It was nearly dusk when she had arrived at the palace in a separate carriage than that of her parents. Even living in the same house as them was unbearable, she couldn't imagine being stuck in such a small space as them.
She stepped out of the carriage in her dark brown garments and had made her way into the palace. Once inside, in front of the entrance to the court, she saw her parents along with Laia standing beside her. Apparently, they had wanted to go in as a family.
She snorted. As if.
She walked right past them. Her parents and Laia looked on in confusion before glaring at her as she began walking towards the opposite side to where they usually stood. She ignored them, walking closer to the throne before settling beside two other noblewomen. Yahmir was not in attendance, since just a day back he had been sent urgently to the borders again. Before leaving, he had left Qurbat a letter, one she burned before reading.
Not even a moment had passed when the announcement was made, "His Highness, The King!"
Everyone curtsied as the King stepped foot in the court, walking along the long carpet stretched out before him in his flagrant dark blue robes and a turban far too big for his head. Then, he climbed on top of the platform before seating himself on the throne.
He was a man with a curly brown long beard and deep and hollow brown eyes with which he inspected the nobles before him. Qurbat could sense a certain nervousness in his gaze, which was weird because; he was the King.
"I am grateful to you all for making your attendance mandatory in this meeting. As you can guess," he paused and sighed before continuing, "The news isn't good." There were murmurs and confused expressions amongst the attendees as he continued, "As you all must have heard, Mastaan has declared war on the Kingdom." Qurbat raised her brows. Yes, Huma had mentioned her father talking about something related to this, and apparently the crowd had too.
Mastaan, a tribal leader from Sindh who had accumulated significant influence despite being the son of a measly pickpocket.
"Now his army is ten times our size, and you should all be well aware that if he were to go ahead with what he has declared, we don't stand a chance. Cities will be burned. Women raped. Children brutally murdered." Before the silence of terror could befall the court, he declared enthusiastically. "However, do not lose heart! General Nuhaadazym, the great warlord of the North has graciously agreed to offer us his help, and as you must know by now, if we have him by our side, then none can dare attack our Kingdom, let alone capture it."
Despite the seemingly good news, silence fell in the court and no one spoke. Councillor Raees and Bakhtawar Begum exchanged horrified glances.
Nuhaadazym, the man who was known to play catch with the heads of his enemies. Just the name was enough to silence everyone and their mom.
Aside from the occasional murmurs of his name, the court had become as silent as a graveyard. The King awaited the response he had anticipated, but when he did not receive it, he cleared his throat before continuing, "But there is a catch."
Qurbat almost snorted. Ah, there it was.
"As you know, the General does not have a bride anymore. His last one..." he hesitated, glancing over at Councillor Raees and Bakhtawar Begum, whose faces had turned to stone, before saying, "Never mind."
But Qurbat remembered well. She had walked in on Hooriya grovelling before her parents, begging them that she did not want to go. But they had not listened. Marrying her to Nuhaadazym meant significant increase in wealth and status, and no amount of grovelling would make them change their minds.
Less than a year later, they had received news that Nuhaadazym had murdered Hooriya.
How and why? No one knew.
"Thus, he has demanded that we send him a new bride," the Emperor continued. Their were collective gasps and mini screams from the attendees. The King hesitated for a moment before continuing, "I know that is anything but desirable. But it is one life in exchange for millions." He paused, as if realising the gravity of what he had said judging by the expressions of the attendees. He quickly backtracked.
"I meant, of course there is no saying that what will happen with this one will be the same as what happened with the last one. Not at all. Either way, this is his demand. And we must send him the daughter of a nobleman."
But it was too late. All the noble damsels, including Laia, hid behind their parents, lamenting ever agreeing to accompany them and Qurbat could swear she could here muffled screams.
"Why do you want to send one of our daughters?" Spoke Councillor Shaakir, a lean man in olive garments. It was hard to describe whether he was offended or horrified. "Why not send a peasant girl?" Qurbat narrowed the eyes at the pathetic creature protesting before her. Ah yes, because your life only matters if you eat beef and wear velvet.
"Councillor Shaakir, this is a political alliance," the King scoffed. "We can't just chuck a beggar girl off the streets and send her to him. It has to be a noblewoman."
"So you want to send one of our daughters to their death?" Spoke another Councillor whose name Qurbat had forgotten.
"There is no reason to speculate that he would harm her," the King attempted desperately.
"But he harmed the previous one, didn't he?" The Councillor pushed back.
"Yes, but..." The King didn't get the chance to complete his sentence as the court erupted in protests. Councillor Raees and Bakhtawar Begum looked visibly offended at the audacity of the request. Sending another bride to the murderer of their daughter? The fact that the King had even considered it was preposterous not only to them but to the crowd, and they crowd was not afraid to make it known.
"I'll go."