[AMAL POV]
The sound of approaching footsteps made me straighten. The door opened, and the prince entered, his expression unreadable. He took in the scene—me standing by the desk, the unopened portfolio, the lingering tension in the air.
"Khalil's been here," he said. It wasn't a question.
"Yes, Your Highness."
"And what did my loyal advisor have to say?"
I chose my words carefully. "He instructed me in my duties, Your Highness. And emphasized the importance of loyalty."
"Loyalty." The prince's smile was sharp as a blade. "How interesting. And what did you tell him?"
"That I serve at your pleasure, Your Highness."
"Mmm. And do you? Serve at my pleasure?"
The question hung in the air like a sword. I met his storm-grey eyes through my veil, searching for some hint of his true intentions.
"I serve survival, Your Highness. And you are the key to my survival."
Something flickered in his expression—surprise, perhaps, or approval. "Honest. I appreciate honesty. It's so rare in this palace."
Funny how they utter the same words.
He moved to the desk and opened the portfolio, his fingers moving through the documents with practiced efficiency. "These reports contain more than grain yields and tax collections. They contain the future of this kingdom. And I'm going to teach you to read that future."
He selected a document and held it out to me. "This is from the governor of Qadesh. Read it. All of it. And tell me what you see."
I took the parchment, my fingers trembling slightly. The script was dense, formal, but as I read, patterns began to emerge. References to "unusual movement" in the desert. Mentions of "disrupted trade routes" and "unreliable local guides." And scattered throughout, seemingly innocuous references to "the merchants of the eastern wind."
"The merchants of the eastern wind," I said slowly. "They're mentioned five times, but always in connection with delays or problems."
"Very good. And what do you think that means?"
I hesitated, then plunged ahead. "It's not a trading company. It's a code name."
The prince's smile was genuinely pleased. "Excellent. You see patterns that others miss. Yes, 'the merchants of the eastern wind' is indeed a code name. For the Whispering Sands."
My blood turned to ice. "Your Highness—"
"The rebels are more organized than most people realize. They have supporters in the governor's palace, in the merchant guilds, even here in the capital." He took the document back, his expression serious. "And they're planning something. Something that could change everything."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I need someone I can trust. Someone who has nothing to gain from betraying me and everything to lose." He moved closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Someone who understands that survival depends on choosing the right side."
The implications hit me like a physical blow. "You're saying the prince—your father—"
"My father is dying. The physicians give him perhaps six months. And when he dies, there will be a struggle for succession. My older brother has the legal right, but he's weak. The governors know it, the merchants know it, and the Whispering Sands know it." His eyes glittered with dangerous ambition. "But I am not weak."
"You're planning to overthrow your brother."
"I'm planning to save this kingdom from collapse. My brother would negotiate with the rebels, try to find compromise. That would only encourage them. What's needed is decisive action."
I stared at him, my mind reeling. "And you want me to help you."
"I want you to help me understand what my enemies are planning. The correspondence, the reports, the whispered conversations at court—they all contain pieces of a larger puzzle. And you, my dear, are going to help me solve it."
Before I could respond, a commotion erupted in the corridor outside. Shouting voices, running footsteps, the clash of steel on steel. The prince's expression changed instantly, becoming alert and dangerous.
"Stay here," he commanded, moving toward the door. "Touch nothing. Speak to no one."
He disappeared into the corridor, leaving me alone with the scattered documents and my racing thoughts. The sounds of conflict grew closer, and I heard a voice I recognized—Khalil, shouting orders.
"Seal the palace! No one enters or leaves!"
I moved to the window, my hands shaking as I pulled back the curtain. In the courtyard below, I could see guards running in formation, their weapons drawn. And in the distance, smoke rose from the direction of the city.
The rebellion had begun.
A soft sound made me turn. Farah stood in the doorway, her face pale above her veil.
"They found the spy," she whispered. "The one who's been feeding information to the Whispering Sands. They're bringing him to the throne room now."
"Who is it?"
Her eyes met mine, and I saw something that made my blood freeze.
"Najwa."
My heart sank at the mention of the name.
"Which Najwa?"
Part of me did not want to know the answer.
"Najwa. The girl from the dungeons."
The world tilted around me. Najwa—gentle Najwa who treated injuries on girls, who did not think of escaping once. Najwa who had wept when they dragged me away to serve the prince.
"No." The word escaped my lips before I could stop it. "That's impossible. She's just a kitchen servant."
"Kitchen servants hear things. They move through the palace unseen, unnoticed." Farah's voice was urgent now. "They're saying she's been passing information about guard rotations, about the prince's movements, about supply convoys."
"She wouldn't—"
"She would if someone she loved was being held by the rebels. If someone threatened her family." Farah moved closer, her voice dropping to barely a whisper. "They have ways of making people cooperate."
The documents on the prince's desk suddenly felt like they were burning. All that talk of merchants and eastern winds, of coded messages and rebel networks. Had Najwa been reading similar papers? Had she been forced to choose between her family and her conscience?
"Where is she now?"
"They're holding her in the throne room. The prince's father wants to question her personally before..." Farah's voice trailed off.
"Before what?"
"Before the execution. At sunset. In the courtyard, for all the servants to see." She gripped my arm through the fabric of my robe. "They want to make an example of her."
My mind raced. Sunset was only hours away. The prince had said I was useful, that my intelligence was valuable. Perhaps I could convince him to spare her, to find another way.
"I have to speak with the prince."
"Are you mad? He's with his father now, planning their response to the uprising. You can't just—"
The door burst open, cutting off her words. The prince strode in, his face grim, his white tunic stained with something dark. Behind him came two guards, their hands on their sword hilts.
"Farah," he said curtly. "You're dismissed. Return to Lady Bushra immediately."
"Yes, your Highness"
She bowed and hurried from the room, but not before shooting me a warning look. The guards took positions by the door, their eyes scanning the chamber.
"Your Highness," I began, my voice steadier than I felt. "I heard about the spy—"
"Did you?" His storm-grey eyes fixed on me with laser intensity. "And what did you hear, exactly?"
"That a kitchen servant has been arrested. That she's accused of working with the rebels."
"Najwa bint Rashid. Twenty-three years old, from the village of Tal Afar. Worked in the palace kitchens for two years." He moved to his desk, his fingers drumming against the wood. "According to the interrogation, she's been passing information to the Whispering Sands for six months."
six months? That is before I started serving The Second Prince.
"Interrogation?" My blood turned to ice.
"My father's methods are... thorough. She's confessed to everything. Names, locations, plans." He looked up at me, his expression unreadable. "Tell me, did you know about her activities?"
The question hung in the air like a blade. I could feel the guards' eyes on me, could sense the danger radiating from the prince's deceptively calm demeanor.
"No, Your Highness. I knew nothing."
"Nothing." He stood, moving around the desk with predatory grace. "You shared a cell with her for years. You spoke with her, ate with her, slept beside her. And you noticed nothing suspicious?"
"She was kind to me. That's all I knew."
"Kind." He was close now, close enough that I could smell the frankincense on his clothes, could see the flecks of gold in his grey eyes. "Kindness is a luxury in this palace. One that often comes with a price."
"Your Highness, if I may—"
"You may not." His voice cut through my words like a sword. "You may listen. The woman you call friend has betrayed this kingdom. She has given aid to murderers and thieves. She has broken the trust placed in her by my family." He paused, his eyes never leaving mine. "The penalty for treason is death."
"Please." The word slipped out before I could stop it. "There must be another way."
"Another way?" Something dangerous flickered in his expression. "Are you suggesting I show mercy to a traitor?"
"I'm suggesting that perhaps she was coerced. That perhaps she had no choice."
"Everyone has a choice. She chose to betray us. And now she'll face the consequences." He turned away, moving back to his desk. "Unless..."
"Unless what?"
"Unless someone could provide me with information of equal value. Something that would make her life worth more than her death."
My heart hammered against my ribs. "What kind of information?"
"The kind that only someone close to the rebels would know. Meeting places, contact methods, future plans." He picked up one of the documents, scanning its contents. "The kind of information that could help us crush this rebellion before it spreads."
I stared at him, understanding dawning like a cold sunrise. "You want me to spy on the other servants. To find more rebels."
"I want you to prove your loyalty. To show me that you're worth more than your friend." He set the document aside and looked at me directly. "Help me find the other spies in this palace, and I'll commute her sentence to imprisonment."
The chamber fell silent except for the crackling of the brazier. I could feel the weight of the decision pressing down on me like a stone. Save Najwa by betraying others, or watch her die to preserve my own conscience.
"I need time to think."
"Time is a luxury I can't afford. The rebellion is spreading. Even now, my scouts report that three more villages have declared for the Whispering Sands." He moved to the window, his silhouette dark against the morning light. "Choose now. Your friend's life depends on it."
I closed my eyes, trying to think. But before I could answer, a new voice cut through the tension.
"How touching. The scullery girl bargaining for her friend's life."
I spun around to see Khalil standing in the doorway, his expression cold with satisfaction. Behind him stood another figure—a woman in rich robes, her face uncovered, her beauty marked by cruelty.
"Lady Bushra," the prince said, his voice carefully neutral. "I wasn't expecting you."
"Clearly." The prince's sister glided into the room, her eyes taking in every detail. "I came to discuss the rebellion with you, brother. But I find you... distracted."
"I'm handling the situation."
"Are you? Because from where I stand, it looks like you're being manipulated by a servant girl." Her gaze fixed on me, and I felt like prey caught in a predator's stare. "Tell me, girl, what makes you think your friend's life is worth negotiating for?"
I kept my voice steady. "I think every life has value, my lady."
"How naive. Value is determined by usefulness. And traitors are worse than useless—they're dangerous." She moved closer, her perfume overwhelming. "But perhaps... perhaps there's another solution."
"Bushra—" the prince began.
"Hear me out, brother. The girl clearly has influence over the other servants. They trust her. And trust is a valuable commodity in times like these." She circled me slowly. "What if we used that trust to our advantage?"
"I don't understand, my lady."
"Don't you? You could return to the servants' quarters. Resume your old duties. And while you're there, you could... listen. Report back on what you hear. Who speaks against the royal family, who seems sympathetic to the rebels." Her smile was sharp as a blade. "A spy among the servants. How useful that would be."
The prince's expression was thoughtful. "An interesting proposal."
"And in exchange," Lady Bushra continued, "your friend lives. Imprisoned, yes, but alive. Everyone wins."
I felt the trap closing around me. Whatever choice I made, I would be betraying someone. The only question was whom.
"I need assurances," I said finally. "I need to know that Najwa will be truly safe."
"You're in no position to make demands," Khalil interjected.
"Actually, she is." The prince's voice was quiet but commanding. "Her cooperation is valuable. And valuable assets deserve protection." He looked at me directly. "Very well. Help us identify the other rebels in the palace, and I'll guarantee your friend's safety. She'll be moved to comfortable quarters, treated as a guest rather than a prisoner."
"And after the rebellion is crushed?"
"After the rebellion is crushed, she'll be free to leave the palace. With a pension, even. My word on it."
Lady Bushra's eyes glittered with approval. "How generous, brother. The girl should be grateful for such an offer."
I looked at them—the prince with his storm-grey eyes and hidden depths, Lady Bushra with her beautiful cruelty, Khalil with his cold calculation. They were offering me a way to save Najwa's life, but at what cost to my soul?
"I accept," I said quietly.
"Excellent." The prince moved to his desk and pulled out a small silver key. "This will get you into the servants' quarters after dark. You'll have access to areas most servants can't reach. Use it wisely."
"And how do I contact you?"
"You don't. Farah will find you. She'll serve as our intermediary." He paused. "One more thing. Your friend doesn't know about this arrangement. As far as she's concerned, you're still just another servant. It's safer that way."
I nodded, though the thought of deceiving Najwa made my stomach turn.
"The execution has been postponed," Lady Bushra announced. "Indefinitely. The other servants will be told that new evidence has come to light, that the investigation continues." She smiled coldly. "They'll be so relieved. It will make them careless."
"When do I start?"
"Now," the prince said. "Return to the kitchens. Resume your duties. And remember—you're not just fighting for your friend's life anymore. You're fighting for the future of this kingdom."
As I moved toward the door, Khalil stepped into my path.
"A word of advice, girl. Don't let sentiment cloud your judgment. The prince's mercy has limits. Cross those limits, and your friend won't be the only one who suffers."
I met his gaze steadily. "I understand, my lord."
"Do you? I wonder." He stepped aside, but his eyes never left mine. "We'll see soon enough."
I left the chamber with my head high, but inside, I felt like I was drowning. I had saved Najwa's life, but at what cost? I was now a spy in my own world, tasked with betraying the very people who had shown me kindness in my darkest hours.
As I walked through the corridors toward the servants' quarters, I caught sight of Farah waiting in an alcove. She fell into step beside me, her voice barely a whisper.
"How did it go?"
"Najwa lives."
"And the price?"
I looked at her, seeing my own conflict reflected in her dark eyes. "Everything."
"Then we'd better make sure it's worth it."
As we descended toward the kitchens, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was walking deeper into a maze with no exit. The prince's game had rules I didn't understand, and the stakes kept rising with every choice I made.
But Najwa was alive. For now, that had to be enough.