Stuck

Wren gingerly placed his hand on top of hers, which was resting on his chest. She could feel his heart pounding beneath her skin, the intensity of their closeness overwhelming her. He said softly, “Please don’t apologize. You have to do what is best for you.” She looked away, and Wren gently tucked a finger under her chin to bring her gaze back to him. He whispered, “And if that means marrying me to protect yourself, then so be it.”

“Maybe you’re right,” she said.

He looked at her with a sad attempt to play martyr, his mouth twitching as he tried to stifle a smirk. “Unfortunately, I am,” he replied.

“I just don’t have the energy for this right now,” she said weakly. “Can’t we talk about it later?”

Wren’s smile was so wide it looked like it might split his face in two. “Of course,” he said, watching her retreating figure. At that moment, he felt like everything he’d ever wanted was finally within his reach.

* * *

Wren practically skipped back to his chambers, happiness boiling in his stomach. He hastily entered his room, locked the door, and bounded down the steps leading to the old dungeons. His chest swelled with pride and accomplishment as he stepped into the dimly lit chamber and saw Azim perched in the corner like a dark specter. A smirk spread across Wren’s face as he strode forward and said, “Evening, brother.”

Azim’s face was drawn, and his deep brown eyes seemed to be searching for a way out of an impossible situation. His voice was low and raspy as he asked, “What do you want now?”

His face lit up as he proclaimed, “Guess what? Khari agreed to marry me!”

“Crazy and delusional,” Azim replied calmly, picking a smooth stone and throwing it against the prison wall. His movements were swift and sure as the rock ricocheted off the brick.

“I’m telling the truth,” he said, pressing his palms against the cold steel bars and leaning in, “We kissed just moments ago.”

Azim paused, his arm pulled back to hurl the rock against the wall once more. He glared at Wren before him, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he gritted his teeth. “You’re lying,” he growled, accusation dripping from each word.

“I’m not,” Wren said, his voice low and pointed to the corner of his lips. “See this here? Her lipstick.” He ran his hand down the front of his shirt and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, “And I can still smell her perfume on my clothes….”

Azim inhaled deeply, catching the sweet and delicate floral aroma that lingered in the air around them. At the same time, they both uttered the name of the fragrance, “….Jasmine.” The fact that Khari had kissed Wren made his heart drop, but he didn’t want to show it. He kept his face neutral as he spoke, “Well, it looks like you got what you wanted after all.”

“I always get what I --” Wren’s boast was interrupted as a thick, hardwood battle club cracked against the back of his skull, sending him sprawling. In a moment of stunned confusion, Wren’s eyes crisscrossed before he collapsed to the ground, his vision going dark.

Azim’s eyes widened as he saw Khari standing there, hands on her hips and a sly smirk playing on her lips. “Don’t tell me you actually believed him,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement.

“Khari!” Azim exclaimed, “What are you doing here?”

“Getting you out!” she said, dropping the heavy club and rummaging through Wren’s pockets, “Who knew all those weapons you keep in our room would come in handy.”

Azim stood still, watching her fumbling through the pockets of Wren’s shirt and pants, his mind racing. Tension swirled around him as he remembered the words he heard moments before. He knew there were more pressing matters at hand, but he couldn’t ignore the comment gnawing in the back of his mind and heart, “He said you kissed him.” He studied her face, searching for traces of guilt, but couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

Her fingers fumbled in the inner pocket of his jacket until they finally grazed something cold and metal. Her triumphant grin grew wider as she pulled out the key. She stood up, pushing strands of hair out of her face, and then said with a smirk, “I had to make it believable,” she said, trying to reassure him. “How else was I going to get this key to his bedroom?” She twirled another key around her index finger like a miniature lasso.

He watched her curiously as she walked purposely across the room, her steps echoing off the old concrete walls. She knelt before the heavy metal door and deftly worked the key into the lock. “He’s so full of himself,” she muttered, “He would have realized something was off if I didn’t play along.” She gritted her teeth and pushed her weight against the large key, her knuckles white against the rust. She could feel it move ever so slightly in the lock before freezing solid. Still, she persisted in her efforts, working the jagged metal edge back in forth and the padlock before twisting the key, “I suspected him from the start, and so did your men.” Azim let out a deep chuckle filled with admiration and surprise as she told him her plan, “I had to make him think that he was making progress with me.” She met his curious gaze with a look of self-satisfaction, her eyes sparkling with pride and a mischievous glint, “You’re stuck with me forever, Prince Azim.”

He watched her patiently and with awe as she carefully worked the lock. The warmth of her skin, the intensity of her concentration, and her fragrance of her filled him with joy. A gentle smile touched his lips as he murmured, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”