The Search

The search for Azim was extensive, and frustration grew with each day that passed. Soldiers marched through the streets, leaving no corner of the kingdom unchecked. Citizens volunteered their horses and wagons, while the royal family distributed funds to those who could aid in the search. Yet, despite all their effort, there was no sign of him. It was as if he had been swallowed up by the night sky, leaving no trace of his existence.

Khari sat upon Phoenix, her husband’s beloved stallion, as they galloped through the dense darkness of the night. The men in Azim’s military had already been searching for hours, and their desperation was palpable. Phoenix’s hooves relentlessly pounded the hard earth beneath them, and Khari could barely keep her eyes open. Exhausted, they brought their steeds to the stables, and she, with heavy feet and an even heavier heart, started to shuffle her way back to her chambers.

Khari suddenly stopped, arms crossed, head hung low as her eyes stared at the floor. One of the men stepped in front of Khari and put a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve been pretty quiet,” he said. “How are you holding up?”

She slowly faced the four men that had made up Azim’s most loyal inner circle. Tears streamed down her face, and her body trembled as she looked at them accusingly. “How can you stand there and ask me how I’m doing?! You were his men! His soldiers! You were supposed to watch over him, keep him safe!” she screamed, her voice echoing off the walls of the stables, causing a few horses to neigh in response.

The air in the room seemed to thin as they all bowed their heads, their lips uttered a collective apology, “We are sorry, Princess Khari.” In a solemn promise, they said, “We will find him.”

Her chest constricted as she gasped in response to the suddenness of being called ‘princess.’ She was filled with a strange mixture of emotions—fear, sadness, joy. “That’s the first time someone addressed me as the princess.” She sank down onto a dusty bale of hay, legs wobbling beneath her weight. Painful memories rushed over her, and she murmured, “I’m scared, and I’m all alone…again.” she said.

The men exchanged glances before one of them stepped forward and slowly squatted down until he was at eye level with her. He looked her in the eye and said, “No matter what happens, you’re not alone. General Azim made us promise to always look after you and make sure you’re safe.”

“He did?” Khari’s eyes filled with tears as she surveyed the men, all of whom nodded solemnly in response to her question.

“Yes,” the man replied.

She paused, her lips quivering as her chin fell towards her chest. A tear streamed down her cheek as she whispered, “Now, I miss him even more.”

The stern-faced men stood in a semi-circle, the moonlight casting long shadows on the ground. After a few moments of tense silence, the man spoke again. “We will find him, Khari,” he said firmly. “We promise.”

The men all raised their hands to their chests in salute, eyes misty with emotion as they responded, “Hooooo,” in unison.

She listened intently to the sound of their voices, filled with optimism and hope, and she felt like a weight was lifted from her chest. She stood up and brushed the straw from her clothes with renewed resolve. She was going to find Azim, no matter what it took.

* * *

Khari stepped onto her balcony, her eyes immediately drawn to the moon as a gentle breeze rustled her hair. She was so lost in thought that she didn’t even hear the knock at her door until it started again. She opened it to find Wren standing in the hallway. He looked concerned and shifted his weight from foot to foot as he said, “You’ve been hiding away in here for days.”

“What do you want, Wren?” she asked.

He stood in the doorway, a crease between his brows, and whispered, “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” his sincerity evident.

Her eyes narrowed as she studied his face, trying to decode the subtle nuances of his expression. “Worried?” she asked, her voice tinged with suspicion. “Are you sure you’re not happy?”

His voice wavered as he asked, “Why would I be happy?” he asked, “My brother is missing, and you’re in pain. That’s the last thing I want.”

Khari shook her head, struggling to keep her tears at bay. Her voice was barely a whisper. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Sadness and anger are warring with each other in my heart. I don’t know what to think or how to feel.” Her entire body trembled, and she could no longer fight back the tears as she finally let her sorrow overwhelm her.

Wren stepped in front of her and slowly enveloped her in an embrace. He felt the sobs wrack her body as he spoke soothingly in her ear, assuring her, “It’ll be okay,” he said. “We’ll find him.” He ran a hand up and down her back, trying to provide whatever comfort he could.

Wren was transfixed as she pulled away, the tears that had been streaming down her face now a glistening trail draining into her collar. Embarrassed, she swiped at them with the back of her hand and tried to regain her composure. “Thank you, Wren,” she said, her voice wavering. “Your support has meant so much to me during this tough time.”

“Of course. I’m here for you. Nothing more needs to be said between us,” he said with a comforting smile, his eyes full of sympathy. “Tonight, I’ll give you some space, but tomorrow morning I expect to see you downstairs for breakfast.”

“I’m not ready to face others,” Khari said.

“Okay. Then I’ll set up an intimate breakfast for the two of us in the gardens. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. We can sit in silence and enjoy each other’s company. I only want you to eat and maybe get some sunlight.” His whole face softened into a genuine smile, and his eyes began to crease as he looked at her, his own little way of expressing affection.

She offered a gentle, understanding smile. “One step at a time,” she said encouragingly, her voice steady and reassuring. “I’ll be there.”

“Excellent,” he beamed before he bade her farewell. He strode across the palace to his bedroom, latching the door securely behind him with a click. He glided to his tall wardrobe and grabbed a brass torch from the top shelf. With a scratching sound, he slid the piece of furniture to the right, revealing a hidden doorway. He sparked the torch to life before stepping through. He paused and cranked a large, rusty wheel to his left, locking the wardrobe back in its place against the wall. He stepped into the darkness and descended the winding stone steps cautiously. The air was thick and musty; the only source of light was the flickering touch in his hands. His boots scraped against the damp stone floors as he slowly walked deeper into the castle. He approached a large wooden door and inserted an old, tarnished key into the heavy lock. It clicked open, revealing the shadows and stench of a dank dungeon as he strode past barred cells until he reached the end.

He cautiously peered into the dank cell, torch in hand. “Hello, brother,” The flame illuminated the walls, and he directed it to the corner of the room before setting it into a holder on the wall. “I must apologize that I haven’t had time to come to see you until now. I had to be careful.” He pulled an old wooden chair to the front of the cell and plopped down heavily. His eyes darted around the room, and he sighed. “Do you remember when we stumbled across these forgotten prisons beneath the castle when we were younger?” His voice was still tinged with awe from their childhood discovery, “We were so foolish to think we were brave, but we were scared out of our wits and promised never to speak of it again.” He laughed softly before taking a deep breath, his gaze full of nostalgia, “Ahhhh, memories.”

Azim slowly stepped out of the shadows, his features slowly emerging in the orange light of the torch. His warm expression faded as he looked at his brother, his face now tense and serious. “I underestimated you, brother,” he said firmly. “It won’t happen again.”

Wren held his head up high and smiled a crooked grin as he declared, “It’s amazing what people will overlook when they underestimate you. I had the upper hand the whole time, which made it much easier to get the drop on you.”

Azim’s brow furrowed as he stared at Wren. He extended his arms through the cold iron bars of the jail cell and leaned against them with a sigh, “I wasn’t expecting you to make a move on my wedding night,” he said. “Sleeping powder in my drink. The most cowardly way to get the upper hand.”

Wren’s eyes glinted with defiance, “Insult me all you want,” he said with a shrug, “At the end of the day, you’re in there, and I’m out here free as a bird.”

Azim frowned, his voice tinged with concern. “Do you really think this plan will work?” he asked. “No matter what, you still won’t be King.”

Wren pounded his fists on the wooden armrest of the chair and shouted, “I am meant to be King! I was born to be, always have been!” He glared fiercely ahead, his lips set in determination and his green eyes blazing.

Azim’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the cold metal bars, his voice rising with each word. “Do you think I care about being King?” his hold loosened, and desperation colored his voice. “Where is Khari?! Is she okay?”

Wren’s lips curled into a sneer as he spoke, his voice cold and calculating. “She’s fine,” he said dismissively. “She’ll get over you. When I become King…having Khari will be a bonus,” his eyes glinted with a sinister glee as he imagined his future.

Azim narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists. “That’s the difference between you and me. I’d give up my title as King in a heartbeat if it meant Khari would be safe. Nothing else matters to me.”

Wren crossed his arms, his body language giving away his skepticism. “I get it,” he said, the words dripping with nonchalance. “You really love her.”

Azim nervously crossed his arms across his chest as he stared at his brother, desperately trying to read his emotions. His stomach twisted in fear as he spoke. “I thought you cared for her too,” Azim said, hoping that was still true. His brother wouldn’t hurt Khari if he cared, but she could be in danger if that were no longer the truth.

Wren tilted his head back slightly, deep in thought, his brows furrowed as his eyes grew distant. His normally soft lips were pressed into a thin line, and his voice was icy cold as he spoke. “There are still some feelings left, but most of it was destroyed when she chose you.” His voice wavered slightly, and he cleared his throat before continuing. “No matter. A mourning widow is much easier to seduce.” With that, he stood and turned on his heel, silently leaving the room.

“Wren,” Azim said softly, halting his movements. Wren turned back to him as Azim’s voice hung in the air like a noose. His gaze hardened, and his voice was a menacing growl, “When I get out of here,” he said slowly, “I’m going to make you regret ever crossing me.”