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Rehana POV

Once he left me alone in the library, I started working on my plan. I had to find out the letters he must have written. I wanted to know how he wrote and the details they carried.

But, my mind was stuck on the word 'War.'

It would not be a possibility if he had mentioned it to me. There would be a war for sure.

But how did he reach the culprit? How did he find the name?

There must be someone who told him about him, whoever he was.

And I needed to find out who he was going to fight. My father sent those dacoits and was to wage war against the person who sent them; it must be my father. 

I could not let that happen. Not even the worst of my dreams.

I had to tell him.

But first, I had to find out who he was going to fight. And there was only one way to find that out. If there would be a war, there would be a few people who knew about it.

One would be his father because they talked when I eavesdropped them. I did not do it intentionally. I just went to meet him because he never stayed in bed whenever I woke up, and I listened to them talk about me.

The others would be the commanders. Or the people who would take charge of the war.

Sending a letter to his father to know the details in his name was way too risky. But, at least I should know how he writes and what kind of vocabulary he uses in case I need that.

Raking my eyes around, all I could see was the shelves full of thousands of books, loose papers, and old bindings.

I wondered where he kept the critical information and letters. Walking through the puzzle of the shelves, I reached the corner and noticed a significant table on which a map was laid open.

My brows knit with confusion as I found the burning oil lamp there.

So, he did not talk about the war; instead, he planned it entirely with his father because there was no chance there would be an open map, with the stone pieces kept in places with a candle burning around.

Gulping nervously, I stepped closer to it and noticed the pale yellow cloth lay wide, covering the whole of the wooden beast.

My gaze sharpened as soon as I noticed the names of Sultanates.

Darmiyan Sultanate was at the top left. There were no significant Sultanates around, and it seemed safe.

Hamid Sultanate was just below the Darmiyan Sultanate but bigger in size, making it spread to the right of the Arab as well.

And, then, there was a Sultanate smaller in size but closer to the borders. Kainat Sultanate. And if I was not wrong, it belonged to Ruhani and her husband. Besides this, there was a neighbouring Sultanate named Ayzaan Sultanate. It also belonged to Ruhani.

Below them, there was a small Sultanate, and then a thick line was drawn.

It seemed as if the borders of the group of Sultanates which was named boldly as Northern Arab.

That meant the place below the thick line was southern Arab. The whole place was collectively called Kabulistan.

What was below the southern Arab?

I unfolded the rest of the cloth and noticed the vast mountain ranges. There was no way to go through them, so the way to reach below the mountains was going through the left of the mountains, known as the Sindhiya.

There was a river going down.

And, then, my sight fell on Hind. The northern Hind and the Southern Hind.

I gulped, remembering that the place belonged to the relatives of Choti Ammijaan.

The empty land on the right of the mountains also led to the right side of Hind. There was a small mountain range between them as well. I wondered who lived in those empty places.

I was just going through the names of places when my sight fell on a three-inch big chess piece on a place near the border of northern Arab. It was a Queen. My brows squinted as I read the name of the Sultanate. Qamar Sultanate. It was a small one.

Stepping closer, I picked the piece up and gazed closely at him. It was near the borders. I noticed a few more soldier pieces near that Sultanate.

That meant he was going to wage a war against the Qamar Sultanate.

But why?

Who told him to do so?

Was my father in Qamar Sulatante?

I wanted the answers, and for that, I had to find out who told him about the Qamar Sultanate.

And then, suddenly, my brain went to the incident of that day. He killed those five dacoits who kidnapped me. He told me that he would kill the person who ordered them to kidnap me.

If he knew about my father, he would have told me.

That meant he did not know about my father, but he believed that the Sultan of Qamar ordered those dacoits to kidnap me.

But I did not remember him interrogating them that day.

Wait a moment.

There were not just five of them. There were many. And I fell unconscious.

That meant he questioned the others. But how? Where?

Were they captive here?

Any one of them?

If so, he would know about my father because the dacoits mentioned that he wanted me to take to him.

And I just wanted to meet him, know him, and keep him safe.

Because I did not know about it earlier, but now I was sure that he would not leave him alive.

Sighing deeply, I closed my eyes and sat on the chair. I could not help but feel his presence. He was there. This place had the remains of his mild fragrance. I could recognize it anywhere.

My fingers pressed against the Qamar Sultanate.

If there would be war, there would be lives at stake. And, as much as I was worried about my father, a part of me felt afraid of him as well.

I knew he did not love me. He lied to me. But, still, he saved me when I needed him the most. He married me. He had always protected me. I could not overlook it. However, his intentions were still not clear to me.

I did not know if not for love, why the hell did he marry me?

And it did not seem practical for a Sultan who had everything to marry an illegitimate girl with nothing just to redeem the guilt.

I arched my head back against the chair.

Nothing was making sense.

What the hell had I gotten myself into?

I came here in the hope of love from my Jaan-e-Jahan. But it seems like he was not my Jaan-e-Jahan. I had married a different person.

I never thought that he would be one killing someone, waging a war, and doing everything I deeply hated and suffered through.

My heart ached just with the mere thought of the amount of blood he must have shed.

Nine wars—he mentioned to me.

He must not have hesitated to kill people.

I have seen him enjoying it. There was not a single sign of hesitation on his face when he pinned that man into the tree trunk just with his sword.

How powerful he was.

I could not believe it.

I thought I had married a simple man with a simple life and struggled with daily wage and laboring.

I did not know I married the man I was running from.

I cursed myself for being born into a royal family throughout my life. People thought that it was an advantage, but it was a curse for me.

My blood, being the mix of royalty and beauty, was chased by many.

That was the reason why my stepmother sold me to the brothels. Because I had been forced almost twice. I had never told anyone about it.

I was a threat to her other daughters. Whoever would come to the place I lived, the Sultans, the Princes, they would see me and offer their hands for marriage with me. My stepmother grew frustrated with it.

And, the only remedy she had was to darken my blood, stamp my beauty with slavery and prostitution so that no man would be fond of me.

But Jaan-e-Jahan came into my life as a survivor. I never told him anything. He never pushed to get it out of me, either. All he asked was that I would be a former family member of the Hamid Sultanate, and that was enough for him.

And, what was enough for me was his gesture of paying the Dua Begum and buying my freedom. A freedom that was labeled as marriage with him.

In those seven years, I thought the moment he would come back to me, my life would be full of happiness.

I would forget everything. I would even forget my father because he was all I needed.

But, as I knew him slowly, my heart was breaking into millions of pieces.

He came out to be Sultan of the Sultanate, which my father had been chasing for over a decade. He came out as the son of the person I hated the most. I expected him to be soft, forgiving, and calm. He was gentle and calm but not forgiving.

And, out of all, I did not expect my father to come back.

But he was back now.

And his life was in danger just because of my husband.

What kind of daughter would I be if I could not save him? If I could not ask my husband to forgive my father for whatever misunderstanding they had between them, what kind of daughter and wife would I be?

Suddenly, a knock on the door brought me out of my chain of thoughts, and I straightened myself to peek through the maze of shelves and say.

"Come in,"

The door pushed open slowly, and my sight fell on Shefali walking in.

"It's time for your lunch, Rehana," she informed, walking towards the way her gaze lowered down to the map. The color of his face faded away, and I could not stop myself from asking.

"You know he is my father, right?"

The words brought the lines of tension and shock on her face.

"Who?" she asked hesitantly, stammering with her words.

"You know," I said, placing my elbows on the edge of the table, and she nodded.

"He told me," she replied and inhaled deeply, lowering my gaze with disbelief.

"He wants you back, Rehana. This place is not good for you. He wants you safe," she said, and I looked up at her, listening to her words.

"What do you mean?" I asked, and she stepped closer to me and shook her head slowly while saying.

"Sultan Rehman is going to kill your father, Sultan Tanriz Khan, and he did not marry you to keep you safe. He married you to reach your father. He will kill him. You have to be by his side. You have to protect him and run from here. This is not your place. Sultan Rehman is a dangerous man. He has been lying to you ever since," she said, and I gulped nervously.

I did not know who was lying to me or not. I did not know whom to believe or not.

But I knew that his intention of killing my father or anyone was absolutely wrong. My father did not do anything to him. Why did he want to kill him?

"I cannot run from here. He is my husband," I tried to say, giving weight to the ultimate reality of our relationship.

Apart from his intentions, he was my husband, and I could not overlook that. I did not know his intentions yet, but he saved me when no one was there.

"Your life is in danger, Rehana. And he is chasing your father. He is deploying his army at the Qamar Sultanate. Your father is there," the moment she finished, my eyes widened with shock.

"What? Abbu is there?" I asked, again wondering if I had heard it right.

"Yes, what are you waiting for?" she asked, and I shook my head.

No, no, no. Running away was not the solution. I had to work on something.

I had to talk to him.

"What are you thinking? Are you thinking of talking to him? Do not be stupid again, Rehana. I know you have waited a long time to live your life with him. But he is not the person you think he is. He is dangerous. And, you know..." she stopped all of a sudden, and I thinned my gaze at her.

"What?" I asked, and she shook her head.

"What?" I asked in a slightly raised voice, and she gulped nervously before replying.

"He has the leader of those dacoits captive in his private cells." her words did not make any sense to me.

"Private cells?" I asked, and she nodded with fear.

"Yes, I do not know where they are, but I have heard that he keeps the dangerous criminals there and interrogates them with chilling methods," she replied, and I felt a chilling shiver running down my spine.

"Chilling methods?" I asked, wondering what it was that was more dangerous than killing.

"Yes, he boils them in boiling water until they die. He cut their body parts slowly, one each day. And, I have heard that he is unforgiving when it comes to crimes," her words made me nauseous, and I could not believe that I had married such a man.

"Rehana, do something. If he can kill your father, you are nothing for him. Maybe he married you just to torture you. Who knows?" she said, and I shook my head.

"No, that's not possible," I replied. He would not torture me. He was not like that. My heart could feel it.

"Are you out of your mind?" she asked with a frightened tone and looked behind at the door.

"Rehana, we do not have much time. I know where your father must be waiting for you. Tell me if you want to see him one last time," her words tightened my chest, and I could not help but rise from the chair and walk out of the library.

How could I run like that?

He would not like it. He would get angry if I did that.

And nothing was feeling right. He was going to the war. Anything could happen to him, and what the hell was I even thinking?

I went back to our chamber and closed the door behind me.

Sitting on the bed, I pulled my knees closer to my chest and put my head down.

"Rehana, you should eat something," Shefali said from outside, and I replied, shaking my head.

"I am not hungry. Leave me alone,"

"But, what would I say to Sultan? He will get angry," she said, and I sighed deeply before laying on the bed.

"Please leave me alone. Tell him I ate if he asks," I replied, breaking into silent cries.

I could not help but keep lying on the bed. My mind wanders into the thousands of directions. My body stayed unmoved, and I did not when I fell asleep.

Darkness surrounded me.

Everything was silent. And, suddenly, the dust storm erupted out of nowhere. My breath hitched as my gaze sharpened to the scene before me.

The darkness subsided, slowly turning into a dusky night or dawn; I could not tell.

Running of horses began to race my heart beats as I stood alone.

I could see the horse's feet, then the legs of the riders on either side of the horses, and then suddenly, I gasped when my sight fell on the swords in their hands.

No, no, no.

They were coming to kill me.

I closed my eyes tightly shut. But I could still see.

What the hell was happening?

And, suddenly my sight on Jaan-e-Jahan, standing alone.

His hands were empty, and his clothes were torn, but he stood tall.

I ran.

Stop.

I screamed.

But the noise stopped.

The sword glistened, and suddenly, I felt a hit.

I panted hard, my eyes opened wide, and I immediately sat up.

That was a nightmare.

A Nightmare!

Pulling the comforters up, I tried to calm myself and then suddenly felt a hand on my arm.

I immediately turned around.

Jaan-e-Jahan was there. For real. It was not the dream.

"This is me," he said, and I palmed my face, panting hard with fear.

"What happened?" he asked, gently pulling me closer to him.

"Rehana," tears came into my eyes.

I could not lose him. He was way too precious for me. However he was, he was still my Jaan-e-Jahan. I would never be able to repay what he did for me.

"Nightmare?" he asked in a slow voice and gently pulled me closer to his chest.

His warmth began to calm my chilly and scared nerves.

Pushing my face into the hem of his neck, I tried to calm my racing heartbeats and uneven breaths.

"Do not go to war, please," I could not stop myself and cried.

He immediately tightened his hands around me and began caressing my back.

"I was just joking. There is no war," he said, kissing my forehead, and I cried even more.

"I know what you are up to. How can you lie to me so easily? Am I nothing to you?" I could not stop asking and pulled my face away from him.

His brows knit in a line, and he replied, shaking his head.

"I can lie so easily because I care about you. You do not have to know the things that will hurt you," he said in a calm and low voice.

I immediately shifted away from him, putting my feet down on the edge of the bed.

"You are not my Jaan-e-Jahan. He would never hurt me like this," I broke into cries and felt him sitting up behind me.

"At least, tell me, what have I done to you? Rehana. Let me know my mistake, please," he asked, and I palmed my face, almost sobbing into cries.

"Please, baby, please. Do not cry like this. It's hurting me," he said, and I shook my head, stepping down and walking from him.

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