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The Last Prince of Dahaar(38)

By:Tara Pammi


                “Then you’re the one responsible, aren’t you?” he said, a hard edge to his words. “Not your father, or anyone else. You ruined your happiness.”

                A dark fear inched its fingers around her heart. “All I wanted was to leave this place,” she said, speaking past the thick lump in her throat. “I would have gone anywhere with him.”

                “Maybe he realized your hatred for this life was more than your love for him? That he was just the excuse you needed to finally leave?” Ayaan delivered the words with a quiet ruthlessness, leaving her with nothing to hide under.

                “Why are you being deliberately cruel?” she said, tears coating her throat.

                His mouth curved, a bitter mockery of a smile. “I am returning a favor. Truth. It is the only real thing between us, isn’t it? You tell me the truth that everyone else around me is too scared to voice for fear of making me mad again, and I do the same.

                “If you had truly loved him, Princess, would it have been such a hardship to live with him in Siyaad?”

                She shook where she stood, everything inside her balling up into an unbearable knot in her stomach. Ayaan became a blurry form as he turned away.

                She had been so angry with Faisal for not taking her away, so heartbroken that he would put her status in Siyaad, and all it entailed, before her.

                I won’t be the one who will steal you away from your fate, Zohra. Those had been Faisal’s words.

                She grabbed the wall behind her, knees shaking under her.

                Can you not view it as anything but a sacrifice?

                Her father’s words pricked her. Was she, once again, clinging to her stubborn anger and letting life pass her by? Was she going to spend the rest of her life waiting for someone to save her, as Ayaan had done just now, instead of saving herself?





                                      CHAPTER SEVEN

                AYAAN LEANED AGAINST the hip-length wall on the roof terrace, letting the peace and quiet steal into him. But even with the rooftop lit up, the dark black of the night seeped into his blood, working its shadows on him. He hadn’t seen Zohra after yesterday, not even at the dinner with her family just now.

                He hadn’t wanted to inquire after her in front of King Salim and upset his already frail health. But after seeing the pain she hid from her father, the utter loneliness he had spied in her gaze, he didn’t want to leave for Dahaar without seeing her.

                He should have kept quiet about the man she had loved. But he had told her the bitter truth. Because the alternative had been to let her believe that she hadn’t been loved. And he just couldn’t do that.

                A wave of possessiveness, selfish and unyielding, hit him hard. Did she still love that man? Was she even now bemoaning his loss somewhere in the palace?

                His unwilling wife had left an indelible mark on the palace in just a few days, and more importantly, on his life.

                In such a short space of time, Zohra had seen the truth, while his mother and he had struggled, danced around the issue, caused each other immense pain because they had each thought they were doing the best for the other.

                Ayaan had endured the torment of seeing his brother’s things, the medals from his military service, his degrees, the sword he had been presented, he even lived in the wing that had been specifically designed for Azeez when he had been crowned.