I was floating into the darkness, my body weightless as it moved like a merman in the water. The fog thick and heavy, my vision blurry when I watched the two little figures. The third figure bigger than the two of them, crouching to talk to them.
“No, sweet, it doesn’t hurt much,” she whispered, her voice soft as she caressed little Zain’s cheek and ruffled Khalid’s hair.
I frowned, my eyes on her swollen cheek.
Childhood me knew what had happened. He had seen it. Tried to stop it and had received a lashing of his own afterwards. “But I saw Father sl—”
“I fell down from the stairs, Zain,” her voice wasn’t soft anymore. It didn’t have any emotions. “Take your brother Khalid with you. Quickly before your father finds the both of you and scolds you two.”
“But I don’t want to leave you,” Khalid whined, his hands wrapping around her neck. “I don’t want Father to hurt you.”
The dark room blurred away, changed into the light room. I knew it was Zara’s nursery. Khalid was watching over her and painting a baby elephant, her favorite animal, on a canvas. Little Zain was scowling at them, jealous of their relationship as he skimmed through the pages of the book that Rahim had given him, saying they were necessary for someone who would be the next sultan.
I jerked back when our mothers rushed into the room, hugging us all and kissing our cheeks. They ignored our demands to tell them what happened while I begged them not to leave, no voice coming out of my mouth. They couldn’t hear me as they said their goodbyes, promising me to take care of my family before leaving.
I tried to hold their hands, stopping them but it went right through them. The room was changing as I started falling down, only to land in the shadowy halls of the Court Room. There, on the throne, my father’s figure was hunched over the arms, his sobs echoing in the empty room. I looked again. It wasn’t empty.
Two coffins were open, the bodies of my mothers covered in white sheets.
Bile rose in my mouth as I backed away, glaring at the man who cried for them.
“You don’t deserve to mourn over them!” I shouted, rage pouring out of me. “You killed them. Mentally and emotionally, before they died in that stupid plane crash. You could have stopped them from going to London, but you were too busy giving us one of your lessons. I hate you.” I landed on my knees, tears gleaming in my eyes.
“I wish I had killed you.”
I floated once again, my eyes adjusting to the horror of that night. The night that still haunted me and my siblings.
But it wasn’t Khalid pushing a sword through my father’s body.
It was me, my own hands wrapped around the hilt of the sword, my eyes widening as I pushed the sharp end through Nasrin’s chest. Her deep brown eyes were wide with shock, tears sliding down her pale cheeks.
“No, no, no, I didn’t…” I shuddered, trying to pull back the sword, but I kept pushing, the golden gown covered in blood red. “Please, no!”
Her cold fingers touched my cheek, my body freezing at her touch. Her skin was no longer golden, it was ashen. It looked brittle. In a raspy voice, she whispered, “I told you not to force me into this marriage, Zain. Look what you have done.”
I yelled for help, Zara and Khalid shaking their heads at me, looking disappointed as they turned around and walked out of the room. I cried, trying to hold onto Nasrin’s body when she fell down on her knees, her hand dropping from my cheek.
“This is the curse of our family, boy,” Salman Al Latif said as he sat in the armchair of his room, watching me breathe air into her mouth, pumping her heart. “You will be the reason for her death.”
“No!” I bellowed. “I am nothing like you. I won’t kill her. I won’t ever—”
“I was the reason behind your mothers’ death, child. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, little Zain. You are just like me. A monster—”
A loud gasp broke me out of the spell. My eyes widening as I blinked rapidly and looked at my surroundings. I was in my room. There was no one sitting in the armchair by the window. I was alone.
Sitting up, I wiped the tears from my cheek and ran a hand through my hair. Another nightmare. Only it was worse because I killed Nasrin in it. Taking a shaky breath, I swallowed two glasses of water and wiped down sweat from my chest, removing my tee shirt.
I had to sleep on the other side of the bed because it was covered in my sweat, counting numbers in my head and wishing that I would get a couple hours of sleep before dawn. Without any nightmares plaguing me.
* * *
The dark suit hugged my frame with the little silver threads embroidered beautifully on the lapels and the cuffs. My eyes seemed full of hate when I stared at my reflection, recalling last night and the nightmare.
The way I had been with Nasrin, manipulating her and forcing her to accept the marriage. Just like my father. The way I had looked into her burning brown eyes and threatened her brother, her future. The way I had disappointed Khalid…
Bile rose in my stomach.
My eyes averted towards the sword hung over an empty wall. I glared at it. The sharp blade was sheathed carefully in the white and golden sheath. I had to remind myself that it wasn’t dripping with blood anymore. It did not stain the beige wall with a splatter of blood. But it was tainted with the curse that my father had passed on to all of us.
After all these years, I had tried to be better than him. A better brother. A better sultan. A better husband. But I was failing miserably, and we hadn’t even been engaged yet. My fingers dug into my palm. The screams of agony of my mother echoing in my head, her silent cries when my father wasn’t around, hiding her pain and suffering from us until he allowed her to fly and her dying in a plane crash.
I was ashamed and scared that I was doing the same to Nasrin.
Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, little Zain. You are just like me. A monster—
“No, I am not.” I gritted my teeth, ignoring the taunting words of my dead father.
“Don’t tell me you are drunk, Brother,” Khalid said, sauntering into my room and glancing at the blank wall where I looked. His stark face morphed into anger. It hurt him the most. After all, the sword was the living reminder of the burden he shouldered for killing our father in front of me and Zara.
Guilt crashed into me, wishing I had shouldered that burden, protected us, protected Zara from that monster. Wishing I had killed that man and not Khalid. I would do anything to erase that pain from his eyes.
“You should burn that rotten thing,” he said, his voice devoid of any emotion. “It stinks of that… man’s cruelty.”
“It’s a family heirloom and tradition, Khalid.”
He scoffed, walking towards me. He was wearing a darker suit, identical to mine. His eyes had bags underneath them, but he still looked handsome as ever.
“Family tradition, huh? Are you going to treat Nasrin the same way as father did to mo—”
“Watch. Your. Words,” I snarled, stepping closer to him. He may be taller than me, had more muscles, but the way I glared at him made him look away. Anger coursed through my blood when I said, “I have never raised my hand to anyone, especially Nasrin. Nor will I ever. You would see me without my arms if I ever do.”
He hummed mockingly, “Father never hit women, Zain. Not even mother until our second mother gave birth to Zara. It started then, you know, all the screams and cries we would hear. Probably still hear in our nightmares. We couldn’t do anything but watch and get hit when we tried to stop him.”
Khalid took a step towards me, his hazel eyes swirling with pain, which we both shared. “Do not make me cut your arms, because I will if you—”
I chuckled darkly, “Threatening your older brother like you did to our father?”
“Stop.”
We both pulled away before we could start fighting and looked at our little sister, her wide hazel eyes looking at both of us. We straightened ourselves, ready with an excuse—
“There’s so much anger in both of your eyes that sometimes I wonder to myself that you are the same brothers who used to teach me how to paint and how to wield a sword,” she said, wounding our pride and ego in one blow. “I heard you are getting engaged to Princess Nasrin today. Give these to her when you go visit her.”
Zara dropped the bouquet of jasmine on the mahogany table, her feet stomping.
“Zara, wait, I need to talk to you about last night—” Khalid went after her, giving me one last look before leaving me alone in my room with the flowers.
I took a deep breath. If I had tried to be a better brother and better sultan, then there’s nothing stopping me from being a better husband. I did not want to disappoint my late mothers, my brother, my little sister, myself and… especially Nasrin. She deserved better after living with the men she grew up with for twenty-six years.
I would give her a better life than she had ever dreamt of. After all, I was the Sultan of Azmia.
* * *
My palms were sweaty when I knocked on the door to Nasrin’s room, the guards stationed outside hiding their smile when they saw the white flowers in my hand. I cleared my throat and waited for the door to open.
“Princess told us to let you in if you visit her… or her maid,” one of the guards spoke.
Did she now? I stepped inside, locking the door behind me. Her room was clean, the subtle scent of jasmine and pine lingered in the fresh morning air, a warm breeze travelling through the open doors of the balcony into the room.
I glanced around. But she wasn’t here—
“In here, Sultan,” her husky voice poured out of the washroom.
My muscles tightened underneath my clothes. I could leave the flowers on the vanity dresser and ask her to talk with me later. But the way she called out to me… I was curious to know what she wanted to discuss with me in the bathroom, of all places.
I made my way towards it, mustering up courage when I realized the door was unlocked and anyone could have stepped inside. Swallowing, I pushed open the door. The exotic scent of bath oils wafted around the room, my eyes pinning on the woman taking a bath, submerged in the water, wearing nothing but a gorgeous smile.
“Good morning, Princess,” I said, removing my suit when it got too warm with the steam. I eyed the edge of the bath, made from an obsidian solid stone, carved into the shape of a bath, smoothed from the inside.
Nasrin smiled, her eyes dancing over my body. “Good morning, Zain.”
Fuck. Me.
The way she rolled out my name like a smooth purr had me tightening in my pants, hoping she couldn’t see how much it affected me.
“I will wait outside—”
“Please, sit,” she whispered, her golden arms glistening with water. I eyed the small stool near the bath and raised my brow at her. She continued, “Help me scrub my back, please.”
She did not just use the word please twice in five seconds.
I knew she was up-to something.
Still, I sat on the stool, shamelessly eyeing her sun-kissed skin, and rolled the sleeves of my black shirt over my elbow. I didn’t miss the way her warm brown eyes gazed at my arms, my hands, my fingers, as if she was wishing—
I clenched my jaw when I noticed the hardened peaks of her dusky nipples through the water. She came closer, her hair pinned up, eyes gleaming.
“I received the message from the maid to meet you, but I didn’t think you would call the Sultan to scrub your back,” I said, my voice lowering an octave when I took the loofah, wetting it and dropping a dollop of scented oil over it.
Nasrin teased, showing me her back, “This would be the least of your worries if we get married, Zain.”
I paused, my eyes on her. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior last night.”
“Huh.”
Leaning forward, I gently touched the loofah to her skin, noticing the shudder running over her back when I moved it across her shoulders. “I mean it, Nasrin. I shouldn’t have forced you to choose between me or that sheikh. Even if it’s too late for it, I am deeply sorry for the way I treated you.”
I took a deep breath, rubbing the lather over her spine. “You do not have to accept this marriage, if that’s your wish.”