2 - Nasrin
1563 Words
2
Nasrin
I held my breath when the smoke of the hookah flew past me, the old Sheikh and my father, Hamid Elbaz, who was the old Sultan of Maahnoor, laughing together.
The stench of the old smoke overpowered the musky jasmine perfume I had donned moments ago. I wanted to leave. My body coiling tightly, my spine straight and tense, I felt sick. Swallowing, I tried to control the bile in my throat that was threatening to pour out.
Seeing what I had for lunch would hopefully make him disgusted enough to take back his offer of proposal.
“How old did you say she is again?” The old Sheikh hoarsely asked, coughing as he rested his palm on his belly. His two wives were seated beside him, a veil covering their faces as they sat frozen.
I pitied them. I truly did. Because if my father dared to accept the proposal of the Sheikh, I would do anything to not end up like them.
“I am twenty-six,” I said, meeting his stare and not daring to look away even when his eyes glazed, looking at me. My body.
Sheikh grumbled, “That’s not too young, is it? But she looks old enough to be my daughter, so that’s—”
Imran Elbaz, my younger brother, cleared his throat, gaining his attention. I sighed in relief when he asked him a question regarding his city. Sadiq Elbaz, my eldest brother and the current Sultan of Maahnoor, shook his head at us, his eyes sharp and cold.
I looked away, feeling helpless and sad. I hated the feeling. I wished my mother were with me, holding my hand and telling my father to reject the Sheikh’s offer. That I deserved better than the sixty-something old sheikh who was only interested in my body. But cancer had taken her away from me when I was nine. She would never be back.
A small part of my cheerful brothers left with her, and the father who used to smile at me, who’d bring me a jasmine flower every morning.
It took her so far that I was alone in the palace that was supposed to be my home, but never felt like it. My sanctuary, surrounded by the people who didn’t feel like my family anymore. I missed my brothers, my father, and especially my mother.
“I would need to talk to my daughter before we accept the proposal,” my father said, giving me a forced smile, but I won’t meet his eyes. He knew I would rather rot than marry the Sheikh.
“I have heard she has rejected every proposal for marriage,” the old Sheikh replied, scoffing at me. “So proud at her age, don’t you think?”
I wondered how sharp the edge of the fruit knife was. How would it feel to hear him squeal with fear if I held it against his neck?
Clenching my hands, I thought about my mother, my master’s degree that was laying on my dresser, my future of working with animals and helping them.
“I am not accepting your marriage proposal.” Standing up, I stared down at the Sheikh, his guards taking a step closer. “I have heard that you still take dowries from your wife’s family. That is illegal, isn’t it?” I enjoyed the way color leached from his face. I smiled. “Don’t make me file a complaint towards you to the council, Sheikh. I have heard that they publicly execute the people who still follow that practice.”
“Nasrin Elba—”
My father’s shout was muffled as I grinned, walking out of the study, my body lighter than before, my muscles relaxing. The citrus scent was tinged in the air, sunlight streaming through the dusky pillars of the old palace. I wished my father or brother would take better care of it. The paint was fading and the once beautiful intricate designs were getting covered in dust.
Sighing, I made my way to my room, the simple white-washed walls, curtains, dresser and a four-poster bed. I missed my dorm room from university. It had more liveliness to it than the boring room I had grown up in.
“You should have at least tried to accept his proposal, Nasrin.”
I rolled my eyes when Sadiq followed me. “I will say the same thing when an old queen asks for your hand in marriage, Sadiq.”
“He is not that old.”
I turned around and gave him a look. His aquiline nose flared, his cheekbones high, similar to mine. Even our golden-brown eyes were the same. I hated how many similarities we had because it reminded me of our mother.
“If you would marry him, then Maahnoor can import better vegetables and fruits from his city,” he said, following me in my room, watching me remove the jewelry.
“If you wanted that to happen, Sadiq,” I said. “Then you should try harder to be a better Sultan.”
Silence fell in the room, and I knew I might have crossed a line, but I wouldn’t back down from stating the truth. He had been crowned as sultan five years ago and our country had made no progress or development as it needed.
“You should think before you speak, Nasrin. You are talking to the Sultan of Maahnoor and as a sultan, I can order you to marry him,” he threatened, his face turning sharp and angry.
My heart hammered in my ears as I looked at him. “I know I buried you with my mother, Sadiq.” He took a sharp breath, his eyes wide as he stared at me.
The door of my room opened and Imran stormed in. “Stop, both of you. Sadiq, we both know we will find a way to import better food to Maahnoor in some way or another. But it won’t happen by selling our sister to that old reek. Not when I am still alive.”
I held my breath when they stared down at each other. Despite being three years younger than me, they both had the same height. I loved Imran more than Sadiq, but it didn’t mean I wanted them to fight for me. Especially when I had already rejected that sheikh.
“Sadiq, please leave my room. I don’t want to clean either of your blood from my freshly washed sheets,” I said, crossing my arms.
Sadiq looked at me, his jaw clenched as he walked out of my room, bumping his shoulder against Imran. We both sighed when he left the room.
“I am sorry for what happened, Nasrin,” Imran whispered when I loosened my hair from the braid, running my hand through the dark hair.
“What do you mean? You have nothing to apologize for.”
“I know, but I wish I could help you. I know you don’t want to get married yet, Father and Sadiq keep pestering you for it,” he said, his voice soft.
My heart ached hearing him. I chuckled and held his hand. “You are my younger brother, Imran. I have never blamed you for anything. You should stop apologizing for others’ deeds. I wish situations were different but…”
He nodded, his hair falling on his forehead as he swooped me in a hug. I sighed and hugged him back, wishing we had a better familial relationship.
“I know I can’t help you with the proposal, but I have a small gift for you,” he said, pulling away and handing me a piece of paper. I frowned, taking it and reading over it.
“It’s a ticket.”
“Ah, so you can read.”
I pinched his arm and, ignoring his yelp, I said, “Why are you giving me a ticket to Azmia?”
“Because I want you to go have fun? It’s a small gift for graduating with a master’s degree in veterinary science.”
“Aw, come here!” I hugged him again, cherishing the ticket as if it was a prized possession. No one had thought about gifting me anything but him.
“Wait, but why would you give me a ticket to Azmia? Father has a bad relationship with that country,” I pointed out.
He winked at me. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Besides, tomorrow is their princess’s birthday, so everyone will be busy celebrating. You can do whatever you want and have fun. No one will know who you are.”
Imran was right. No one will know me. That I am Nasrin Elbaz, Princess of Maahnoor. I can go out, tour the capital and even spend the night out.
I kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Imran. You are the best brother anyone could ever have.”
“You are exaggerating,” he mumbled, smiling and wiping his cheek when he walked out of my room.
I knew in my heart that he would have been a far better choice as a Sultan of Maahnoor than Sadiq.
Looking down at the ticket, a grin tugged at my lips. I would be someone else for two days and have a taste of whatever freedom I could have.
- Writer
