Fortune Favors the Cursed
the-reticent-seer
diverselit
diverselit
1.3K5
An orphan girl with questionable morals. A scarred prince with two lives. One relic to change their world.
* * *
Badriya As-Sahra is sick of piling up camel dung and ...Chapter 17
Badriya shielded her eyes at the sun slowly rising from the horizon. Its shining rays bathed the Golden City, its spires and towers of gold sparkling like beacons beyond the city's walls.
Zarab. Zecaj's capital. She was finally here.
It all felt like a dream, but Badriya didn't have to slap herself to know it was still reality—her rear end aching from weeks of traveling by horseback was enough indication. She did escape the collapsing cave where the Jewel used to reside, and unscathed at that. And how that even happened. . . she wasn't too sure. At those moments of fear and uncertainty, everything happened so fast. One second she was running to the dark portal, and the next thing she knew, she was at the foot of the mountain with Nahar waiting for her. She wasn't even sure if she faced the Khadysians when she got out.
And now here she was. For the life of her, she never thought that she'd even step into the capital's grounds or even dream of meeting the Sultan in the flesh. Not that she was ecstatic to do the latter. She was only here to give the Jewel, take the reward, and go anywhere she wanted, preferably out of the damn country.
Badriya slowed into a stop when she reached the city's gates. The pair of enormous doors were plated with bronze from top to bottom, a large diamond figure carving through it with golden lines. A couple of guards stood on each side of the entrance. Both of them had swords strapped on the
"Halt there," one of them ordered, stepping from his post to inspect her. "State your place of origin and your business."
Badriya blinked. "Um. . . I'm from a province in the south, and I've come to give the Je—I mean, to give my family gifts!" She laughed nervously. "Yes, yes. I've come to purchase things for my family back home. They are waiting for me to get them something from the great capital."
The guard looked at her strangely. "The south, eh? You seem to be too poor to afford anything in the city. Even a simple khubz will cost you the clothes on your back, bint."
The two of them laughed. Badriya forced a wide smile, clenching her fists.
Stupid idiots. They don't know who they're talking to.
"Does that mean I can pass through?" she asked, her voice as calm as she could manage. "I am tired from my journey and can use a stay in a nice inn."
It took a moment or two for one of them to answer her. "Ayyankan. Just don't get into trouble, jameela, and you will be well on your way."
"Shukran."
As she moved her horse forward, Badriya rolled her eyes. It was wise of her to withhold her true business in the city—she suspected that the guards wouldn't believe her if she ever told them about her offering to the Sultan.
Her bitter thoughts were soon out of her mind as she went deeper into the city. Everywhere she looked were buildings that rose as high as the sky, all of them decorated in gold or bronze or some other costly material. The streets were the only things that seemed to be built out of baked mud, and those even looked spotless. The souq she had seen so far was bigger than the one in Klalasha. She bet that it could house the whole province and still have more space.
All of it was overwhelming, but she was in awe. It was simply breathtaking.
And the people. Badriya never saw so many in one place, and of different kinds. Some wore grand and colorful clothes, some didn't. And then they were ones who dressed just like her.
Like a miskeen. A poor person.
The ones she saw were few, but they did catch her attention by their incessant begging to other people passing by, who simply ignored them as if they were nonexistent. One of them even saw Badriya stop at the side of the road and shuffled towards her, her open palms raised. Her face was covered by a layer of dust, and her rags hung loosely on her slightly bony limbs.