Chapter 7 Seven
On my wedding day, I wore the color of war, not virginity. A deep, blood red silk that whispered when I walked. No white. No gold. No false purity. Let them talk. Let them gasp. My mother had wept when she saw it, but her tears were old news to me now. This was not a surrender. It was an infiltration.
The ceremony was a small, perfunctory thing. It happened in our own dusty reception room, not a grand temple. A bored looking magistrate read the standard vows. Khalid stood beside me, a calm, dark pillar in his usual blacks and navies. He said his "I do" with the same tone he might use to confirm a trade agreement. I said mine clear and loud, like stating a fact.
My father signed the public document, his hand shaking with relief. My mother cried quiet, confused tears. There was no grand feast, no procession through the streets. There was just the contract in my mind, and the red silk on my back.
By dusk, I was packed into a simple but well sprung carriage. Khalid rode ahead on his horse, not beside me. This was delivery, not a romantic journey. I watched my family's villa shrink through the small window until it disappeared. I did not cry. I folded my hands in my lap and watched the city give way to wooded hills.
The al Munsif palace did not rise from the landscape. It emerged, like a natural formation. It was all pale sandstone and soaring arches, built into the side of a cliff with a waterfall cascading beside it. It was beautiful, yes, but its beauty was imposing. It was a fortress that dared you to call it one. The gates were massive things of ancient ironwood, carved with falcons in flight. They swung open silently.
No cheering crowds. No lines of servants. A single, older steward with a kind face and watchful eyes greeted Khalid, then bowed to me. "Welcome, Lady Leyla. Your apartments are prepared."
Khalid glanced at me, just once. "The steward will see to your needs. We will speak tomorrow." And then he was gone, walking away into the deepening shadows of a the hallway, his boots making no sound. I was left standing in the grand courtyard, the perfume of night blooming jasmine thick in the air, utterly alone.
I was not led to a bridal suite rather, I was led through a maze of quiet corridors, up a flight of stairs that opened onto a private wing. The rooms were elegant, spacious, and completely empty of any personal touch. There was a sitting room with shelves waiting for books, a bedroom with a vast, untouched bed, a bathing chamber, and a balcony that looked out over the entire valley. It was a beautiful cage. A blank page. It felt less like a home and more like a strategic position waiting to be occupied.
A young maid appeared, her eyes downcast. She unpacked my single trunk, hanging my few dresses in the cavernous wardrobe where they looked small and lonely. She lit the lamps and vanished, leaving a tray of food I did not touch.
Silence pressed in. It was the deep, watchful silence of a large house holding its breath. I walked out onto the balcony. The night was cool. Below, the gardens were pools of darkness. The waterfall was a constant, distant sigh.
And then I saw them.
Lights. Not the general glow of the main palace, but specific, solitary lights burning in distant wings. One. Two. Three. I counted them as they winked into existence in the gathering dark. Four. Five. Six.
Six separate lights in six separate parts of the sprawling palace. Six fires in their own hearths. Six minds in their own domains. They were not hiding. They were announcing their presence. Each light felt like an eye opening in the dark, gazing across at the new, seventh light that had just been kindled in my empty rooms.
My skin prickled. This was the machine Khalid had spoken of. I was not just looking at a building. I was looking at a living map of power.
I stood there until the night grew fully black and the stars emerged. The six lights continued to burn. No one came to greet me. No one came to threaten me. The indifference was more unnerving than hostility.
Finally, I turned to go inside. That's when I saw it. A single sheet of heavy paper, laid perfectly centered on the writing desk in the sitting room. It had not been there before.
A silent servant must have entered and left while I was on the balcony. The thought was unsettling.
I walked over and picked it up. The script was clean, efficient, unfamiliar. It was a simple list.
· Mariam. Steward. Domestic Operations & Finance.
· Imani. Logistics. Trade & Supply Networks.
· Yasmin. Botanist. Agriculture & Pharmacology.
· Layla. Muse. Cultural Intelligence & Social Navigation.
· Samira. Scholar. Archives, History & Legal Research.
· Nadia. Security. Personnel & Territorial Integrity.*
No titles of "wife." No descriptors like "the beautiful" or "the gentle." Just names and functions. Assets in the portfolio. Gears in the machine. This was how he saw them. This was how he expected me to see them.
At the very bottom of the page, in a different, sharper handwriting I recognized, was a short line. Khalid's hand.
The board. Find your move.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. The paper trembled slightly in my hand, not from fear, but from the sheer, electric focus that surged through me. The quiet of the room was gone, replaced by a hum of possibility. The six distant lights were no longer just lights. They were Mariam, Imani, Yasmin, Layla, Samira, and Nadia. The lawyer, the trader, the gardener, the socialite, the scholar, the warrior. My first intelligence report.
He was not introducing me to my new sisters. He was giving me the specifications of my new rivals. Or perhaps my potential allies. He was leaving that for me to discover.
I placed the paper back on the desk. I looked from the list to the open balcony, where those six lights still glowed, steady and self contained.
A slow smile spread across my face. It felt right in the empty room. The red silk of my dress seemed to deepen in the lamplight.
"Okay," I said softly to the waiting night, to the six watching lights,to the challenge laid bare on the desk. "Let's play."
