Chapter 10: Close
Khari slowly zipped up her dress, mind still spinning from the night before. Her fingers traveled up to her forehead, where Azim’s lips had touched her skin, and her cheeks blushed hotly with the memory. She felt the warmth there linger long after her fingers moved away. With a deep breath, she walked down the hall and entered the dining room, where a crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. Light music played in the background as guests dressed in crisp suits and elegant gowns milled about. Suddenly, Wren appeared at her side; his face was tense, and his grip tight. He urgently pulled her away from the gathering guests and down the hall where no one else could hear them, “You dare to embarrass me? You led me to believe you can’t dance. Then you put on a show of a lifetime with Azim. What do you have to say for yourself?” he said.
Khari shifted uncomfortably as she cleared her throat and said, “Last night, Prince Azim helped me with the timing of the movements. He’s a great leader because he was patient and...”
He cut her off, squeezing her arm so hard that his fingers left a tinge of pinkness on her skin. He leaned in close, his voice low and menacing, “Are you saying I’m not a great leader?”
She winced and tried to pull away from his grasp, which tightened with each shake of her head. “No,” she croaked, her voice a desperate whisper. “I…” Tears welled in her eyes, and her lips quivered.
Azim rounded the corner, eager to fill his stomach with a hearty breakfast. But when he spotted Wren and Khari standing in the hall, all thoughts of food vanished from his mind. His face darkened when he saw Khari’s slumped shoulders and the dejected set of her mouth as he approached them. His gaze honed in on Wren’s fingers digging into her arm, the tension between them palpable. “Everything okay here?” he asked, his voice tight with concern.
Wren loosened her arm and took a step back. A predatory smirk played across his face as he addressed Azim. “We were just having a pleasant conversation, but unfortunately, Khari has some unfinished duties to attend to. Isn’t that right, Khari?” Wren’s cold eyes remained locked on her as his demand for agreement hung in the air.
Azim’s brows knitted together in concern, “These duties,” he said, his voice laden with doubt, “can’t wait until after she’d had a proper breakfast?”
Wren replied confidently, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He gestured grandly with his arm and flicked his wrist at Khari as if she were a pesky fly. “No, she has a lot to do today. I suggest you move along, Khari.”
Azim clenched his jaw as he observed Khari dip her head, then take slow, reverent steps away from them. He understood Wren had deprived her of breakfast as his way of punishing her - something that was unjust and uncalled for. The disdain in Wren’s tone and the sneer on his face made it clear he was enjoying abusing his power. The court customs differed from the rules of battle, and he knew his role didn’t give him the right to tell Wren how to treat his mistress. However, it was increasingly difficult to witness his mistreatment of her, both verbally and emotionally. If he stepped in to assert his dominance, it would most likely lead to an irreparable rift between him and Khari. A risk he couldn’t take.
* * *
Khari was sitting on her bed, enjoying the gentle breeze blowing in from her open balcony doors, when she heard a sudden knock at the door. She jumped up to answer it, thinking one of the servants had forgotten something. When she opened it, someone boldly stepped into the room without being invited. She heard the jingle of silverware as the person spoke to her in a deep, affectionate voice, “I got you eggs, grapes, orange juice, and a muffin. I thought you might be hungry after being forced to miss it this morning.” As he spoke, he walked around her room, his shoes clicking against her polished wood floors.
She closed the door shut and leaned against it, her heart racing, “Prince Azim?” she whispered, her head tilted to catch the slightest shift of his feet.
A wide, warm smile spread across his face as he said, “I told you to call me Azim, remember?”
She clasped her hands together tightly as she carefully chose her words, “How can I...” her voice quavered as she tried to maintain a respectful distance, “... it would assume a closeness that I cannot attest to.”
He stepped closer, and his cologne wafted in the air around her. Her eyes widened, and her heart skipped as he drawled, “And what if we were close? You don’t want to be close to me?”
“I…” she paused, trembling as she tried to gather her words. Azim was the first person to treat her kindly and make her feel more than a burden, like a human being. She felt his generosity reach into the depths of her soul, illuminating a spark of hope she had long forgotten existed.
Her slender fingers were trembling as she opened her mouth to respond. He didn’t give her a chance to say anything, taking her hands into his own instead. His warm grip was like a lifeline in the otherwise icy halls of the palace, and his words carried all the weight of truth. “I’m sorry my brother has treated you like trash. You don’t deserve it, especially since you are the most beautiful woman here.”
“What?” Khari exhaled, caught off guard as she pulled her hands from his and stepped back.
He strode forward, closing the distance between them. He studied her with interest, “I’ve been intrigued by you since the moment I first saw you,” he said softly. Her cheeks grew pink at his words, and he couldn’t help smirking at how flustered she was. “Am I being too forward?” he asked with a mischievous grin.