1001 Nights with the Lycan King

Chapter 2

We were awoken and pulled out of our beds at dawn. The guards were rounding up all the females, going door to door and physically forcing some of the women, caught hiding, out of their homes.

Asya and I got dressed, guards standing right outside our home waiting impatiently. Resistance was futile. It was only singling you out in their eyes if you fight. One thing a woman didn’t want on today of all days was to attract the attention of the crown. It’s how we’d gotten this far.

“May the spirit of the divine goddess be with you,” my father murmured, placing a kiss on each of our brows.

“See you at sunset Baba,” I assured, giving him one last hug before finally throwing a scarf over my head.

It was another way my sister and I had remained inconspicuous. Dull muted clothes, drab scarves to cover our heads, hunched shoulders. Unlike some who were delusional enough to think they would be the one to change the King, we knew better. Remain as invisible as possible and live to see another day.

By the time we stepped into the opulent courtyard of the palace to meet the Grand Vizier, I was as tightly wound as a snake waiting to strike. All day we’d been dragged from one end of the city to another, only to finally arrive and have our identities verified by the palace workers.

Every fibre of my being wanted to run. I’d stood here twice before at the ages of eighteen and nineteen. When I was twenty, I had fallen extremely ill and had been exempt from this farce. Now I stood here again, hopefully for the last time, at the age of 21. The noose of trepidation around my neck tightening with every second that ticked by.

My eyes flitted to the intricate calligraphy adorning the walls, whispering tales of bygone eras. What would the kings of old say, had their spirits been able to speak to us? Would they not be disgusted, be horrified, that one of them was brutally murdering innocent citizens of the kingdom? And for what? For revenge on a woman he had killed long ago? Why must all women pay for the betrayal of one? Though I could not blame her. Nobody could love someone as evil as the Crimson King.

My eyes darted to the guards stationed along the periphery, their imposing presence a reminder of the gravity of the occasion. They were here to make sure no one ran. Because many had tried. And failed. By now, everyone knew to remain stationary. Younger girls were admonished and guided by those older and much wiser. The first to run was always the one most likely to be picked.

I breathed deeply, trying to ignore the palpable tension rippling throughout the open courtyard. Tall, slender pillars adorned with intricate carvings rose majestically towards the heavens, their marble surfaces gleaming in the soft glow of evening’s twilight. Ornate archways on all four sides, embellished with delicate gold filigree to create a latticework of swirling patterns, caged us in.

In the center of the courtyard stood a magnificent sparkling fountain, the cascading waters creating a soothing melody that echoed through the air. Jets of water danced joyfully from the fountain’s center, propelled upwards in elegant arches before gracefully descending in shimmering curtains. I watched each droplet catch the fading golden and red hues of the setting sun, scattering it in a dazzling display of colors that danced across the clearing, bouncing of the mosaic tiled blue walls.

If this hadn’t been a place where the angel of death walked, I might have enjoyed the beauty surrounding me. I might have admired the clothes of the women standing next to me. Some of us were adorned in our finest attire. But none wore a smile. Some sobbed softly, while others trembled with fear. A few seemed eager yet apprehensive, whispering that just maybe they could be the special one. The anomaly who got to live to see another day. Maybe even be the woman to make the King fall in love.

Fools. Satan cannot love. And our King is satan incarnate.

“Welcome!” The Grand Vizier’s voice boomed as he stepped into the courtyard through a domed archway, his scarlet robes billowing behind him.

I couldn’t help but notice, for the first time, the guards who trailed him. They were dressed in the distinctive garb of the blade-callers, their loose white tunics rippling in the breeze. The white facial covering which draped over their heads and mouth, leaving only the eyes free for sight told me all I needed to know. I wore this same garb, five days a week for my training. It was necessary to learn how to fight in the standard uniform.

My heart sank at the realization that becoming a blade-caller meant working for the Grand Vizier. A man who picked women to be killed like one picked flowers on a cool summer day after the rain. Maybe becoming a blade-caller was not the best course of action for me after all. I’d sooner drive my talwar into the Grand Vizier’s stomach than protect his person.

“You have all been chosen for the great honor of potentially becoming queen of the mighty Kingdom of Elamaria.” The Grand Vizier raised his arms as if in supplication to the divine spirits, his bearded face tilting upwards to look up at the sky painted in the coral hues of twilight.

“King Harun, King of Kings, the master of the desert, the holder of the keys to the kingdom…has expressed a preference for older brides. Ones who can satisfy his…more baser desires…his worldly cravings,” the Grand Vizier settled on saying, eyeing the women before him. “Who will we choose? Who will become the next queen? Possibly the mother of the next King? Who will become Walid Sultan?” the Grand Vizier ended pompously, giving women false hope that they might birth the next heir to the throne.

Walid Sultan: the title given to the mother of the king. She often held more power than even the queen consort herself. Of course people would cower in her presence. But no one would become Walid Sultan. Least of all any of us. Normal peasant girls dragged out of bed at the crack of dawn to be murdered by a mad king. There was a reason it was always us. Never a daughter of the ‘precious’ nobility.

When our king finally satiated his bloodlust for innocent virginal women’s heads on a pike, he would no doubt marry and sire children. They would not be the children of commoners. Baba had told me once that the King planned to take a neighboring kingdom’s widowed queen for a bride eventually. Baba was a recluse, a commoner. But there had been a time where he had worked in the palace. He had been a scribe for the previous King.

I tried to make myself scarce, unconsciously stepping into Asya’s personal bubble.

Asya smiled at me, a reassuring one as if this was all joke.

“You there,” the Grand Vizier barked.

My face paled. His sharp calculating shrewd eyes were on my sister.

“What is your name?” The Grand Vizier’s voice was firm, cutting through the silence like a sharp blade.

“Asya, Your Excellency,” she replied, meeting his gaze without flinching.

Quickly, a scroll was handed to the Vizier. He looked over the contents briefly, before his gaze travelled again to my sister. My hand itched to grab my dagger sheathed and securely hidden in the folds of my clothes. They had searched my person for weapons before entering the palace, but not very thoroughly. After all, who would suspect us poor defenseless women to ever strike out?

“Ahh…daughter of the retired scribe, Idris. Tell me…how is your father?” The Grand Vizier’s tone suddenly became kind, almost parental.

Those scrolls he looked through were brimming with detailed records of our identities.

“He..is well Your Excellency,” Asya murmured demurely. “Though as of late, he is unable to get about due to his advancing age.”

“One would think he’d have the sense to see you married off.”

It was an observation. And a question. I knew the underlying question this man wanted to ask. Why had Idris not married off his beautiful daughter yet to prevent her from being chosen and killed off?

“Is there something wrong with you?”

I cringed. How dare he speak to my sister in such a way! I hated this man more and more. In previous years, he’d barely paid us a cursory glance. The Grand Vizier had always firmly remained fixated on women well over their twentieth year.I gulped audibly. Asya and I both fell into that category now.

“My betrothed is a silk trader. His caravan has been delayed due to the sandstorms. Once he returns from his trading expedition, we plan to marry. “

“Unless you become the King’s new bride,” the grand Vizier corrected, a snake-like smile marring his features.

There was nothing paternal about him any longer.

“Hobbies?” His question was abrupt, demanding a quick response.

Asya hesitated for a moment, gathering her thoughts before replying, “I enjoy reading, Your Excellency, and practicing archery.”

I couldn’t help but puff my chest out a little proudly. If I was deadly with a sword, my sister was absolutely lethal with a bow and arrow.

The Grand Vizier’s sharp eyes narrowed slightly, as if assessing her sincerity. “Can you play any musical instruments?”

Asya shook her head slightly, “No, Your Excellency. My talents lie elsewhere.”

The Grand Vizier’s expression remained inscrutable as he nodded, filing away her responses. He finally moved past us, not even glancing my way, and we both let out a collective sigh of relief. Asya looked at me as if to say ‘I told you all would be well’. The Grand Vizier strode down the lines of girls, asking questions and going over their respective scrolls to verify names as well as parentage.

I was impatient to return home, knowing that until we were safely under Baba’s roof, we could not truly believe all was well. My eyes trailed the Grand Vizier as he finally made his way back to the entrance of the courtyard. I bunched my eyebrows together in confusion. He had not chosen a bride yet. The man seemed to pace the length of the floor before us, deep in thought before finally looking up. His eyes landed on Asya.

“Asya, daughter of Idris! “ his voice echoed with authority. “You have been chosen to be the next Queen of Elamaria.”

My breath caught in my throat as his words sank in. Chosen? The realization hit me like a thunderbolt, sending a shiver down my spine. Chosen to be the bride of the king; chosen to die.

Asya’s expression was a mix of surprise and great heartbreak. I could not let this happen to her. She deserved more than this. The one who’d always looked after me. The one who had managed to care for Baba and I after mother passed away when I was 18.

She loved Salim. Her marriage was supposed to be the happiest day of her life. Resolve and bitter regret hardened my beautiful older sister’s face. I watched her exhale deeply. Her chin tilted upwards, evidence that she’d accepted her fate. When Asya took a step out of line, I placed my hand on her arm to restrain her, pushing her back into the row. No. Not her. Never her.

“What are you doing Amara? I cannot defy an order of the Vizier,” Asya whispered. “He will punish all of us. You know this.”

“No.” It was one word. One word spoken from my lips that sealed my fate.

There were surprised whispers amongst the crowd. Everyone was wondering if I had lost my senses.

“No?” The Grand Vizier repeated, a beguiling smile painting his features as he took in our uncanny resemblance. Asya might be the prettier sister, but we still looked quite alike. “My dear girl…are you refusing to let your sister abide a royal edict? It is tantamount to treason ...foolish girl.”

Asya tried to shrug my hand off her arm. I deftly moved in front of her, walking purposefully towards the front of the gathering. All eyes were on me as a lump of dread slowly settled into the pit of my stomach. However, not once did I hesitate. For I knew with acute clarity that this was what must be done.

Standing before the imposing figure of the Grand Vizier in the resplendent courtyard where long ago the Kings of old had frolicked with their children, I squared my shoulders as I met death head-on. Determination burning bright within me, my gaze met his disdainful one. This man was odious. I’d gladly become queen for even one night if it meant I could get rid of him. The idea burned itself into my brain with the intensity of the blazing sun on a hot summer’s day. The vindictive thought evolved until a clear and very concise one burst forth. It settled at the forefront of all my thoughts. I could rid our Kingdom of this plague. Of this evil.

“Well girl? Are you going to just mutely stare at me until I order your beheading?” snapped the grand vizier after reviewing the scroll that held vital information regarding my person.

His presence demanded respect, but I refused to cower before him.

“Do you not fear the repercussions of your defiance?” He took in my form loftily, probably trying to decide the worst possible punishment to bring about a slow painful death for my insolence.

I met his gaze without flinching, my resolve unshakable. “I fear nothing,” I declared, my voice ringing with conviction. “My sister... she deserves an opportunity for happiness. She cannot marry the king.”

The Grand Vizier looked at me before his eyes flickered to Asya who, by now, stood right behind me. I didn’t have to look to know she was probably begging this bag of bones for mercy with her eyes. Mercy for me. For Baba. She’d gladly die a thousand times over if it meant we would be safe. So like Asya to always worry about us and never about herself.

“It has been done and there is nothing you can do to revert the order. She will be our new queen by this time tomorrow. The kingdom requires a queen.”

“You will have your queen,” I hissed, balling my hands by my sides. “I volunteer in my sister’s stead.”

The hushed voices around us rose in a crescendo so great, I might have been swept away but its tide had the Vizier not raised his hand to silence everyone. I could see the confusion, the shock playing across his features. Never had a woman volunteered to die. Until me. He did not know what to do.

“You…would give yourself…in her stead?”

I inclined my head, hoping this odious man would agree, hoping my sister would stop trying to pull me behind her. I may have been younger, but my body had been honed through countless hours of wielding a talwar, imbibed with strength through strenuous activity which hers had not endured. She had the upper-body strength of an archer, but I had the might of a warrior. She was never a match for me in hand-to-hand combat.

“I would.”

“NO AMARA!” Asya cried out, falling to her knees. She shook her head, worry for me consuming her. “You can’t.”

I refrained from turning to look at her because I knew that if I had, I would have collapsed beside her. Now was not the time to show weakness.

The Grand Vizier’s expression softened, a hint of respect shining in his eyes. “Your loyalty to your sister is commendable,” he conceded, “but I cannot accept your offer. Your skills as a blade-caller are too vital to the kingdom. The kingdom needs your skills.”

A breath escaped my lips, a fire ignited in my soul.

“Your Excellency,” I clipped out, eyes slanting in consternation. “I can assure you, if I am not chosen….a blade in my hand is the last thing the royal crown would benefit from.”

For I would surely drive it into your king’s heart.

The unspoken threat was not lost on anyone

Horrified exclamations reached my ears. The warriors standing guard across the expanse of the courtyard tensed, as if preparing for me to attack.

The Grand Vizier turned an unsightly shade of purple over the implications of my words. I had just threatened the crown.

“I could sentence you to death for such-such-blatantly treasonous thoughts!” He spluttered out, left eye twitching as a vein throbbed in his temple.

The man looked as if he would be physically ill. No one had ever outright spoken this way to him. It was treason, punishable by death.

“Or you could choose me to be the next bride. The end result would be the exact one you desire, I can assure you.” I looked at him coolly, my knees threatening to give way as my voice held firm.

Like a lone traveler in the vast desert, never divulge your fear to your adversary, for in doing so, you lay bare the oasis of your vulnerabilities amidst the arid expanse, leaving yourself susceptible to their predatory gaze.

Ashad’s words rung true in my mind, as if he was here whispering them to me in my ear. He’d spoken those words to me long ago, as he taught me how to wield a blade. My dearest friend…Oh Ashad, forgive me for what I have done.

The imperceptible nod of the Vizier was all it took. Maids dressed in fine silk with gossamer veils covering their faces emerged like glimmers of light to whisk me away from the courtyard’s ornate confines.

A bargain had been made. My life for the safety of Asya’s. I smiled grimly to myself. Never underestimate a warrior.

For concealed within the sanctuary of my garments, my dagger lay nestled, a silent sentinel ready to be unsheathed in the pursuit of justice. With unwavering resolve, I vowed to become the harbinger of liberation, to cast aside the shackles of tyranny and reclaim the safety of our people from the grip of this murderous king. My life was forfeit regardless. I would go down fighting.

With a resolute click, the brass doors sealed shut behind me, muffling Asya’s fervent pleas for my release.