Zayen

A woman steps out of the shadows behind the thief, barely visible in the darkness. She has a strange muzzle on her face which muffled her words. For some reason, I want to be in this cage, stepping in between the two of them.

This thief keeps getting herself into deeper trouble.

Anyone who is willing to make a deal in this place is never willing to trade fairly. They will always ask for too much.

"You. It's you." The thief steps closer, and I immediately want to reach through the bars and pull her back. How could she possibly know this muzzled woman?

"Who are you?" I deepen my voice, hoping to come off as intimidating. She can't clearly see my guard clothing, or the weapons at my side, so my tone will have to suffice. "How can you help, when you are in the same situation as her?"

The woman, frustrated, tries to pull the muzzle from her face but it does nothing. The only reason I can see any movement of hers is because part of our training is fighting in the dark.

I sigh. "Come to the bars. I will cut it for you."

Either this woman has a foolish amount of trust, or she does not care for her life, because she steps closer to me and allows me to lift a weapon to her face.

"Do you think this is a clever position to get yourself into with a stranger?" I ask, even as I lower my weapon.

The muzzle clatters against the floor. When she finally speaks, her voice is gentle and melodic. "You do not need to question my intelligence. I know what battles I can win. The fact that you are down here says that you value something that I have access to." She turns to look behind her.

Is she talking about the thief? "You think I value her? I'll hand you my blade and you can cut her throat, if you wish. Watch if I flinch."

The woman assesses me for a while. "Hmm. So what you said, about wanting to help her, it was a lie?"

"No, I will help her. That does not mean I like her, nor does it mean I will bargain with a stranger for a girl I do not know. So if you were to threaten her life, it would make little difference to me." That is the truth. I don't like liars. I don't like thieves. She is both.

The thief steps forward. Her voice sounds forced, unsure. "What's your name?" She puts a hand on the woman's shoulder. "Is your stomach alright? I saw—" Her breath shudders. "I don't know what I saw. Why would they . . . ?"

"My name is Akilah." The woman lifts a hand to her stomach, where the wound must be. "You ask why they would harm me. The answer is simple. Human beings are selfish, designed to always want more, especially the ones in power.

"Where are you from?" The thief asks. "What do they want that badly? They had a tray of weapons to hurt you. Have you been here—?"

It's moments like this that the thief shows she is no royal. She does not have a way with words. "How will you help?" I ask, instead.

I can't see the thief's expression clearly, but I'm sure she is glaring at me for interrupting her. It doesn't matter, because I don't have a lot of time down here. Another guard could come down here at any time.

Akilah, tortured and captured, still stands tall. "I am from Aleamiq. The real Aleamiq. The Hakeem wants something from my home—a stone that will grant him what he desires most. He could only offer me materialistic things, money or gold or pretty dresses. All things that mean nothing."

The thief scoffs under her breath. It must be hard to swallow those words, when she has grown up with very little. Money only means little to those who have an abundance of it.

"But you saved my life. I owe you a debt," she tells the thief.

"You don't owe me anything."

"You walked in to help me, even though you knew it would cost you. Doing a good deed for others is not a small thing. I want to help."

She lets out a huff of air, then nods. "How will you help? You're locked up in here too. You can't give the stone to the Hakeem. He doesn't deserve that power."

"I can make a deal, that I will bring the stone to the rightful heir of the throne." Even though the woman is not looking at me, I can feel the suggestion of her words. But there is no way she could know. It is a secret, kept only between me and my father.

"To Nawaz? He could be worse than his father."

"It is a risk we have to take." The woman steps up to the bars, looking for me. "Tell the Hakeem that I request his presence immediately."

~~*~~

The woman, Akilah, sits at the low table in the Hakeem's meeting room. At the Hakeem's side is Nawaz, whose eyes keep drifting to the shivering thief.

She may no longer have the intention to trick the prince into loving her, but it seems like he might have already fallen into the trap. But perhaps love is too strong a word. It only seems that he wants to keep her warm, and then undress her.

It's the same thing he wants for most women he lays eyes on.

I stand at the door, alongside three other guards of the palace. The people who work inside the palace do not become friends, usually. It is dangerous to care, because workers come and go here—and sometimes they go, and are never seen again.

But the guards stay. Guards are trained from teenage years, like Ali and I were, and they swear themselves to the service of the palace. They do not leave, not without a command to do so. I hated every second of swearing to serve my father, when he looked at me like I was nothing.

Now he barely looks at me at all.

"You are agreeing to bring the stone here, to the palace? What has changed your mind?" the Hakeem asks, shifting on the pillow he is sitting on.

"I only swear to deliver it to the heir of the throne." Akilah gestures to Nawaz. "But it is not something I can do alone, so I'm return for your help. I request the assistance of Malaika and two of your best guards."

The Hakeem doesn't like requests or favours. He regards her in silence. "Very well," he says after some consideration. "You may go on this journey, and I will provide with one guard—however, I will also be sending my son to accompany you, and to ensure you follow through on your word."

Nawaz turns to his father in shock, but says nothing. "Where is the stone?" he asks after recollecting himself.

"We will head towards Diyar, but the location of the stone will be further west." Akilah does not explain more than that. Nawaz clearly has more questions, because there is nothing further west than Diyar, but he says nothing.

Ever the obedient prince.

My fists tighten, remembering every time he sent his guards to my rooms. To do the things he was too cowardly to do himself.

"Very well. We shall set out this evening, if you will allow it." Akilah dips her head, showing her respect.

The Hakeem waves his hand to me. "You will go with them, and protect them. With your life, if you must."

Nawaz meets my gaze, a surprised yet satisfied expression on his face. Once we leave, nothing is going to protect you. I try to send the message through the intensity of my gaze.

"To ensure that both my son and the stone are returned to me, I have created an incentive." The Hakeem gestures with two fingers to the guards standing in the arches behind me.

They bring out three figures, bound and silenced with cloths wrapped around their mouths.

When Aya sees me in the room, she starts crying and tries to reach out for me but one of the guards hold her back. This is not possible.

A soft cry leaves the thief's lips as she rushes to the tallest of the three figures. An older, slim woman with the same brown curls and lack of height as the thief.

Gossamer curtains hanging in front of the arched windows continue to flutter, blowing in wind that suddenly seems to dry and warm. It makes it hard to breath, as if with every breath, desert sand fills my lungs.

The only sound is the soft whisper of the thief speaking to her mother, holding her close.

"Do not worry yourselves. They will have grand rooms and will be fed well. They will not have to lift a finger. I will insure they are cared for," the Hakeem reassures. I wait for the other half of his statement, because there is always a—"However, if within a month, your journey is unsuccessful, their throats will be cut."

At that statement, Saad shifts, trying to get away from the guard and to me. "Ba," he calls for me, then looks towards his sister, tears filling his eyes.

I clench my jaw and look ahead, refusing to meet their eyes; refusing to show that I care. If I do, it will put them in worse danger. I tuck my pain deep down in my chest, and refuse to let it show the way the thief is.

No matter how badly I want to hold them, to whisper against the tops of their heads that they will be okay. That would be an empty promise, when the Hakeem may as well be holding a knife to their necks at this moment.

The thief comes to me, holding onto my forearm. "Do something."

I want to shout at her, to stop being stupid. Does she not see there is a strategy at play, and the Hakeem will exploit our every move? "Go back to your seat," I demand, moving her wrist and pushing her away from me.

I accidentally use too much force, and she stumbles backwards. The look in her eyes nearly makes me apologise, until I see Saad and Aya in their shackles.

This is her fault. If she hadn't come to the palace, stuck her nose into other people's business, none of this would be happening. These innocent children would be safe.

"Sit," I demand, glaring at her. I make sure to make the command sound like I am speaking to a badly behaved dog.

She lowers herself beside Akilah at the table, but her eyes do not leave her mother. The Hakeem dismisses us after confirming that we will be leaving tonight.

"I'm sorry, mama. I love you," the thief calls as her mother is dragged away.

"Alara, be careful," is all her mother says, her voice raspy. So that's her name.

I dare to look at Saad and Aya one last time, unknowing if I'll see them again. They watch me, searching for answers. I wish I could tell them I love them, and that they did nothing wrong.

The anger in my chest causes a ringing in my ears. It makes it impossible to think.

The room empties out, but I don't move. Not until the thief's hands are pushing against my chest. Her eyes are filled with uncontained fury. "How dare you?"

Her fist swings towards my jaw, but I grab it and spin her around, pulling her back against me. I wrap on forearm against the curve of her neck and the other around her midsection to stop her arms from moving.

She tries to shift, but nothing works. She will get out when I allow it. "Stop trying to fight me. I am a trained, royal guard," I say, my voice low.

She squirms against me, but finally stills when she realises it is getting her nowhere. Her breathing is ragged.

I tug my forearm against her throat, pulling her closer to me. Anger pumps through my blood. She deserves to feel this way, because it is her fault. "I hate you, Malaika. I'm going to make sure you wish you had never stepped foot inside the palace."

She huffs. "Good. Because I hate you, too. Now get your hands off me."

~~*~~

*Excited voice* It's happening

T w i t t e r : xPineappleGirlx
I n s t a g r a m : laylaawrites
Y o u t u b e : xThePineappleGirlx

Lots of love and jelly tots - xThePineappleGirlx