Chapter 61 Sixty one

Chapter 61 Sixty one

Leyla's POV

The summons from the Sultan came at dawn. It was for Khalid alone.

I watched him leave from my window, his carriage disappearing through the palace gates before the sun had fully cleared the horizon. My stomach churned with a dread I could not name. Something was wrong. I felt it in my bones.

The hours crawled by. I tried to occupy myself with ledgers, with books, with anything. But my mind kept returning to Malek's smile at the moon viewing party. That knowing, satisfied smile. He had seen something. He had filed it away. And now he was using it.

Khalid returned just before noon. His face was pale beneath its usual bronze. His eyes were grim.

He called us all to the war room. All seven wives. We gathered around the table, the map of the empire spread beneath our hands, and waited.

"The Vizier has presented concerns to the Sultan," Khalid said, his voice flat. "Concerns about the moral order of this household."

Mariam stiffened. Samira's pen stilled. Imani's eyes went sharp and dangerous.

"He has no direct proof," Khalid continued. "But he does not need it. He has insinuations. Enough to plant unease in the Sultan's mind. Enough to warrant... action."

"What action?" I asked, though I already knew the answer would be bad.

Khalid met my eyes. "A public pilgrimage to the Sacred Springs. All of us. A week of observance under the watchful eyes of his priests. He has framed it as an opportunity to demonstrate our unity and piety to the court. A chance to quiet the whispers."

The room went silent.

Imani spoke first, her voice flat and cold. "It is a trap."

Khalid nodded. "Yes."

"A week away from the palace," Imani continued. "Isolated in the mountains. Surrounded by his people, his priests, his watchers. He will have agents planted everywhere, waiting for any misstep. One wrong look, one unguarded moment, and he has his proof."

Nadia's jaw tightened. "Then we do not go."

"We cannot refuse," Khalid said. "To refuse would be an admission. It would confirm his insinuations. The Sultan would wonder what we are hiding. The trap would spring anyway."

Yasmin spoke softly. "So we walk into it."

"Yes."

Mia made a small sound, barely a whimper. Samira reached for her hand beneath the table, squeezed it once.

My mind raced. A week in the mountains. Surrounded by enemies. Watched every moment. Expected to perform unity and piety while hiding the deepest, most forbidden parts of ourselves.

It was impossible. It was necessary. It was the only move left.

I looked at Khalid. "When do we leave?"

"Dawn tomorrow. The Sultan has approved the pilgrimage. Malek has arranged everything." He paused. "Including the priests who will observe us."

Of course he had. The spider was spinning his web with care.

The meeting broke up. The wives drifted away, each lost in her own fear, her own calculations. I stayed at the table, staring at the map, at the mountains where the Sacred Springs lay.

Nadia came back. She stood behind me, her hand on my shoulder. Warm. Solid.

"We can do this," she said quietly.

I turned, looked up at her. "Can we? A week of pretending not to love you. Not to love any of you. Watching every word, every glance, every breath."

Her eyes softened. "We have done it before. We can do it again."

"Before was different. Before, we were in our home. We had control. This is his territory. His game."

She knelt beside me, took my hands in hers. "Then we change the game. We walk into his trap and we spring it ourselves. We find his agents before they find us. We feed them what they want to see and hide what matters."

I stared at her. The warrior, the fighter, the woman of action. She was thinking like a strategist. Like me.

"When did you get so smart?" I whispered.

Her smile was small but real. "I learned from the best."

I leaned forward, pressed my forehead to hers. Just for a moment. Just to feel her close.

"Together," I said.

"Together," she agreed.

The door opened. I pulled back quickly, but it was only Samira. She saw us, our closeness, and for a moment her face flickered with something like pain. Then she composed herself.

"Khalid wants us in his study. There is more to discuss."

We went. All seven of us gathered again, this time in the smaller room where Khalid kept his private papers. The fire crackled. The night pressed against the windows.

Khalid spoke for an hour, laying out plans, contingencies, escape routes. Imani added details about Malek's known agents. Mariam outlined a schedule of prayers and observances that would keep us constantly in public view. Yasmin described compounds that could help with stress, with fear, with the need to stay alert through sleepless nights. Samira quoted ancient texts about pilgrims' rights and protections. Nadia planned defensive positions around the camp. Mia, quietly, offered to play music that would soothe the watchers and give us moments of private communication through coded melodies.

I listened. I added my own thoughts. And slowly, a plan began to form.

Not just to survive the week. To win it. To turn Malek's trap into our own victory.

By midnight, we had a strategy. By dawn, we would be ready.

I walked to my room alone. The corridors were empty, silent. I passed the library where I had first kissed Samira. The garden where Yasmin had offered me tea. The training yard where Nadia had taught me to hold a sword. The music room where Mia had played her heart open. The study where Imani had finally surrendered. The office where Mariam had given me her trust.

I would see them all tomorrow. I would be near them for a week. And I would not be able to touch any of them.

The pain of it was a physical weight in my chest.

But the love was heavier. The love would carry me through.

I opened my door, stepped inside, and began to pack for the pilgrimage. The spider's web awaited. But spiders could be crushed. And this spider had no idea what he was about to face.