When Roshanak reached her room, the Shah was already waiting.

He had not noticed her coming. Sikander was busy looking at the stars from the balcony, his hands crossed at the back. The blobs of light on the obsidian sky twinkled, much like his eyes from the day when they had first met. Roshanak saw him pointing to the stars and murmuring. Was he trying to count how many were there? It was a silly idea, but a good one for passing time.

She didn't want to speak first. She didn't even want to be here. Yet, she had to alert him of her presence. So, Roshanak decided to clank her feet harder on the tiles for the anklets to chime louder. It worked– the Shah turned back. A smile lit up his youthful face.

"Roshanak," he felt the name dance on his lips. "Roshanak."

She bowed to him. "Glory to the Shah."

His face darkened. Roshanak saw him clenching his fist. She stood frozen, waiting for his any command.

"Let us sit. It has been a long and tiring day. I don't really wake up so early unless it's war."

His words were like a thunderstorm to Roshanak's ears. In a way she was happy to know that kings loved to sleep late and relax. Again, she was worried if he considered this marriage a conquest. Maybe it was a conquest indeed.

Together, they sat on the bed. Silence was such a horrible thing to exist between a newly married couple. Roshanak dreaded it as much as rushed kisses. She had expected the Shah to be a little more friendlier.

"I am used to sleeping late too," she said. The words just came out her mouth, careless enough to tamper with a first impression.

But she had already projected hers in the garden back that day during twilight.

"Do you...know about Persia?" he asked.

"I do."

"It's a beautiful place. I wasn't born there. I am from Macedonia, actually. But I fell in love with Persia and now live there only."

There was a childish wonder in his eyes when he spoke of Persia. Roshanak had seen kings kill and eradicate, shout orders and snap heads. This Shah no doubt had that side, but it bewildered her to know he had another side too.

"There are nice gardens in Persia," he said. "Like the ones built by the great king of its history, Nebuchadnezzar. Back in Macedonia we don't have such wondrous things. Even here, in your kingdom, I find the land mostly dull, except the garden of yours, of course."

"My father made it for me."

"Oh, yes, yes. He seemed to be very protective of you."

Roshanak's skin burnt and sizzled. This was the same man speaking who had destroyed her life in a day. She would be scared to sleep late because of him. He was to be blamed for her new phobia.

The Shah must have sensed her quietened anger. He pursed his lips and his furrowed brows bent in a curve. "You are a warrior's daughter," he said, as if to remind her that she should have expected this to happen in her life. A warrior's life was filled with blood and gore, and as a child of one, hers was going to be equally gruesome.

She didn't know what to talk about. But again, he couldn't stretch the conversation on his own. At this point, Roshanak was wary of being suddenly pushed to the bed. As a woman she served no purpose of intelligent conversation or any entertainment, so maybe her body could be made to some use. He married her for her splendour and innocent allure. She was in his eyes an enchantress.

"I think, there's no need to beat around the bush. You seem uninterested in cooling the tension." The natural warmth of his eyes shot splinters of ice. "You are a beautiful woman, Roshanak, and as the Shah of Persia, I concluded it was best for me to own you. You are a woman and I am a man, and someday I had to marry someone, so I chose you."

Roshanak simultaneously felt a weight leave her shoulder and a knot form in her stomach. He chose the truth. It was the right decision, in her perspective, to spill what was reality. One could not stay happy for long in a bubble of illusion. She knew he was marrying out of a raw, feral attraction and not love, and he made it clear.

"Although, I find it necessary to mention that I have seen many beautiful women. They excel each other in skills hard to find. Each is supreme in their own way. Yet, I didn't choose them, because sometimes families and lineage don't matter as much as the strength of character does."

Roshanak turned her head towards him out of curiosity.

"I was moved by your words in the garden that day. I was just taking a stroll and comparing the garden to the ones I have in Persia. It was a very unexpected meeting, and it changed my life. For long I was in need of a wife and after hearing you, I felt that you would be the one."

And so you married me in haste, before anybody could. You married me because you need a perfect wife, not love.

"Roshanak?"

"I-I am sorry, Shah," she apologised. "I am listening."

"I find this to be an advantageous match. I would, still, like to warn you about the disappointment of many, who desired for me to marry a woman of a reputed Macedonian descent. You will be appreciated by the people of Persia, but not by the ones who have known me since infancy."

"I will try to win their hearts."

"Try is not a word suitable for a warrior's daughter. Now you are also the Shahamsaram. You must." His sudden mirthless chuckle made her wince. "There are far more cruel things that exist in the world, Roshanak. Pain is not something I am unfamiliar with, and from this night onwards it's going to be your companion too."

Roshanak nodded. "I understand."

"You speak very less. I hope you will converse more over time. Or else it's going to be tough for us."

You pushed me in this. "It will take time. Gradually I will settle it."

"Alas, some things need to be done now, and I cannot grant you the time to adjust."

Roshanak knew instantly what he was referring to. Her smile was melancholic. "I understand."

"You are a beautiful woman, Roshanak. And it's easy to give in to the carnal desire. It won't be troubling me." He got up and poured wine into two chalices. "I brought this especially for tonight. Drink it."

She took the chalice. The smell of the wine was strong and bitter. It swirled like the blood of the dead soldiers.

Like Kazu.

Needles pricked the back of her head. A sheen of tears veiled her eyes.

The Shah took a sip and scrunched his nose. "It is disgusting in taste, but drink it. This is going to help us. The marriage must be consummated or else the gods will be displeased."

Roshanak could have thwarted his attempts to bed her in an alternate universe. But now, not only was she under his control and depended on him, but she was also the Queen of Persia.

"We cannot allow the gods to be let down," he whispered. His inebriated breath tickled her face. Her vision became hazy, and her mind was blank. It was the wine working.

She knew he was kissing and undressing her, but she felt nothing. Maybe his moves were lifeless too. It was beauty that he searched and she had it all, albeit he didn't have the lovely comfort women sought after. But did any girl get what she ever wished for? Perhaps they were forced to adapt to the surroundings. It was said to be their duty to fit in and endure.

Sikdaner was no home. Her home was dead. And she too, wasn't his home.

Roshanak didn't dare to think too deeply about whatever was happening to her.

****

Roshanak woke up early, just like a princess. Rather, a queen, who would have to do her daily duties. Surprisingly, the self-proclaimed late riser Shah Sikander was nowhere to be seen.

Roshanak found herself covered in a warm blanket. Someone had folded her garments and kept it in a neat manner on the bed. Whether it was a servant or the Shah, she didn't know. Probably it was the Shah, because no servant would enter at this time.

She got into her clothes and combed her hair. Looking at her reflection, she found heavy bags under her eyes. They could do little damage to her gorgeous skin, but she was anxious if the Shah would be upset to find her unadorned. She went back to her bed, sitting and pondering about everything that transformed her life. Lost in thoughts and staring at the bedsheets, she was oblivious and didn't initially realise that something was odd about it. It hit her, then.

The linen was as clear as a sunny day.

"A new morning, Roshanak."

She would have been happier to hear the voice of the Shah now, but it was his mother, Kandake Odile. She was carrying a fresh set of clothes. "You will go to your bath and change. We are going to eat with your family and discuss a few topics over food."

Roshanak frantically searched for a dagger around. If only she could cut her finger a little and sprinkle some blood on the bed...

"You didn't hear me?"

"I-I will go at once."

Odile handed her the robes and waved her hands dismissively, as if demanding Roshanak to leave her own room.

She could not bathe in peace. She had heard her whole life that a woman, pure and chaste, would definitely bleed on her wedding night. It was as obvious as sunset and sunrise. Roshanak might have loved Kazu, but he didn't ever touch her against her permission, and never did they make love. Did the Shah even consummate the marriage? Memories of the last night were a blur. There was an uncomfortable sensation between her legs earlier, after waking up, so she presumed he had. Why didn't then she bleed?

Roshanak hurried to her room after the bath. When she reached, servants were tidying up the room. It shocked her to see that now there were faint spots of blood on the bed. The servants greeted her when she came. Not knowing if it was her delusion or the truth, she quickly got to embellishing herself and preparing for the morning meal. The servants left after their work was done. It was when Odile came again.

This time, the wrinkles on the woman's forehead gave away her wrath.

"Did you even sleep with the Shah last night?"

Roshanak didn't want to tell her about the wine. "I-I did."

"Hesitation." She grunted. "Did you sleep with a man before your marriage?"

Roshanak turned red. Fumes came out of her hot ears. "No," she declared. "I am a former princess. I wasn't taught to recklessly mix with men."

Odile rolled her eyes. "Are you sure?"

"I know my body. It's my own." Roshanak wore a disgruntled frown. "I know I have given it first to the Shah. Women of my kind wait for our husbands."

"Do you mean women of my kind don't?"

"I am a part of your family now. We belong to the same," she retorted, breathing heavily.

Odile's shoulders slumped. "I just want you to be honest."

"I am being honest, my Kandake. The Shah is the first man I slept with."

"Very well." She blew a breath and shrugged. "I believe you."

Odile inspected the room, throwing judgemental glances at the curtains and sniffing the potted flowers. Roshanak felt so ashamed of her body. It had betrayed her.

But then, how did the blood appear after she returned from the bath?

Guiding her towards the answer, her eyes fell on the thumb of the Kandake. She remembered clearly it being healthy when the Kandake had come before the bath. Now, it was bandaged.

"Your flowers are pretty good. I need some seeds. Where can I find them?" Odile asked.

Roshanak's eyes were caught on the thumb.

"Roshanak," Odile raised her voice. "Do you daydream so much? This is bad–" She paused, following Roshanak's gaze. The latter pointed at her thumb. Her demeanor softened. "I didn't bleed too my first time, although I was a virgin. But I wasn't a fool like you. I used a knife, drew a tiny slit and let the blood satiate the lust of traditional men. The servants gossiped so much about it. I had accidentally poured an exaggerated amount of blood. It just made them regard me as a goddess."

Roshanak's cheeks crimsoned. "I-I see."

"As a woman, you need to know the tactics." Odile raised a brow. "Haven't you been taught?"

"I will learn."

Odile scoffed. "Better make haste. Persia isn't going to wait for you." Swaying her hips, she left the room with an air of attitude.

Roshanak rubbed her chin. "The Shah's mother is interesting."

****

word count: 2220 words

Whew. Some interesting men and women in the Shah's family.

What are you views about Sikander and Odile?