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.
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Badriya As-Sahra is sick of piling up camel dung and ...Chapter 36
Ayaz hadn't left the boy's side for the last few days. Ever since he and the crew brought him into one of their many safehouses hidden throughout Zarab, the boy hadn't woken up from his slumber. Hamad, the crew's resident healer, tried using smelling salts to have him awake so he could feed him food and medicine, but even the strongest ones could only make him stir at most. So far, Hamad tended to the boy's many injuries and cleaned him up, wrapping him in bandages and even giving him a fresh set of clothes.
By then, they already got a name out of him: Rashid.
Ayaz wanted to be the first one to talk to Rashid. To ask him if he knew the same Badriya who couldn't get out of Ayaz's head ever since she left Zarab. He was aware that the boy might still not be in the best condition to be interrogated, but Ayaz had to do something. Simply waiting for his people to find any traces of her was getting on his nerves. And his nerves acting up could only mean doing something reckless.
"You sure he was talking about the same Badriya?" Idris had asked Ayaz a day later after bringing the boy in. Ayaz hadn't moved from the chair that faced their patient's bed, and his friend was starting to worry that he might get missed by the Sultan or the rest of the palace's inhabitants.
"There's a lot of Badriyas in the world, you know," he continued. "It could be any one of them."
Ayaz shot him a look. Idris gave him the same look of sorts, but otherwise left him to his devices after that.
That was the last of their conversation before the worst kind of news broke out.
A reedy-thin kid barged inside, breaking the still silence of the infirmary. Ayaz recognized him as one of the spies he assigned to shadow around the city. Jahan, Ayaz thought his name was.
"Z-Za'eem!" Jahan leaned against the doorway, gasping for breath. "T-The sayyida. S-She. . ."
Ayaz shot up from his seat, the chair almost tumbling behind him. "What? What happened?"
The spy swallowed. "She's. . . She's dead."
When Ayaz heard those two words, he thought he had misheard—that Jahan was talking about someone else, but it was a foolish thought. A stupid wish. And right then and there was a moment where everything spun so quickly and then slowed down to a halt at the same time.
He could hear blood rush into his ears. He could hear his heart threatening to get out.
"Where are you going?"
Ayaz let his anger control him. He let it fuel his legs into moving at a pace that was quickening by the second. One moment he was in the cool safety of the hideout, then he was under the blazing heat of the sun the next. It didn't take long until he reached the center, a large expanse where public happenings were held, whether it be a criminal hanging or an announcement for a certain jewel hunt.
"Ayaz, stop!"
A growing crowd gathered in the area, loud murmurs coming from it. Ayaz, fury still boiling in his blood, started for the crowd, but then a pair of strong arms pulled him away, leading him to a secluded corner.
"Let me go," Ayaz growled. "Do not get in my way."
Idris shot him a firm look. "Don't. Not in front of your people. The Sultan will know about—"
"I. Don't. Care," he snarled. "I want to see her."
Ayaz pushed him aside, and this time Idris didn't stop him. He shoved aside everyone that blocked his path, which at first drew surprised shouts and indignant curses, but as the people of Zarab recognized their prince, they scrambled away almost instantly.