The black iron gates groaned as they swung open, the metallic echo rolling across the courtyard.
Through the gates, the castle sprawled ahead, its walls towering, its windows glowing faintly with torchlight.
Joya's eyes slowly lifted her gaze, catching the pale moonlight and reflecting it like twin fragments of the night sky.
Her lips moved almost imperceptibly, forming words that sounded like a prayer.
Just staring at the castle stirred memories, painful ones, echoes of a self she had once hated, a version of herself trapped months ago in fear and uncertainty.
With a quiet resolve, she adjusted her hijab, wrapping it around her nose once more like a mask, concealing the flicker of emotion that had crossed her face.
Prator alighted from his camel and helped Joya dismount gracefully from hers.
The camels were led away to be given water before being guided to rest.
They were welcomed by maids in service and were received warmly.
The maids led them through polished corridors and archways until they reached the inner court, a space of grandeur, where visitors were received with warmth and courtesy.
Torches wavered along the walls, casting gentle light over intricately carved pillars, and the soft murmur of servants in the background lent a sense of orderliness.
A jar of wine was brought forward, accompanied by golden cups already filled with the same deep, red liquid. The aroma was rich, earthy, and slightly sweet, hinting at the care with which it had been brewed.
"The king shall see you in a moment," one of the maids announced softly, her voice polite but firm. With a slight bow, she turned and left, leaving them alone in the quiet elegance of the inner court.
"Relieve yourself of the burden of having the hijab wrapped around your face, Joya."
Prator said, shifting his attention to her.
"It is not a burden," she replied with a subtle edge of defensiveness in her words, as she averted her gaze.
Suddenly, he rose to his feet.
Joya's eyes tingled with amusement; she was almost convinced he was about to leave because she had been acting unreasonably enough to warrant it.
But when she lifted her gaze fully, her amusement faltered.
A figure was approaching from ahead.
From what she could make out, a crown glinted faintly in the torchlight, perched on the figure's head.
Her instincts snapped.
She rose to her feet, smoothing the creases on her dress.
"His Royal Majesty, the king of
The royal announcer began his usual proclamation, but Vagor cut him off.
"There will be no need for that, Ferrod. My guests know who I am."
He said calmly, his presence commanding unwavering authority.
"Welcome… to my heavenly abode."
"Vagor," he said, his voice cheerful, carrying a smile that was grand, almost regal, as he crossed the gap between them.
At close range Joya could now make out that the figure was not Orain, but Vagor, his son.
She froze, taken aback by this revelation.
She was so marvelled that she forgot even the simplest courtesy.
Prator had already bowed low, but she remained standing, her eyes locked on Vagor, lost for words.
It was only when Prator gently tugged at her sleeve lightly that she finally curtsied, her breath trembling with the effort to put herself together.
"It is our honor, Your Majesty," Prator said, bowing deeply, humbled by Vagor's presence.
But Vagar's eyes never left the woman beside him.
Everything had been prepared long before their arrival. They were immediately led to the dining hall, where they were to feast.
"Where is the king?" Joya asked softly, her voice barely above a hush as they made their way toward the grand dining hall.
"You have eyes," he replied, still struggling to recover from her earlier embarrassment.
"You can see. He is right in front of you."
"I speak of King Orian," she clarified in a whisper.
Understanding dawned on Vagor; she truly did not know what had happened within the kingdom.
"He is dead," he said plainly.
"His son, Vagor, has succeeded him as king."
Her eyes shrank as it all suddenly began to make complete sense.
Orain was a greedy man. He wouldn't have let the slaves go; they were responsible for the bloom of the trade market. But now that he was dead, his son, who was a more compassionate man, yielded to Prator's offer of shipping them away and allowing them freedom.
Vagor took his seat at the head of the table, followed by Prator, then Joya, who sat beside him, like a harmless lamb.
The table was richly laid out with an array of exotic dishes and more wines; some maids stepped in and began to attend to them.
While the men conversed quietly among themselves, Joya kept her head bent low over her plate, focusing on the food before her.
Since she could not cover the lower part of her face with the linen of her hijab while eating, she did her best to remain bent low, her face fixed on the food.
She ate slowly, almost mechanically, picking at the dishes, her thoughts elsewhere.
The hum of their conversation seemed distant, like it belonged to another world.
Every now and then, her eyes unwittingly moved, catching glimpses of Vagor across the table, but she quickly looked away, returning to her meal as if trying to disappear into the motions of eating.
But what she did not know was that his eyes were on her as well, observing her in silence, but saying nothing at all.
After the meal, Joya rose from the dining table gracefully. Vagor was being attended to, his goblet taken from his hand as his attention drifted elsewhere.
Prator said nothing, only watched her for a brief moment, his expression unreadable.
A maid stepped forward, bowing slightly.
"This way, my lady."
Joya followed her out of the dining hall, the heavy doors closing behind them with a muted thud.
The warmth of the feast faded as they moved through long stone corridors, their footsteps echoing softly against marble floors.
Joya allowed the tip of her finger to brush the walls.
Memories, which she wished she could erase, flooded back into her mind.
The maid stopped before a tall wooden door and pushed it open.
Inside, the room was modest but refined, with fresh linens laid upon the bed, a small table set near the window, and a single lamp illuminating the room.
"This will be your chamber," the maid said gently.
Joya stepped inside, her gaze drifting over the unfamiliar space.
When the door closed behind her, the silence settled in fully, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
Only then did she lift her hands, fingers hesitant, and slowly relieve herself of the hijab wrapped around her nose.
The fabric slipped free, and cool air brushed her skin. She exhaled, a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, and let the cloth rest loosely around her shoulders.
"Do you not like it here?"
A voice from behind startled her. She was forced to turn around, and her eyes fell on Prator.
He was wearing a different outfit, dressed in a nightgown befitting that of royals. He resided at the doorway for a moment before strolling in with big strides.
"I see you have quickly acquainted yourself with the king."
Joya murmurs before turning fully to get a better view of him.
"You do not like it here."
He concluded, and that earned a smile from her.
"I have not said so."
She retorted, before shifting her gaze, her bright eyes roaming around the room and the richness of the glory in it.
"Then why do you behave strangely? Have I offended you in any way?"
He asked, taking her by the arm and drawing her to himself. Her body slammed into his, his breath fanning over her face.
She could hear his heartbeat, and soon their hearts synchronized, beating at the same rhythm.
"What are you doing?"
She whispered, trying to pull back, but he held her in place.
"Claiming what's mine."
He replied, pushing a strand of her hair back, before proceeding to lead her towards the bed where they both sat side by side.
"If something is bothering you, tell me."
He said calmly he wanted nothing but her trust, and he knew he had to earn it.
Joya remained silent for a while. Her eyes were still reflecting the candles that were writhing.
"I like it here…"
She began before turning to face him, her eyes hiding every attempt to expose her real emotions.
"I am not just used to the scenery, but I will adapt."
She said, taking his hand in hers. Their fingers entwined.
The door to the room was wide open.
After Prator had stepped in, he had neglected to shut it.
From outside the chamber, a shadow lurked at the doorway.
Hard blue eyes gleamed in the dimness, a penetrative gaze fixed squarely on the couple within.
"Your face is too serious," Prator said lightly. "Smile a little."
Before Joya could respond, his fingers brushed her sides, then pressed in mercilessly.
She gasped, then fought the laugh that bubbled up her throat, her lips clamped shut in a futile attempt at composure.
It was hopeless.
Her laughter burst free, brightly transforming her face within moments.
"Stop…stop!" she cried between peals of laughter as he tickled her without mercy.
"I might choke. Stop, please; I will choke from laughter!"
He laughed too, utterly absorbed in the sound of her joy.
By the time the figure outside withdrew, a sudden chill crawled down Joya's spine.
Her laughter faltered.
Her head anchored toward the doorway, breath hitching as her eyes locked onto the open space beyond the room.
The doorway stood empty, yet the air felt disturbed, as though someone had just passed through it, leaving something unseen behind.
Her smile faded completely.
For a moment, she could have sworn she felt it, a lingering gaze that was no longer there.
A maid stepped in almost immediately, her presence abrupt, as if she had been waiting just beyond the door.
"Sir, your room is ready," she said, one brow lifting slightly.
Joya's eyes narrowed at once.
"Are we to sleep in different rooms?"
Dissatisfaction threaded every word as she spoke.
Prator rose to his feet while smoothing his tunic.
"The king has shown his generosity by offering us maximum comfort. I cannot refuse him."
Joya nodded slowly, her expression hardening into cold resolve.
"Everything has to be about the king, doesn't it?"
She exhaled heavily, the sigh carrying more than simple frustration.
Prator paused, then turned back to her with a faint, placating smile.
"I will return to you in the morning," he said gently. "After the king has signed the documents, we will leave at once; clearly you do not like it here."
Just as he said that, one eye closed in a quick, teasing wink before he slipped out of the room.
Heat rushed to Joya's cheeks as the door shut softly behind him.
"Then morning should come quickly," she said to herself.