Mina hastens her pace, constantly glancing behind her at the mysterious woman. She loses her footing, pushing the people in front of her. Her bag flew open, throwing its contents to the ground. The broken bottles splash odorous liquids on the surrounding people.

A short man turns around, the odour touching his nose. "Watch it! Filthy slave girl! " He regards her. "Are you even supposed to use the road?" Another man in the crowd that was now forming fumed. She quickly gets on her knees to gather her things. She reaches out to grab a cup when a pair of worn-out dusty orange sandals appear, all muddy and soggy. They started to disappear into a large jubbeh, which folded as the person got on the ground. "Sorry..." His stiff voice startled her a bit. I picked up some unbroken bottles and bandages.

She didn't dare look at him nor even talk back, ashamed of his kindness. "You are making a scene. Get up, leave her." the short man urges from the crowd. Before he could continue addressing her, a hand wrapped tightly around her arm. It pulled her up vigorously, dropping whatever she had collected.

Her eyes shifted up and there she was, the same stranger she was running away from. "Sorry gentlemen, I see my careless slave has caused you trouble." The woman's raspy, firm voice made the man stand. "No worries, Khala, the girl just tripped, no harm done." He defended He offered Mina what he salvaged; his familiar dark charcoal eyes, reflecting the smile underneath his veil. Mina looked at him curiously, wondering who he could be.

The woman lets her go. Mina accepts the things from him, replacing them in her bag. "Thank you." The woman jumps in again as the crowd separates. Mina starts to walk away but the woman holds her back. She takes her hand and starts dragging her. Mina digs her toes into the packed sand, unwilling to move. She jerked her hand, but little did it move. Her throat became numb after inhaling the odors, so she couldn't scream. They entered a small shop; upfront, an array of skins hung by order of different animals. Those of poor quality were laid out on stalls.

The smell of leather oozed out, irritating her throat even further.

Once inside, she threw her to the ground, where more piles of skins were stacked. Landing directly on her fours, she toppled over a few. "What do you want? Let me go! " Mina bellows loudly at her "Is that any way to greet your mama?" The woman's voice came up to match hers, "my mama?" Mina shouts back as the woman's hand lands on her bare cheek, her roughed up scarf long abandoned her face. The rings on her feeble fingers gave the blow its desired effect.

"Hush little girl, we are going home." She commanded."Where are you?" Mina was clearly upset and confused, the slap toning down her voice to almost a whisper. "You are a crazy lady." Please, I thank you for saving me, but I really need to get back to my master. " Mina pleaded with her. The woman laughed so loudly that she almost choked. The laugh was muffled by the heavy veil. "Well, look at how you've grown." "Excuse me." They both turned to look at the one who was interrupting them. It was the same charcoal-eyed man. "I am sorry, but your careless slave forgot this.

" He extends his hand; in it is a small pocket knife that Mina carried around for protection. "I am not her slave. I don't even know this woman." He curiously looked at the woman, then back to Mina. The old woman takes the knife from him. Shukria, young man. "She looked at him, waiting for him to leave. Mina's eyes pleaded with him, praying he would buy her words.

She now noticed his faded jubbeh, the multiple rips and tears. Only the one on his shoulder drew her attention, highlighted with a fresh bloodstain. He picked up one of the skins and threw it to the old woman. Then he reached for one of the ropes used to hang the skins and tied it around her waist. "Run, hurry run!" Mina stared at him as he finished his task, then took off, urging her to follow. She gathered her bag and got up and running. She did not stop to look back even once until she was safely inside the castle walls.

She was about to take a breather.

when Munir came out of his room. "What did I tell you about your morning walks?" Munir mocks, walking to the east wall, his eyes gliding through the shelves. "I am sorry, kaka Munir, please don't be angry," she blurted out. Years passed, and yet she still was not used to him treating her as an equal. If it was the constant reminder of who she truly was or out of mere respect, It challenged her, how the lashes struck her dear friend, like the first rain on the bare soil, eroding its jubilance and sheen. Yet the same for her would yield to an exchange of opinion.

Ya Mina, I fear for you. Do not go around getting into trouble. Mina sighs, "But kaka, I simply went for a walk with Manal." Munir stares at the row, carefully searching for something. "People can't be trusted, Mina. Don't forget that." Mina hung her bag on a rack behind the door, where Munir kept his leather belts of swords. "Oh, before I forget, I need you to wash some clothes. I have kept the basket in your room." Mina straightened out her dusty yellow jubbeh and went to her room. She finds the basket right in front of her bed; the same one that seemed so luxurious to her the first time. Now she views it as one of her many unnecessary comforts.

Groups of maids and helpers flashed about the hallways one after the other. This one was carrying a load of clothes, one a stock of armoury, another a basket of dried fruit, their feet heavily pounding on the poor tiles. marching back and forth to the usual work rhythm. Every time her mind would drift off to the fine, mysterious pair of charcoal eyes, then the old hag would drag her back to the present. The crowd started shifting, people squeezing themselves against the walls to make a path. Everyone stood still, all their heads bowed to the ground as the arrogant royal passed through. In all her time in the castle, Mina never had the privilege of meeting the most ruthless person in all of Madiyan. At least that is what Manal calls him. "( Even the king himself is no match for his own son.

But no one actually knows for sure, as the Prince is always locked up or on a mission somewhere. The few who have met him tell terrible stories about him. They say when he was a child, he killed his own cat. How heartless! Once his cobbler was asked about him, he said it was like dealing with Iblis himself. For this reason, people fear their fates because they know the worst is yet to come. That is why we never speak of him. You have been warned, Mina. " She would tell her whenever the topic came up.

A group of soldiers passed by, assuming a ring position to shield their prince. A minute passed before she loaded her basket back on her head, supporting it with her hand for balance. Her ears picked up the usual gossip from the others. She heard the same news being repeated constantly. One would say, "They want to change tradition?" Another one answers her but in a different conversation, "They want to change." This time, the princesses are to be invited to Mahdiya. They say it's too dangerous for the royals to go on a trip when the kingdom is on the verge of a war outbreak. " Someone from the back interrupted, "Oh, that is going to bring bad luck to us." Then a slave said, "We are doomed anyway." A grumpy head maid jumps in. "All of you tie up those loose mouths! You are here to work! " Mina turns a sharp corner into another small hallway leading to the south wing. She entered the third door on her right.

Her feet were stomping on puddles of soap, soaking the helm of her jubbeh. She spotted an empty place among a group of young women and squeezed her way to assume it. "Look at her, coming in here like she owns the place." A base voice announced, "I really liked Khalid more." A small servant commented, dreamily staring into the distance, adding more detergent to the already soapy bundle, "The cheerful young man was very charming. "( A wide-eyed slave agrees. "I'm sure he's grown very handsome," the low-voiced one added. "Stop it!" Another slave gives orders.slapping her dirty clothes into the water as they laughed.

A creek silences them, along with all the other gossip. The high-headed maiden was a small-tiered lady in a plain blue silk dress, loose against her well-maintained aged figure. Her hair was tied in the common braided bun tucked away inside a matching scarf. She was the oldest servant in the castle, her service to the royal family going back to the large war.

She saw the late queen's birth and served her until her apparent death, after which she took responsibility for the young prince. Everyone adored her; she was the role model for every slave girl and maid, no matter how small. Behind her were two guards in their uniforms. She looks around, choosing precisely three girls from each basin. From tall to small, dark and fair, she looked like she knew exactly who she was looking for. At Mina's basin, first she chose the wide-eyed slave, then the small servant, and lastly Mina. "Those chosen are to meet at the gathering hall after lunch." Her old shaky voice commandeered the silence. Soon after she announces her plans, she walks out.