Away from prying eyes and the uncanny silence of the palace, two lovers, each mounted on a horse, strove towards the forest. They had no one accompanying them, except each other's presence and the subtle call of nature humming.

"It's calming here. Just you and me," Shahryar said. Squirrel scurried on either side of the narrow road lined by bushes. Wildflowers dipped in the seven shades of rainbow peeked from the green. Some loitered around on the path, their juices pressed by the hooves of the horses. Golden sunlight filtered through the mesh of leaves and branches.

"Just you, me and the one above," Shahrazad whispered. "The Divine is a witness to this moment too."

Green was such a beautiful colour, Shahryar understood it now. He had left his royal garden in ruins. The red of roses reminded him of both blood and love, and neither could soothe his soul in the past. Flowers– their fragility and their softness– served as a reminder of his own weak heart that was prone to defeat. He had thus, for years, protected it in an armour of cruelest and most insensitive metals extracted from the mastery of feigning ignorance and the ability to endure every pain. He had lived like a half-dead man surrounded perpetually by the stench of death. So many maidens came and went, none lived.

"I wonder sometimes, if any maiden had survived, would she have been able to melt my heart?"

"Maybe she would have, Shah."

"Tut-tut," Shahryar clicked his tongue. "Do not call me that when we are alone. I am supposed to call you Shah, don't you remember?"

Shahrazad chuckled. The kitten was out of the bag now. "Seeing this ethereal beauty of nature, I think you are convinced that you have committed a crime by neglecting the garden in the palace."

"I have."

"So will you take care of it now?"

"I shall appoint some gardeners. I remember that you liked dahlias a lot?"

Shahrazad raised a brow, amused at the discovery of him guarding such a little memory. "You remember?"

"Yes. I had made Mother sew a garland just for you. She was so eager to meet this so very special friend of mine."

Shahryar kept his gaze pointed at Shahrazad. The latter acted being absorbed in admiring the sight of chirping sparrows and the call of the eagle soaring high in the sky. A doe sprinted past them, heading towards the north.

"I think the pond is in that direction where the doe went," Shahrazad said.

"I had thought you would tell me something else," Shahryar said with a disappointed curve to his lips. The stoic man led his horse forward, leaving poor Shahrazad behind. The royal consort caught up with his husband soon, finding him exactly as he had predicted– near the pond. Shahryar tied his horse to a tree. He patted the majestic animal and spoke to it like an old friend. Shahrazad kept his horse beside this one and then followed Shahryar, who was headed towards the shore of the pond. The two men sat on the grassy bed.

"We have so much to talk on," Shahrazad said with a longing gaze. "So much to remember too. We have left the story incomplete."

"Some stories remain forever. They never end. It's like a spiral into the abyss."

Shahrazad's fingers, with gentle precaution, crawled towards the palm of Shahryar. Treating it like the wings of a butterfly, he placed his palm carefully over that of Shahryar. He pressed it ever so lightly, then drew circles with his thumb. Shahryar grew even more hungry. The feathery touches wouldn't ease him, so he grasped Shahrazad's palm.

"Entwined like our lives," Shahrazad said. "You had to return."

"I knew I had to. I was just waiting for the perfect time."

Shahrazad smiled. Sometimes the silence wasn't disturbing at all. It was, instead, very reassuring. It came with the news of loyalty and everlasting promises. Things were not always meant to be explained and detailed. Some things, as this moment, where only meant to be felt.

"I looked like my mother, they said." Shahrazad heaved a sigh, looking at the flock of birds flying in the azure. He wished he remembered the moments spent in her womb playing and talking. He wished he remembered the first moment when she had held him. But memories faded away as nature willed. "Baba, I mean Bagaos, took me in just after Mother gave birth to me. She couldn't have kept me secure. If my father had found out I was alive, he would have plotted to kill me. And to kill the baby of a minor dancer wasn't a big deal. So I was immediately given to Baba."

"My father, the late King Damun, did he know this?"

"He did. He knew who my father was but couldn't take a step because of the overall welfare of the kingdom. The man was too powerful and had to be kept in hand. So King Damun banished my mother."

"Then why did he allow you to come to the palace?"

Shahrazad smirked. "Due to obvious reasons, my identity had to be kept hidden. So I never shared who my father was, neither shared my name. I couldn't understand it initially. It took me years, after I left the palace."

"But you know it now, do you?"

"I can feel."

"What is it?"

"Your father had got an enchanted fan, said to be a blessing of Mah. He had given it to my father, asking him to gift it to me when I came of age. It was that fan which slowly revealed who I was meant to be. After I received that fan, I used to get dreams every night. Dreams of you, of the palace, of the future. Even of mother..."

"Of me?"

"Yes. I saw many things. I wasn't in the palace but I had the taste of what was happening. Many vile truths came up, and I slowly understood that Baba wasn't my real father. That was one hard day. I still remember how much I was crying. It lasted for days."

"But Bagaos loved you as his own. He filled your pot of sorrows with joy and care."

"Overflowing, I should say. The storm went away and left me a rainbow. I started loving father more after knowing this truth. However, Baba never allowed me to meet my mother. He actually never allowed me to step out of the house! I was rebellious about it first, but ultimately I gave up."

"You never left your mansion?"

"Never. In fact, no one knew I was alive. It came as a shock to many people that Baba had a son when I married you." Shahrazad's mirthless laugh echoed in the forest. "Till then I was just caged in the mansion with no friends– just my family, my fan, and dreams to live with."

"The fan gives you supernatural powers."

"Yes. It is a blessing of Mah."

Shahryar's eyes glimmered. "And father gave it to you."

Shahrazad nodded. "You are trying to connect the dots."

"I am. Because there's so much thrill in finding out the truth on my own, discovering it without being told."

"If only you knew who has been playing with your life all these years," Shahrazad scoffed. "It would have been useful."

Shahryar shrivelled up like a nut. He brought his knees closer to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs. "I didn't know whom to not trust. Parmenion and Mahfuzur, Firdaus, they all had been handed to me from Father. I inherited their loyalty. It came as a duty to place my trust on them."

"You were trying to connect the dots of why King Damun had given me the fan. Think, what if my father had got to know the truth behind it?"

"How come is your father–"

"He wouldn't stop, Shahryar," Shahrazad hissed. "He wouldn't stop at nothing. He wants the throne and for that he needs to kill me before I can see the sunrise as a royal consort. And to fulfill this very purpose, he killed every other spouse who came, thinking he eliminated his enemy every time. Alas, I came at the last, and I am still alive."

"We were destined to meet. We were..." Shahryar's gaze got lost in the distance. Neither heard the faint rustle of leaves, them being engrossed in emotions.

"He cannot kill a Shah, Shahrazad. He should know that. Whether it's you or me. You are Shah too. I have given you the name."

Shahrazad clenched his fist. "Bu-but they killed my mother." His eyes reddened, tears barging in the socket of beautiful irises. "She lived in a safe harbour as long as Great Damun was in power. However, when your father became senile, power transferred from the king to him. And he killed mother."

Shahryar had been intently listening to each and every word of Shahrazad until now. He played in his head every instance, every event that had occured after he had become the Shah– the death of the maidens, the arrival of Shahrazad, his survival, and everything. The dance especially pointed to a very specific person.

And if there was someone to whom the power had transferred from his father before it came to him, was only one man.

In the heat of the moment Shahryar threw his arms around Shahrazad, enveloping him in an embrace. Tears spilled from the eyes of the royal consort as both were pushed to the ground. Alas, unseen to both of them, an arrow was heading towards Shahrazad. But Shahryar having interrupted at the very fortunate, or rather unfortunate time, the arrow slipped past, grazing the skin of Shahryar and landing far away from them.

Shahrazad's eyes widened while Shahryar's facial muscles scrunched. He let out a yelp and rolled on the floor, clutching his slightly bleeding arm. Even though the Shah had faced injuries far greater, the small cut was proving to be too lethal. Shahrazad took his head on his lap. "Shahryar, what happened to you?"

Shahryar struggled to keep his eyes open. But before succumbing to unconsciousness, he saw a familiar figure rushing at them from the bushes. The man's face was a haze, but shock and bewilderment emanated from his being. There was fear and anger in his eyes, the fear being more. There was fear and anger in Shahrazad's eyes too, but the anger being more.

"We must take him to the palace, immediately!" Parmenion said. Those were the last words Shahryar heard before he knew the answer to the very ugly mystery of the palace.

****

Shahryar had vomited thrice after returning to the palace. The doctor had taken some drops of his blood and tested them to find traces of a deadly poison. The antidote caused him to throw up. The well-wishers prayed for the poison to be out.

"It's very little since the arrow just touched his skin, but enough to harm still. Thank Mah the arrow didn't pierce his heart. He would have otherwise died then and there."

The doctor instructed Shahrazad about the medicines his Shah had to take. He assured that he would be better in a day or two, but he had to avoid meat in his diet. The area on the arm where the arrow had touched was now swollen and red.

Parmenion and the five melophoroi stood with red-shamed faces and heads hung low. Parmenion's gaze flickered up to Shahrazad then and now, always ending up getting engaged in a battle of glare.

"I shall not hide it. I was hunting. I noticed some movement behind the bushes and thus shot the arrow." Parmenion pursed his lips and wiped his eyes. "I never knew–"

Shahryar raised his hand. "Al-lone."

"Yes?"

Shahryar's gut twisted like a snake trying to catch its tail. "Alone."

"Do you wish to be alone?" Shahrazad asked. Shahryar batted his eyelashes slowly, expressing his approval.

"You have heard. The Shah wishes to be alone."

"Then the Shahamsar-am must leave with us too," Mahfuzur commented.

To this, Shahryar gripped Shahrazad's hand and placed it over his chest. He held it firmly, like a lion protecting its territory. The melophoroi quietened and one by one, all left the room. Except Parmenion.

"My Shah, I was–"

Shahryar narrowed his eyes. The stance was enough. Parmenion heaved a sigh and left.

Shahrazad placed a kiss over Shahryar's forehead. It brought a smile to the latter's face.

"Shah, I must–"

"Hush," Shahrazad put his finger over Shahryar's lips. "Do not speak."

Shahrazad helped Shahryar sit up. "But I-I must."

"You do not need to. I can already read your mind. I know you are aware of the truth now."

Shahryar shut his eyes. "Pain," his voice came out hoarse and rough, "is what I have received. He wanted to kill you, but I came in between. Now he is afraid he will get the curse of Khorshed if I die."

"You won't die. You aren't a coward to flee from the battlefield! You will live." And if someone has to die, it will be me.

Shahrazad recalled the day he had first come here– back as a kid– and then again as a grown up, with a proposal for marriage. Shahryar could have very well denied the union but he hadn't. They were together now, even if for a very little time. Their love, just getting to taste its fruits, had to see the tree being subjected to a merciless tempest.

The skies had darkened with gray clouds and a morose shade of dull black like soot. Shahrazad got up and shut the windows. Indeed, a storm was to come.

"Shahryar, I have a plan."

Shahrazad went and sat beside him, taking up his hand and kissing his knuckles. "You have to trust me and do what I say."

"I will. It's a promise. And like you kept your promise of returning, I will keep this promise too."

A crack appeared in the colourful glass of the window. The gale howled, banging like a maddened deluge. 

The end was near.