The ride to the high kingdom took more than the four hours their father had promised. By 6 am, they were already out of the house; the sun was now in its full glory, and they were still on the road to wherever God knows where. Adnan sat in front of Aila, his face radiant and glowing, a huge smile plastered on it.
Besides yesterday, this was the happiest Aila had ever seen him, as if the whole world were now at his feet, and he could touch it anytime.
This morning, he didn't shout at any of them, even at their mother. He addressed them with love, kissed their foreheads, and then led them to the carriage sent to bring them.
And their mother just seemed happy because their father was delighted.
Aila stared at herself seated beside her father, but in reality, she was now staring at Akila, her eyes glued to the book she was reading. Her mind was still in a haze of everything that had happened. She was in Akila's body as if she were the bride they picked, earning their parents' smiles and words of approval. But yet, she was freaking out inside.
She was scared. It was too real to be true.
Aila's fingers curled into her skirt, squeezing it so tight her knuckles almost burned. She stared at Akila for more than a minute, hoping she would get the hint, but she did not.
Great, she thought to herself. So great.
Here she was, sacrificing her soul for her sister, and yet she wouldn't even look at her.
Akila wouldn't look at her, not even a single glance. Not even a secret smile.
She let her thoughts wander to the kingdom, the mad King, the unknown soul she was getting married to, with no idea of what he looked like.
What if the rumors were true?
Mad and crazy with a rotten soul?
What if he was a goat in human clothing? She gulped down, instinctively closing her eyes and shaking her head. The thought alone made her shudder, and she didn't want to entertain it.
Three months, just like Akila said.
Three months, and she would be out of there.
The carriage jerked to a stop, and her eyes turned to the door as her heart pounded heavily. "We're here. I'll inform the elders, and they'll come out to get you," the man who drove said before he walked out.
Aila gulped down again, the fear gnawing at every breath she took. She shouldn't have done this. She shouldn't have agreed. She should have tried to talk Akila out of it.
She looked at Akila again, whose gaze was now focused outside the window, her heart thumping heavily in her chest. She could feel her blood rising, her heart pounding heavily in her chest, her lungs begging for air, begging her to be released.
This was too much.
This was too much.
Voices echoed in her head, both hers and her mother's. She could hear her father mouthing something, too, everyone saying too much. Her fingers thrummed on her lap, her legs bouncing on and off as everywhere got tighter. Regret pooled her thoughts,
It should have been Akila here, not her.
"Akila!" She heard her mother call out.
"Akila!"
"Akila!"
It wasn't until her mother tapped her that everything stopped. "Yes, mother."
"I've been calling you."
"No, you weren't. You were calling Aki…
Her breath caught in her throat. She didn't finish the sentence, swallowing the rest as she finally made eye contact with her sister, Akila's eyes darkening in a silent warning. Her mother's head darted between them, her forehead creasing with veiny lines as she stared at them suspiciously.
"All you have to do is respect him, my daughter. If he says something, don't argue with him. Don't talk back to him. And keep your fiery anger at bay from him. He's the king and our saviour," her father started his second round of advice.
He took her hand, slowly patting it with a happy smile. "This would mean a lot to me and the family. We would be raised in rank and finally belong again." He said.
"Do you understand?"
Aila slowly nodded, ignoring the panic and dread clawing their way out of her. The carriage door swung open, and the sun immediately pooled into the car.
Her heart skipped a beat at the first image she saw: five men, ranging from middle-aged to old, lined outside. Their stone-cold eyes bore into the carriage, and there was no hint of a welcoming smile on their faces.
She instinctively took a step back, grabbing the carriage seat. " C…can…I talk…to…"Ak…Aila, first before we go out, mother?"
There was no way she was going to continue with this. There was no way she'd marry an older man who was way older than her, whoever he might be amongst them.
"Now is not the time, Akila," her father strung out through clenched teeth, his warm palms meeting her cold ones.
He yanked her out of the carriage instantly.
"Welcome to the High Kingdom, Adnan! Long time no see!" One of the older men greeted them, pulling her father into a hug.
"The honor is ours, Charles. Thank you for blessing us with this opportunity."
The man smiled wryly at her father in response.
"The marriage needs to be held immediately." The man continued before looking away from her father.
"Yes…yes, of course. I know that, Charles." Her father beamed in response, grinning from ear to ear.
He glanced at both of them, his brows furrowing. "Which one is the bride, Adnan?"
Her father turned back to her and grabbed her roughly, pushing her forward, "Here she is, my beautiful daughter, Akila."
She forced a smile as she swallowed, meeting the eyes of the man who raked her from head to toe. His hardened expression did not shift the slightest. There was a hint of disgust or disdain on his face before he replied plainly, like she was nothing.
"Good. She'll do."
He turned and gave instructions to a younger man dressed as if he were a guard of the kingdom,
"Take her to my daughter and ask her to be dressed up immediately." He turned back to look at her father. "You should all follow me and freshen up."
The younger man approached her, at least smiling at her, before asking her to follow him. She did as instructed, passing Akila one last pleading look, which the latter didn't return before walking away.
Her chest thumped heavily at every beat, her hand clammy with dread as they entered the gigantic house. Every step she took felt like she was walking to her grave, like she was doing something so wrong it would kill her.
What if they figure it out? Her mind circled the mistakes she had made today. When she almost called Akila's name, when she didn't hear her mother. What if she made more? What if she gets there and they take one look at her and know she's fake?
What if…
Her thoughts crashed over each other, piling and fighting for space in her head until none was left.
Suddenly, a voice floated all over her thoughts, and she looked up to see they'd stopped in front of a door,
"We're here," the man in front of her spoke.
The door opened, revealing a lady. Her face, full of smiles as she opened it, died down, replaced by something Aila couldn't place her fingers on as their eyes met. She immediately averted her gaze to the floor. "Is this the girl?" the lady asked.
"Yes, " the man who brought her replied. Your father says you have twenty minutes to dress her up before it starts," the man responded before walking away.
Aila remained where she stood, not taking her eyes off the ground or moving an inch. "Come inside," the lady said plainly, widening the door as she stepped in.
Aila followed suit and was led to a chair.
Her eyes followed the lady through the mirror, her black hair packed into a ponytail, dangling behind her as she walked. She averted her gaze as the lady turned back to her.
"Sit down," the lady said, a brutal harshness in her tone.
Aila watched her pick a brush from the dressing table, loosening her curls—Akila's curls down before yanking the brush through her hair.
Pain spread through her scalp, her eyes widening in horror. Aila bit her lip to keep from gasping as the lady continued yanking through her hair like she didn't care.
She stopped suddenly and walked away, Aila's eyes following her as she picked a white silk gown from the hanger. Aila returned her gaze to her lap as the lady walked towards her before throwing the dress on her.
"Change into this."
"Ye..yes…" she stuttered, immediately doing as she was told.
She removed her clothes and slid the gown on, zipping everything herself.
Aila would have asked the lady to help her, but something about her seemed off. She appeared angry for a reason Aila was finding hard to comprehend— like her father's kind of anger whenever he had something to complain about.
By the time she was done, Aila stared at herself in the mirror, barely recognizing herself.
Looking at Akila's face in the mirror, the weight of their actions sank in even more.
She was still staring when the lady spoke, her tone full of disdain, "He would never want you."
Aila turned to look at her, her brows furrowed. "Wh... what?" She stuttered.
The lady approached, stopping before they got too close,
"I don't know where they brought you from or what you think you are. But he would never accept you as his wife. You're just a placeholder here until his eyes open and see what's right for him."
Aila's forehead creased with lines as the lady approached, slowly with her arms folded underneath her breasts, her eyes glaring daggers at her.
She closed the distance between them, leaning to Aila's ear to continue,
"I am to be his wife." She started,
…"His rightful wife. And you have no idea what I've done to make myself his rightful wife. So you should watch your back and stay where you belong to survive here. Because I would make it your new hell if you ever…ever…cross the line."
*************
Meanwhile, in the high tower, the king—Ahsan, in all his might and glory—stood beside the window, staring down at the carriage that had just rolled in, his eyes fixed on the girl still standing beside the new man.
The other girl—her face he didn't see well—had been taken in. Ahsan assumed that it was the bride. But this one—there was something wrong with her face, with her eyes.
Or maybe it was just that she looked like her too much—the woman that made him, the woman that gave him his cursed damned name.
AHSAN.
The door opened, snatching his thoughts and focus away from the girl as he turned to the door. A guard walked in and bowed. Even from far away, he could see how the man's throat was gobbling, his hands shaking tremendously on his lap,
"Your Highness, the elders have asked me to inform you….
"I know," he sharply cut him off.
A sharp smile cornered the edges of his lips, something fascinating drilling and humming in his bones.
A bride.
His bride.
Finally, something fun. Someone new to test if they'll accept him for who he is or be scared off like the bunch of men he has at his table every day.
"Well," he said, stepping down from where he was standing and sharpening the unseen crease in his attire. "Shall we go meet my new wife?"