A quick note: shorts like these will be posted periodically, with greater frequency when I’m between books. These backstories are set before the start of The Dying Sun, with minimal spoilers. Thank you for reading!
The Herald’s bell cut through the courtroom conversations. Judging from the open surprise on the Duq’s previously impassive face, no one new was expected. The setting sun poured through the curtained windows, painting the room in red and orange. There was a heavy haze from where servants had put out hookahs. The evening had been coming to a close, wine and araq had been swapped for coffee and tea. Loralee placed her tea on a nearby windowsill. She smoothed her blue and silver sari, careful not to catch the bangles on her wrists upon the delicate fabric, then maneuvered her way through the nobles to stand near the main aisle. Others seemed to have had similar thoughts. Loralee craned her neck ever so slightly to see around one of the other nobles. After sixteen natal anniversaries, Loralee was still hoping for another growth spurt. Despite being the Duq’s daughter, eager nobles hardly worried about blocking her view. Loralee realized why once the Herald spoke.
“Murkesh Kader, Ajir Messenger,” the Herald announced. Loralee’s dark brown eyes widened. Ajir? Loralee glanced towards the Duq’s throne. Her father sat upon it, a frown beneath his greying beard. The Duqa, her mother, stood beside him. When their eyes met, the Duqa raised a single well-sculpted eyebrow. Loralee bowed her head, then slipped back into the crowd. She emerged at her mother’s side as the messenger reached the middle of the room. The man was dressed in crimson red, a silver scorpion embroidered upon his breast. There was a cockiness to his posture that worried Loralee. She had never met an Ajir before. To her understanding, they rarely left Madiar. The Ajir Guards were the elite fighting force charged with protecting the Shah and his family. The Ajir Steward ran the household, and Ajir Messengers hand delivered letters of only the utmost importance.
What could possibly have happened that an Ajir needs to speak with my father? The question made Loralee’s blood run cold. A summons to Madiar could have been sent by a bird. Intentions to visit could have been sent the same way. Had Baba done something to anger Shah Mansur? Were there Royal Guard waiting in the wings?
“Welcome, Ajir,” Duq Alaziz said, his tone flat. Murkesh bowed deeply from the waist, then rose with a flourish. The man had a bright smile but it lacked a nobleman’s practiced charm.
“I bear great tidings for Abadan, for all of Shai’Khal! Mansur is dead. High Priest Alcaeus has named his son the rightful heir to the throne. Long live Merikh Madiaran, Shahanshah of Shai’Khal!” Murkesh’s voice boomed through the hall, silencing any whispers.
Dead? Loralee looked to her mother. The Duqa smiled, though Loralee could see that her eyes didn’t. Duqa Jazira always came across as a contrasting presence to the Duq. She was quick to smile, welcoming and talkative. The Duqa came off perhaps as shallow and vapid, but Loralee knew better. She saw the games her mother played. A viper hiding in a jasmine tree.
“Not Shah yet,” Alaziz said, leaning forward. “Not until the Quorum says it’s so. Tell me, Murkesh Kader, how did Mansur die?”
The messenger’s smile never faltered, despite by Alaziz’s correction. The rule of law was more important than ever when it came to succession. The Shahzade couldn’t simply claim the throne without backing of his noble council. It was the difference between succession and regicide. With the backing of the Akhenic Temple – and Merikh having no siblings – there was little chance of the Shahzade not becoming the Shah. But technicalities were important.
“How do most Shah’s die, Duq? Mansur was a tyrant, and his son put an end to it.”
“Is that really all you’re going to tell us, Bayim?” Duqa Jazira asked, her tone far sweeter and friendlier than her husband’s. “Surely you can give us a few juicy details.”
“I’m sure you’ll hear many wild rumours, Duqa, but none from my lips. Shah Merikh liberated Mansur of the crown with Amir Olumide’s support. But you’re quite right, Duq Alaziz, the Quorum has final say over who sits on the throne.”
With a grandiose wave of his hand, the messenger pulled a letter from his achkan coat. Duq Alaziz extended his hand and Murkesh approached. The letter was sealed with crimson and gold. In the center was a crown inside the Akhenic Sun. Twin rearing horses were on either side of it. The royal seal of Madiaran Shahs – not the Shahzade’s. Humility doesn’t seem to be one our new Shah’s virtues, Loralee thought.
Alaziz placed the letter on his lap, then looked up at his wife. The look exchanged Loralee couldn’t read. Duqa Jazira stepped forward, smiling brightly.
“Long live Shah Merikh!” Jazira exclaimed, raising her wine goblet. The salute was mirrored through the hall. Loralee forced a smile.
“Long live Shah Merikh,” Loralee repeated quietly. She missed the disgusted flinch from her father upon hearing her words.
After court was dismissed, Loralee found herself sitting in a council room waiting for her father. Duqa Jazira sat across from her, practically bouncing in her seat. The bangles on her wrists jingled lightly as the Duqa fidgeted with her rings.
“Is it good news, Maman?” Loralee asked, “I would have thought there would be a little more reverence regarding the death of a Shah.”
“Well, I think it is. Your father, perhaps not so much. It means we have a great deal of work to do, and I don’t know how much time left to do it. I had hoped you’d be a little older…” Jasira said. She stopped fidgeting with her rings, the Duqa becoming wistful.
Loralee scoffed.
“I’m old enough.” At sixteen, Loralee believed herself ready for anything the world could throw at her.
Whatever Jazira’s reply might have been was interrupted when the door opened. Alaziz walked in, the opened letter in his weathered hand. He crossed the room to Jazira and kissed her forehead just below the blue niqaab, then sat down at her side. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, looking first down at the letter and then up to Loralee.
“I am going to send word to the Nakanos. Your mother and I will ride with their retinue to Madiar, while you will remain here to steward Abadan in my stead,” Alaziz said.
Loralee beamed, sitting up taller in her seat.
“Will Jin come?”
“I will ask,” Alaziz said with a small chuckle.
“Don’t you have something more to add, Sayida?” Jazira chided gently, an amused look on her face.
“Thank you for the opportunity, Duq.”
It would be the first time Loralee was left alone and in charge of Abadan, the city she would one day rule on behalf of the Amir and the Shah. But she hadn’t seen Jin in what felt like years. They had so much to do, to talk about! There were new foals to show Jin – not to mention the leopard cousin Khaliq had given to her.
“That’s not all,” Jazira said with a pointed look at Alaziz. Alaziz drummed his fingers along the letter. When he seemed to struggle to find his words, Jazira rolled her eyes. She took his hand, smiled, and then looked back to Loralee.
“Your father and the last Shah came to an agreement. One that this new Shah has made clear he is at least aware of – if not considering following through with. It’s the reason I had hoped you’d be a little older when Merikh ascended to the throne.”
Loralee felt her stomach begin to turn in knots, both from excitement and dread. There were only a handful of agreements that would have concerned herself, her father, the last Shah, and their new one. Merikh was only a few years older than she was – a cause for relief. Every girl Loralee knew was petrified of being married off to a man old enough to be their grand-baba.
“Am I…” Loralee trailed off, unable to continue for fear of being wrong.
“Betrothed,” Alaziz said. “Unfortunately, yes.”
Jasira shot a glare at her husband.
“‘Fortunately’ you mean, dear. You are to become Khanum, if we play our cards correctly. Mansur was content to let this betrothal be discreet, as your father requested. Merikh knows of it. When we arrive for the Quorum, and his coronation, we will speak of it.”
“Shouldn’t I be there, then? If I’m going to be getting married –”
“No.”
Alaziz spoke sharply, silencing both women. He cleared his throat, then looked back down to the letter. Loralee frowned.
Why would you keep this from me? She thought. Loralee had plenty of friends and sycophants who were already betrothed. They had known about their betrothals for years and were merely waiting for the correct time to follow through – economically or politically. Why had she been kept in the dark about something so important? Loralee felt a flare of indignation rise in her chest.
“Why not?” Loralee demanded. “Why can’t I at least meet him before we get married?”
“Gods willing you won’t be getting married!” Alaziz snapped. Jasira rested her hand on his arm and rubbed it gently.
“Loralee,” Jasira began gently, “One day your father will tell you everything you want to know about this betrothal. You will meet the Shah before you’re married. But it will be in due time. I want to meet him first. I’m not going to let my daughter be married off to some hideous pig. Although I don’t think that will be the problem, I’ve heard he’s handsome.” Jasira winked, then laughed as Alaziz let out an exasperated sigh.
“You will remain here,” Alaziz said, “And you will keep this betrothal secret. You can understand why, yes?”
“Because the Shah hasn’t announced it?” Loralee said.
“That, and because other women hoping to become Khanum might see you killed to improve their chances.”
Loralee nodded solemnly. “I will keep quiet.”
Alaziz held her gaze, an imploring look in his eyes. Loralee smiled, leaning back into her chair a little.
“I promise, Baba. My lips are sealed.”
“Good.”
Alaziz tapped his hand once on the table before rising from his seat. Jazira followed him from the room, undoubtedly expecting Loralee to follow. She hesitated for a moment.
Khanum Loralee.
It was a title she could live with.
