With morning came the unshakable feeling that had followed Joya throughout the night.
A feeling she was yet to understand but was undeniably there. Nevertheless, she felt herself drawn towards the morning sun and made an effort to step out early while Slaver's Bay was still in a hush.
She watched the sun rise slowly from the east, bringing with it its glorious rays.
She stood at the pinnacle of the slaver's bay, her hands clasped in front of her, as she nurtured her every thought.
Her eyes were fixed on the gate below, while her mind spiraled within, through a labyrinth of thoughts that had kept her awake all night.
Plans, fears, and a thousand "what ifs" twisted together.
However, her mind had already been made up, far from what she had wanted initially.
"Are you ready?"
The voice came from behind her, familiar and low, sending a slight shiver down her spine.
Before she could turn, a hand encircled her waist, pulling her towards a body that smelt like spice.
She didn't speak, didn't move, and only let the presence anchor her, while her gaze remained fixed on the gate.
"Are you ready?" he asked again for the second time, looking down at her.
Joya's eyes flicked toward the gate one last time, lingering on the path below.
"I am," she muttered, then faked a smile as she fixed her gaze on him. He looked every bit handsome; those captivating grey eyes of his still enchanted her.
In perfect unison, they turned away and began making their way toward the darkened corridors of the slaver's bay.
The men in charge of the journey moved with precise urgency, preparing for the long road ahead.
Leather skins filled with water were tied carefully to the sides of the camels, and they too swished faintly with every movement.
Baskets of dried grain, dates, and wrapped loaves were stacked and balanced, secured with rope so they would not spill during the journey.
The camels shifted under the growing weight, their long necks swaying as the men tightened knots and checked straps twice over.
There were three camels in all, their backs heavy with waterskins and baskets that would last throughout the journey ahead.
The men had just finished their work when they turned, drawn by the sound of footsteps on the sand.
The high-ranked officer, Prator, was making his way toward them, his bearing unmistakably noticeable from a distance.
Beside him was his woman, Joya, close enough that her presence seemed intentional.
She moved gracefully, her gaze steady as it swept over the camels and the men alike.
Joya was draped in a blue hijab, carefully wrapped around her hair and drawn over her nose, almost like a veil shaped into a mask.
It concealed her features, leaving only her eyes exposed.
Those doe blue eyes had a striking likeness to it, framed by long, dark lashes that drew attention without effort.
Beneath the blue folds, she wore a black gown that fell in long, modest lines, its sleeves covering her arms completely.
The dark fabric complemented the slender golden bracelet resting against her wrist, catching the light whenever she moved.
She looked every bit like an Arabian princess, wrapped in mystery and authority.
When Prator reached where the men stood, he began to converse with them in a foreign tongue.
The words rolled easily from his mouth, unfamiliar to an outsider's ear.
Yet it was not truly foreign; it was the local language of Hamstung, common among the people who lived and traded there.
Joya remained silent at his side. Though she understood nothing of what was being said, the sound of the language stirred something faint within her.
It was familiar, achingly so, as though she had heard those same syllables shaped by another mouth long ago.
She could not place where or when, but the recognition lingered, subtle and unsettling, as she listened without a word.
Prator's questions were direct and practical. He gestured toward the camels as he spoke, his gaze moving from the leather water skins to the baskets of food secured at their sides.
He wanted to know if what they carried would be enough to last throughout the journey.
The men answered him with assurance, pointing out each load and explaining how they had measured the distance and planned for delays.
Their voices were filled with conviction and respect, and they were confident in their preparation.
After what felt like an eternity, the exchange finally came to an end. With respectful bows and murmured farewells, the men took their leave, their figures slowly retreating into the distance.
Prator mounted one of the camels with ease, and Joya was helped onto another camel beside him, steady hands guiding her as she adjusted her robes and took her seat.
The last camel was claimed by one of the Prator's men, who climbed onto its back and took hold of the reins.
With all three riders in place, the camels shifted and snorted, ready to move, as the journey ahead finally began.
The journey began in silence.
The Slavers Bay slowly faded behind them, its outlines growing smaller until it was nothing more than a blur against the horizon.
Ahead lay the land beyond the domains, open, unclaimed, and vast.
The desert stretched endlessly before them, with red sand, a hue known to the lands of Hamstung.
It glimmered beneath the sun, unforgiving and bare, offering little comfort or shelter.
The camels moved at a steady pace, their hooves sinking softly into the warm ground as they pressed forward.
A southern wind rose and would not relent.
It tugged at Joya's hijab again and again, pulling insistently at the cloth wrapped around her lower face.
At last, she loosened it, letting the fabric fall away from her nose and mouth. Her lips were revealed, full and cherry-colored, fresh against the harshness of the desert air as the wind continued to play with the blue folds around her head.
"You could have asked for the king's carriage to be sent to convey us directly to the castle."
Joya broke the long silence as she spoke, her voice calm but edged with reproach.
She turned her head toward Prator. One hand remained firmly on the camel's reins, while her eyes searched his face, waiting for an answer.
"The king was generous enough to offer me that honor, but I turned it down."
He replied evenly, his warm gaze shifting to her. He was dressed formally; his uniform sat well on him, tailored and crisp, lending him an air of distinction that set him apart from the rest of his league.
"If I may ask, why?"
Joya's voice came, still resonant.
Her lashes fluttered as grains of sand stirred in the air.
"I wanted to spend some time with you. True, the journey to the castle would have been far quicker in the king's carriage," he said, his voice thoughtful.
"But what memories would we have made, seated side by side behind drawn curtains, removed from the world?"
A small smile found its way to Joya's lips, fleeting but unmistakable.
"I see."
She murmured, turning her face slightly away to hide the smile playing at her lips.
He didn't break his gaze from her; he couldn't.
Not when she looked so strikingly beautiful in the blue hijab and the black gown she was wearing, which seemed to blend with the desert light in a way that seemed almost intentional.
"You would make a fine queen," he commented, his words laced with sincerity.
Then, with a subtle shift, he turned his eyes to the path ahead, guiding his camel.
"Why do you say so?"
She asked, though she didn't spare him a glance; she kept her focus on the stretching desert ahead.
"You have compassion," he replied calmly, his eyes still forward but his words deliberate.
"So much compassion… even for people you barely know. You are ready to undertake this journey to the castle to advocate for their freedom."
His words settled over her profoundly.
They touched something deep within her. Casting a playful glare at her, he asked teasingly,
"Wouldn't you say I would make a fine king?"
Joya's lips pursed into a pout, a faint tremor of amusement betraying her countenance.
"Oh, you will not," she replied, keeping her face serious, though the corners of her eyes hinted otherwise.
"I won't?"
He turned to look at her, the expression on his face changing.
The sight was too much for her; the serious mask she tried to maintain broke, and a soft laugh escaped her lips.
Seeing her so cheerful filled him with warmth. Her smile was beautiful, yes, but it was her laughter that lingered longer, more soothing.
It seemed to reach something deep within him, making the journey feel lighter despite the endless miles ahead.
Days passed, though Joya could not tell how long exactly. What she didn't know was that Prator had deliberately taken a longer route, winding through the desert and over low dunes, just to spend more time with her.
Night fell, and dawn came, the cycle repeating itself.
The camels trudged on, tirelessly, carrying them across the vastness of Hamstung.
On the night of the second day, the distant silhouette of the Imperial Castle finally came into view.
Its towers and walls caught
the pale glow of the moon, casting long shadows that stretched across the market paths.
At last, their long journey had brought them to the heart of power in Hamstung.