The Meet

The door creaked open to reveal a massive figure wearing a full set of heavy battle armor. He stood tall, his broad shoulders accentuating his uniform’s intricate gold and black details as a large emblem of the kingdom’s crest was proudly displayed on his breastplate. His face was framed by waves of long dark hair, and captivating brown eyes shone from beneath a strong brow. He exuded an air of daring strength, the embodiment of a true warrior.

Khari stood still, her head cocked to one side as she overheard a slight shift in the person’s stance. The scent of woody ginger wafted around her, and she heard the stranger take a step closer. “I believe you dropped this,” he said gently. His eyes scanned over her body, drinking in her essence. She was absolutely stunning. His eyes moved from her face to her dress, a deep fuchsia shade that clung to her curves and contours. His gaze lingered on her heaving breasts before drifting up to the scar etched across her neck. She wore her hair in an intricate style with ringlets of curls framing her face and cascading down her back. Her creamy skin had a touch of rose to her cheeks, but it was her silver eyes that captivated him. Even though she couldn’t see, they seemed to pierce his soul.

His gaze fluttered down to the scarf in his hand. He ran his fingers along the smooth silk fabric, clutching it tightly like a lifeline. He remembered the scene earlier in the garden. Prince Wren had been fierce and unyielding as he used his words like a weapon, cutting and tearing the woman apart with every syllable that left his lips. Wren’s words had been like a sharp knife to the heart, and his brother’s cruelness had stung him to his core. Why does my brother treat her that way? He knew there must be a reason Wren was so unkind, but he couldn’t understand why someone deserved such treatment. She didn’t deserve that. Nobody deserved that. There must be a reason.

Khari took a step back, her expression apologetic as she softly cleared her throat, “I’m sorry,” she said, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I don’t think I know you. I don’t recognize your walk, your smell, or your voice. Who are you?”

He brought his gaze up to meet her, and his lips spread into a broad smile. Can she really identify someone just by listening and smelling? Bewildered and impressed, he reached up with his hand and grabbed hers, gently placing the scarf he was carrying into her soft grasp. “I’m General Azim-”

She abruptly yanked her hand away as though she’d been burned. Her heart thumped in her chest, and her eyes widened in shock as she realized who was standing before her, “Prince Azim?” She bowed deeply, tripping over her words in an effort to correct her poor etiquette skills, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be so forward. I wasn’t expecting you. Please forgive my lack of manners.” She remembered what had been told to her by the other maidens in hushed tones. The stories of the Demon of the Battlefield, he who had caused such destruction in the war. They said he was a monster and held no mercy on the battlefield. But as his warm hand touched hers, her heart told her a different tale. The softness of his touch made her heart flutter with a feeling that she could not deny. Still bent in a deep bow, her hair fell forward as a curtain, hiding her blushing cheeks. She finally said, “Welcome back, your Majesty.” She heard him move closer, entering the room. His footsteps were heavy and reverberated through the room as he walked, unlike Wren, whose steps were often slow and heavy with exhaustion, as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

“Prince Azim?” he asked.

Her head bowed, she slowly lifted her head, genuinely apologetic as her voice quivered, and asked, “Would you prefer to be addressed by another title?”

“No, it’s all right. I suppose I’ve been called General Azim for so long; it’s all I know.” He looked around her quarters, taking in the details of the small but neat space. A bed was pushed against one wall, a large mahogany wardrobe was across from it, and a desk sat below a window that opened out to a balcony. His gaze fell on the tapestry mounted to the wall. A reminder of home and everything he had left behind. Its intricate design depicted a lion clutching a sword and shield atop hues of gold and black - the same colors matched his armor. He smirked and inhaled deeply. The aroma of jasmine hit his nose. His brother was right; the woman did carry an alluring and intoxicating scent. He slowly spun around, and his eyes fixated on her. “I guess it’s something I’ll have to get used to,” he said, a glint of interest sparking in his gaze.

She smiled, “I’m glad you’ve returned home safely.”

The corners of his mouth lifted as he locked in on her bright, beaming smile. It was the first time seeing it since he arrived at her doorstep, and it didn’t disappoint. A wave of emotion swept through him, making his chest flutter. He shook his head, breaking the spell, and said, “Thank you. I must be going. I’ve kept my father waiting long enough.”

She bowed her head, her mind whirling as she processed what he had said. Could it be he had chosen to come to see her first before visiting his father? Finally, she raised her head and said, “Of course.”

Halfway out the door, he paused and slowly turned towards her. His hand on the knob as his eager eyes searched her face, “Forgive me for being so rude. I never even asked you what your name was.”

“Khari…Khari Reign,” she replied.

“Khari.” He said softly, letting her name linger in the air like a gentle caress. He felt his heart flitter at the beauty of her name, and it washed over him like a warm embrace. He kept his eyes connected to her, slowly tracing each contour of her face before he started to walk away, “I’ll see you around….” he said, his steps beginning to build pace as he called her name once more, repeating it with more than just a hint of lingering sentiment, “…Khari.”

Azim shut the door behind him as it softly clicked close. His smile dropped instantly as he thought of his brother and how he had treated her. He balled his hands into fists as frustration coursed through his veins. He walked the hallway with slow, calculated steps, set to get to the bottom of it. There seemed to be no reason for him to treat her that way, and he was determined to find out why.