glistening against her temple.
“You will accept every verdict of mine and agree to it, and I will crown you.” The queen spoke, her nails raking against the whip.
“Imma, I cannot be...your puppet,” Kamarah spat.
The queen’s eyes sharpened.
“You dare to speak against me?” she spat, swinging the whip as it kissed Kamarah’s arm, making her whimper.
“Will you listen?”
“No, Imma, I cannot blindly listen,” she repeated.
The queen glanced at Nazeera sharply as she blinked before bringing a red-hot iron. Rehemia took it while looking at Kamarah with disdain before pressing it against the sole of her daughter’s feet, making her black out in the intense agony.
Kamarah glanced at the woman with loathing.
She raised the dagger and stabbed the queen in her chest as the woman jolted, her vision swimming yet aware.
“K-Kamarah.”
Rehemia tried to fight back, but the intoxication made her vision play tricks on her.
“Goodbye, Imma.” Kamarah pressed a kiss to her temple before plunging the dagger into her thrice, each stab causing the queen to jolt in agony before she finally closed her eyesforever.
The heavy doors opened, and it was Nazeera, Lilah behind her, her frame rigid.
Nazeera’s lips parted as she looked at the fallen queen, and Lilah’s face softened with relief, though she kept her facade.
Nazeera walked in, her steps heavy, and announced aloud.
“The Mallaika has fallen, and the princess is her murderess!”
‣
Do read, vote and comment.
