Malin stepped into the room, and before he could say a word, Nahra rushed forward, throwing her arms around him in a fierce embrace. His breath caught as he held her, feeling the warmth and strength of her presence, a brief moment of comfort that felt almost too perfect. After a heartbeat, Nahra pulled back, a faint blush colouring her cheeks as she tried to maintain a serious expression.
"Malin Osuninya," she said, her voice carrying a mix of affection and scolding, "do you have any idea how reckless that was? Barging into the throne room, practically demanding my hand… You could have been killed!”
He grinned, leaning in just a bit closer, his voice playful. "Well, I think it was worth the risk to see that look on Aza’s face. Besides, you wouldn’t want me to be too sensible. Where’s the fun in that?”
Nahra’s exasperation melted into a reluctant smile, her eyes softening as she looked at him. She shook her head, unable to hide her amusement. “You’re impossible, Malin.”
He shrugged, flashing her a grin. "I've been told that's part of my charm.”
She rolled her eyes, laughing softly before taking his hand and leading him further into the room. As he looked around, he was struck by the elegance of her chambers. Silks in warm, rich colours draped across the walls, and the scent of jasmine and myrrh filled the air, blending with the faintest breeze that slipped through the open balcony doors.
She guided him toward the balcony, where the city of Bulsi-Jan stretched out before them in the golden glow of the setting sun. Malin stepped forward, leaning against the stone rail as he took in the view from this new, elevated perspective. He could see the winding canals, the bustling markets, the lively streets he’d always known—yet from here, everything looked like a mosaic of colors and life.
"It’s… different from up here," he murmured, more to himself than to her. He cast a sidelong glance at Nahra, a playful smile flickering across his lips. "Seems I finally get to see Bulsi-Jan from a different angle. Instead of looking up at the palace, I can look back down at where I came from."
Nahra smiled, her eyes reflecting the fading light as she gazed at the city below. "That’s the beauty of your perspective, Malin. While we see the kingdom from above, you see it with a connection I’ll never fully understand.” Her hand found his, their fingers intertwining naturally as they both looked over the city, a shared silence falling between them.
The sunset bathed everything in shades of amber and gold, casting a soft glow over Nahra’s dress, which shimmered with the delicate light. Malin felt his heart skip a beat, taking in the sight of her—her hair catching the breeze, her eyes reflecting the sky, and her smile gentle, yet full of strength. In that moment, he saw not just Nahra, but the Princess, her grace and beauty leaving him in awe.
She turned to him, noticing the way he looked at her, and smiled softly. "What?”
He shook his head, a breathless laugh escaping him. “It’s just… I’ve never really seen you like this before.” He tightened his hand around hers, savouring the warmth and quiet connection between them. “It’s like I’m seeing all of you for the first time.”
She laughed softly, her eyes searching his. “And I’m seeing all of you, too, Malin. Even if I’m afraid for you… I think I finally understand.”
They stood there together, their hands interlaced, looking over Bulsi-Jan as the last rays of sunlight brushed across the horizon, casting a beautiful glow on the city they both called home. The wind caught Nahra’s hair, sweeping it to the side as she looked at him, her expression open, her presence calming.
In that instant, all the fears and uncertainties fell away. They were simply Nahra and Malin, a princess and a baker, bound by something deeper than words. And for the first time, Malin felt he could hold onto this moment, carry it with him on his journey, no matter how far it took him.
Malin took a deep breath, steadying himself as he turned to Nahra and explained the mission the Sultan had entrusted him with. Her eyes widened, a flicker of fear flashing across her face as she listened, understanding the perilous path he was about to walk. Despite the anxiety evident in her gaze, Nahra nodded, knowing this was their only hope—a chance for them to have a life together.
"Stay here," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly as she looked at him. “I have something for you.”
Before he could respond, she turned and disappeared deeper into her chambers. Moments later, she returned, clutching a worn map and a small, intricately designed compass. She pressed them into his hands, her words rushing out in a flurry as she pointed to the various markings and paths. “This will guide you to the city. The compass—it belonged to my mother—it always finds the right direction if you trust it. And the map… I marked the best paths to take through the desert, places where you might find water, and—”
As Nahra continued her explanations, her eyes bright and her voice filled with earnestness, Malin found himself watching her intently. She was stunning, her beauty magnified by the earnest care she poured into every word. The way she worried for him, the delicate way her brow furrowed in thought, her lips moving as she rambled on—it struck him that this could very well be the last moment they shared together.
Acting on impulse, Malin gently took her hand, stopping her mid-sentence. Without another thought, he leaned in and kissed her, softly but with all the feeling he had kept inside. For a moment, she froze, her eyes wide in surprise. But then, slowly, she melted into the kiss, her hand finding its way to his cheek as they held each other against the backdrop of the fading sun.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
As they parted, Nahra looked at him, her cheeks flushed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Malin…”
He grinned, still close enough to see the starlight in her eyes. “I couldn’t take the risk of leaving without that.”
She smiled, still breathless, and her voice softened with a hint of playful reproach. “That kiss is supposed to be for our wedding, Malin.”
He chuckled, his voice low. “I know… but I just couldn’t help myself.”
Nahra’s blush deepened, but she couldn’t hold back a smile as she leaned closer, clearly considering a second kiss. Just as their lips were about to meet again, a polite cough interrupted them.
They both turned to see Maya standing there, arms crossed with an amused yet slightly exasperated expression. “I hate to break up the moment, but anything more than that might need to be saved for after the wedding,” she teased.
Malin and Nahra broke into laughter, the tension easing as they shared a glance. Still holding her hand, he looked at her with a depth of emotion that made his voice falter. “Goodbye, Nahra. I’ll come back. I promise.” He squeezed her hand one last time, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.
Nahra’s eyes softened, and with a tender smile, she replied, “Goodbye, Malin… my hero. I’ll be waiting.”
Their fingers slowly parted, each holding onto the touch for as long as possible. He took a step back, and she nodded, her hands clasped close to her heart as she whispered, “I’ll pray for you every day. Come back to me, my baker turned knight.”
With one last look, Malin turned and walked away, feeling her gaze on him, urging him forward. He didn’t look back, his mind set on the mission ahead, but the warmth of her love stayed with him, a guiding light against the uncertain journey he was about to face.
Nahra watched as Malin disappeared through the doorway, her heart a mix of hope and fear. Turning to Maya, she took a steadying breath, her voice firm. “Maya… I need you to send a message to Abel.”
Maya’s eyes widened, surprise and concern flashing across her face. “Abel? You want to send for your brother?” She glanced back toward the door and then met Nahra’s gaze, her confusion evident. “Nahra, you can’t be serious.”
Nahra nodded, her expression determined. “I am serious, Maya. Malin may have a map and a compass, but that won’t be enough. He’s not the strongest man in this world, and this journey will be far more dangerous than he realises. He’ll need you with him the entire way if he’s to survive.”
Maya crossed her arms, her exasperation clear. “I’m your guard, Nahra. My duty is to protect you—not him. What will your father say? I can’t just leave you unguarded.”
Nahra reached out, placing a gentle hand on her friend’s arm, her voice pleading. “Please, Maya. I’ll find someone to guard me in your absence, but Malin won’t make it without help. Abel is at Laza-Farim—he’ll be there waiting if he agrees. If you three go together, I know you can achieve this.”
Maya sighed, her eyes narrowing as she studied Nahra’s determined expression. After a moment of silence, she clicked her teeth in reluctant agreement. “Alright, I’ll go… but only as far as Carabesh; any further is suicide. I’ll deliver your letter to Abel in Laza-Farim, and I’ll stay with Malin until we reach Carabesh, but that’s it. After that, he’s on his own.”
“That’s all I ask. If you get him to Carabesh, my brother Abel will handle the rest—assuming he agrees to my request.”
Maya let out a huff, rolling her eyes. “Assuming he even reads it, let alone agree.”
Nahra gave her a grateful smile, relief evident in her eyes. “Thank you, Maya. That’s all I ask. Just… do what you can.”
With a resigned sigh, Maya extended her hand. “Alright, then. Go write your letter. I’ll make sure it reaches him in Laza-Farim.”
Nahra nodded, hurrying to her desk as she began to write, each word a plea for her brother to join Malin on this dangerous journey, hoping the three of them together would succeed where others had failed.
In the dimly lit bar of Laza-Farim, Abel Kalkan sat slouched on a bar stool, the weight of his armor offset by his relaxed, almost regal demeanor. Clad in intricate golden armor, his figure emanated a mixture of elegance and restrained ferocity, each piece of his armor bearing the emblem of his lineage. His dark hair fell in messy waves over his forehead, partly obscuring eyes that held a piercing intensity, even in his drunken state.
Beside him, perched on his lap, was a young cat-girl demi-human, her delicate features framed by soft, feline ears. She smiled at him, purring softly as she poured him another shot of potent liquor, her voice a silky whisper filled with admiration. "You really are the son of the Sultan, aren’t you?” she murmured, her tone laced with admiration, her hands tracing the edges of his golden armor. “First of his royal guard… a warrior just like your great-grandfather. That’s amazing, Abel."
Abel grinned, a lazy smirk crossing his face as he took the shot she offered, the burn of the alcohol mingling with the warmth of her presence. His demeanor was a mixture of arrogance and ease, his posture exuding both confidence and a hint of recklessness. "Amazing, huh?" he slurred slightly, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark. “It’s just the truth, darling. I was the best—still am, if you ask me. First of the royal guard, Sultan’s son…” His voice trailed off, a sense of pride evident in every word.
She cooed in response, her voice a soothing melody to his intoxicated mind. “And how does a man like you… fall from such grace?”
At her question, his expression hardened for a split second, but he quickly masked it with a scoff, his voice turning sharp. “I didn’t pay you to ask questions, sweetheart.” He smirked, giving her a playful slap on her bottom, drawing a surprised giggle from her.
Abel lifted her in his arms, unsteady on his feet but holding her close with a casual strength. “Come on, let’s not waste time here.” He gave her a cocky smile, his words slurring slightly as he added, “I’m paying for the night, after all.”
With a drunken swagger, he carried her out of the bar, his footsteps echoing in the narrow streets of Laza-Farim as he disappeared into the night, indulging in the temporary escape that both the liquor and her company offered him. Abel Kalkan—the banished first son of the Sultan—carried himself with the demeanor of a man who was both lost and unbreakable, hidden behind a mask of arrogance and charm.