I sat in my room on a comfortable Spring evening, admiring the braid Zaima had fashioned my hair into that morning. It held nicely, and she’d told me that it could make my waves re-crimp in a way I’d find lovely. Of all the people in the palace, she was secretly my favorite. A young girl who had a calm demeanor, as eerily calm as Idris’, but was more than happy to dish all of her personal opinions to me behind closed doors. She was someone who told me of the inner-workings of the palace; who was visiting, who was leaving, what was happening in the academic classrooms as noble children learned our history—the teachers who’d snap at them, or chide them gently. Zaima was born and raised here in the palace; her mother a refugee from down south. Mother begged the Courts-Men to let her stay, taking she and her mother under her own wing. Mother’s kindness never ceased to amaze me.

A gentle rasp at my door sent me to my feet, as the sky donned a light pink hue. I was more on edge than usual, having forced myself to suffer two nights without sleep. If I didn’t sleep, I couldn’t dream. If I couldn’t dream, I’d be spared the recollection of Shahin’s voice and the memories of his brutality. During those two days, I highly contemplated if it was worth it. A part of me missed that tiny palace, how the chilled air nipped at my skin. The way the snow fell perfectly along the window panes, stacking up inch by inch until we were all but snowed in. The only way for me to feel a semblance of that chill was to rest my eyes, but Shahin’s voice was a horror too grizzly to bear.

“Abyad!” I exclaimed, thoroughly surprised to see him standing in the doorway once I opened the door. The smile that lined my lips was genuine as I studied his features. He had such long legs, and dense muscle. I still couldn’t quite wrap my mind around tiny Idris turning into the hulking man in front of me. Turning into Abyad.

He greeted me wordlessly, smiling gently at me as I let him in. The left side of his smile twitched faintly, and I had to purposefully mind my steps as I made my way back to the vanity. He looked tired, like he’d been awake longer than I had. Sitting myself back down on the stool cautiously, Abyad sat down in his armchair. He watched as I picked up a pair of tweezers intently, as if I were showing him a sacred art.

“Hala,” he said, his voice softer; more supple than usual as it hit my ears. “I have a question for you.”

I paused my grooming, meeting his eyes in the reflection of the mirror. So calm. So still. His blue eyes watched me with a steadiness unrivaled.

“Yes?” I asked.

From his pocket, he brought out something that shimmered in the glow of sunset. Gold. Out of pure interest, I turned around deliberately to eye the fine chain he held in his hands. When his eyes fell to the chain, they filled with a horrifying disdain.

“Do you recognize this necklace?” He asked, his voice still buttery.

I offered my own hand out with a bemused expression, taking the delicate chain in it and studying the charm that hung at the bottom. An iris. I thumbed the pendant with my free hand, tracing its sad petals with my fingernail. It sent a bitter taste to my mouth—after all these years, I still detested the scrawny flowers.

“No.” I scoffed. “You know I hate Irises. Why would I know of this necklace?”

A scornful smile lined his lips, perplexing me even more as I offered the necklace back to him. I watched him closely, as he put it back in his pocket. Slowly, I faced the mirror once more and took the tweezers back into my left hand. As if I were an artist, I began preening my appearance once more.

“I found it and wanted to ask if you knew who it belonged to, that’s all.” He muttered, covering his mouth with his hand. He looked down to his left, studying the carpet beneath the chair he sat on as he leaned back in the chair.

“Was there anything else you had to ask?” My tone was a bit jaded, maybe from the lack of sleep—maybe because I truly hated Irises that much.

“Nope. Just came to bother you.” He said, his eyes squinting a bit in the reflection. He was smiling beneath that hand.

I shot him a look of feigned annoyance, pretending to be upset by his presence. His eyes squinted more in response, that smile widening even more. He let out a small breath, a laugh, as he watched me pluck a hair. His voice shifted to Mahsulah as he spoke next, his voice twinged with yearning.

“Is it so bad that I wanted to see you, beloved?”

I nearly dropped the tweezers. He didn’t know I could understand him—and in the weeks since I’d heard him slip back into that habit of his: I understood every single word. He was completely oblivious to it. I swallowed harshly, hoping I hadn’t given away my understanding of the language.

“I hate when you do that.” I snarked.

“It’s not my fault that you’ve been paying more attention to your eyebrows than to relearning your mother tongue.” He chastised, switching tongues. The way he spoke both languages was beautiful, his voice a string of melodies as he spoke.

“Is it so bad that I have priorities?” I teased. My eyes lit with amusement, I missed bantering with him.

He switched tongues again, sure to keep his hand lightly cupped to his mouth.

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“Your beauty doesn’t need such devotion.”

I plucked another hair as he spoke, steeling my resolve with all the strength I had. It was like he was teasing me, and he didn’t even know it. I eyed him in my reflection with simmering frustration, aimed at no one but myself for being so intent with keeping my proficiency a secret. He clicked his tongue, drawing the hand from his face as it fell to the arm of the chair.

“You should be more concerned with your mind, not your face.” He jabbed in Otlank.

I shrugged my shoulders, still feigning ignorance to his prior statement.

“I’m fine, Abyad.” I said with more of an edge than I’d hoped.

He leaned on his knees, his eyes steadying on me with intense focus, studying my features with high scrutiny.

“You’re not. You still have those dreams, Hala. Did you even sleep last night?” He asked, concern lining his tone.

“I slept…” I lied. “My back was bothering me. It was a difficult night’s rest.”

He shot me a look that said ‘Liar,’ as he leaned back into the chair. “I can tell when you’re lying.” He replied.

I didn’t like how those words made me feel. “I’m no liar.” I grumbled.

I’m no liar.

I heard Shahin echoing those words as he sliced into me, the memory jarring me enough to make me put the tweezers down entirely.

“You’re doing a great job of bothering me.” I snapped at him. His eyebrows raised in whimsy, and he nodded his head upwards.

“Good, then I’m doing my job right.” He said as something glinted in his eyes. The glimmer faded as he switched tongues once more.

“If I don’t, then who will?” He sounded pained as those words left his lips, and I was wishing I could swallow my pride and admit I understood him, already. But I had certain words I couldn’t force myself to utter, or comprehend. The emotions grew to a fever pitch within me as I stood from the stool, walking to my closet and eyeing the different fabrics.

I wasn’t entirely sure why I’d walked in there. Perhaps it was a desire to flee the overwhelming emotions gurgling within me, or maybe it was in an attempt to find a disguise to sneak away from Abyad in. I snatched a shawl, totally useless in the middle of spring, and wrapped it around my shoulders as I walked out of the closet. I marched up to the balcony doors, pushing on the lever and pressing my weight into it as it all but swung open. The air was cooler than the air in that room, perhaps the shawl wasn’t entirely useless. I heard footsteps behind me, heavy and slow as they clicked against the marble flooring.

It’s not him. It’s not him. I repeated to myself. The lack of sleep was my enemy in that moment, as a large hand met my shoulder. I almost leapt out of my skin.

Another murmur in Mahsulah: “This isn’t normal, Dear.”

I sucked my teeth, feeling my cheeks and lips suction against them as my heart was beating in thunderous claps. My nose twinged with pins and needles. It was like no matter how hard I protested it, Shahin’s presence was stained into me. Deeper than wine. Deeper than glass. Deeper than the blood that ran in cold flashes through my body. I was always surrounded by him.

“Let’s get a better view.” Abyad said in Otlank. He waved his hand towards himself as he walked to the other end of the balcony and turned his back to me. Another invitation up to the roof.

I approached him hesitantly, reaching one hand up towards his shoulders, then the other, until I clung onto him. He was crouched slightly, and took my thighs between his hands. The feeling sent my skin humming, and my mind whirring. I was rigid as ice by the time we made it up on the roof. He did it so gracefully, I almost hadn’t realized we’d moved from the balcony until I saw the silhouette of the bell tower from a higher perch. Abyad crouched down again, and let go of my legs. They fell slack, my weight luckily supporting myself on them as I forced my grip to release his neck.

“How do you do it?” I asked once we sat atop the roof, watching as the pink hue in the sky shifted to a more burnt shade of orange.

“Do what?” He asked coolly. “Look so good all the time?”

I loosed a breath of laughter, and shook my head. The boy who used to sit on that roof beside me never would have uttered such a response, but the man beside me now had every right to.

“No, Abyad.” I replied.

“How do you move so freely? You used to be as clumsy as a spiked-back panda, now you’re…” My eyes shifted from the sky to his corded arms, the soft white tunic he wore was hugging him graciously—as if blessed to be an article of his clothing. “You move so easily.”

Abyad smiled, his eyes still planted firmly on the sky. From here, we could see the piers from a distance. “I just can.” He shrugged.

I pouted, bringing my knees to my chest and feeling every movement. The muscles of my back pulled like thousand-pound chains, quiet snarls of pain rippling through my spine. “It’s not fair.” I replied.

I missed being limber, and having my full range of motion. More than that, I missed being a child; a time when I was eager to give my love out to others without the biting anger that loomed over me at all times. Abyad kept his eyes on the sun as it danced off of the water. I peeked over at him, admiring him in that form. I couldn’t fathom how such a man could speak under his breath, saying such kind things to me. The way he called me Themaz—it wasn’t out of friendship. Not with the tone he used. A man so deathly handsome loving me was something beyond my realm of comprehension. But there he was, moments ago, using the term as if wedded to me. I almost physically recoiled at the thought. Marriage—that was the imprisonment I’d been sent to with Shahin. Those cold, beady eyes flashed in my mind as they glimmered with dark amusement.

“How is Father?” I asked, forcing my mind away from the memory.

“He’s holding up.” Abyad replied tersely.

“And Uncle?”

“The same…”

I nodded, trying desperately to keep my mind from its survival instinct. I was a freezer, not a fighter. I fawned, at times, but I always felt how my body locked up when I remembered Shahin. The air had grown stiff and awkward, as we sat there. I kept my eyes fixed on him, my left hand traveling to the small of my back.

I always poked the same spot, that same wound beneath my bandages, when feeling cornered nowadays. It was where the second cut had been made—the cut deeper than the rest, reminding me of my worthlessness. Small blades of pain shot up the mostly-healed laceration, sending adrenaline coursing through me. It was all I could do to keep my eyes from growing too heavy. Sunset wasn’t a time for peace, it was when I was counting down the moments until…

“Is something the matter?” Abyad asked, his eyes meeting mine. He kept a neutral expression, as the amber light illuminated his profile.

“No…” I replied. “I was just thinking.”

“That’s never a good thing.” He said, a half-smile playing at his lips.

I rolled my eyes, fixing my gaze back onto the sky.