The dawn barely brushed the palace gardens with a veil of pale light.
A thin mist wrapped the cobbled paths, caressing the meticulously trimmed hedges and dew-kissed flowers. A deceptive calm reigned, as if silence itself were holding its breath.
Kneeling beside the rows of jasmines, Nahia and Amaya were picking fresh flowers destined for the palace decorations.
Their nimble fingers glided through the still-moist petals. But while Nahia's gestures appeared controlled, her mind had drifted far from the fragrant garden.
Her heart still beat to the rhythm of a bitter memory.
The night before.
The scandal.
Every whisper in the bushes.
Every rustle of fabric.
Every hurried step on the flagstones...
All reminded her of that night of humiliation.
Servants passed by them.
At first silent. Then bolder.
Whispers floated through the air, sharp as blades.
> "Did you see what happened last night?"
"Between her and Sheikh Assad…"
"There has to be something. Otherwise, he never would've reacted like that."
Nahia felt her throat tighten.
Her fingers trembled over the flower stems.
She kept her eyes on the ground, but her name hung in the air like a scent that lingered too long.
They were talking about her. Again.
And the images returned. Again.
Lina's brutal gesture.
The veil slipping from her head.
The hairpin shattering on the floor, letting her black hair fall loose before everyone.
The laughter. The stares.
The shame.
But more than anything… Assad's gaze.
And what he had done.
He had taken off his vest.
Wrapped it around her head, without a word, without hesitation.
Sheikh Assad. The lion of the desert.
Covering a servant.
Protecting her before a shocked crowd.
Ignoring protocol.
Ignoring his rank.
That memory burned deeper than the humiliation.
---
"Nahia…"
Amaya's worried voice pulled her from her trance.
> "Why is everyone looking at you like that? What happened last night? What do they mean about the Sheikh?"
Nahia felt her throat tighten again.
How could she explain… that evening that had upended her life?
> "At the reception… Lina… she ripped off my veil," she whispered.
Amaya jumped up, eyes blazing.
> "What?!"
> "Everyone saw me… my hair, my eyes… I wanted to disappear."
Amaya trembled with fury.
> "Where is that viper? I'll tear her tongue out!"
> "No! Stop… It's over."
> "Over?! Are you joking?!"
> "Princess Yasmina dealt with her," Nahia murmured.
Amaya blinked.
> "Wait… The Yasmina?"
> "She slapped her. In front of everyone. And had her thrown out of the palace…"
Silence.
Then a sharp laugh escaped Amaya's lips.
> "Serves her right. That witch deserved it."
But Nahia didn't laugh.
The wound was still there.
Deep.
Unfading.
Because she had been exposed.
Fragile. Weak.
And what scared her even more…
Was what Assad had seen.
What he now thought of her.
---
A shadow approached. Nahia hadn't seen it.
But Amaya had.
> "Nahia, dear," said a gentle voice.
It was Amira, the palace's housekeeper.
Her gaze swept over the garden before softening as it met the young girl's.
> "You should already be with Sheikh Assad. He's been waiting since dawn."
Nahia turned pale.
> "Oh… I… I'm sorry. I'll go right away."
> "Go. He's counting on you."
Under Amaya's worried gaze, Nahia turned on her heels and rushed through the gardens.
Her heart pounded so hard she could hear it in her chest.
The Sheikh was waiting.
And this time, she no longer knew how to face him.
---
The palace corridors seemed longer than ever.
Nahia's footsteps echoed in the heavy silence.
In front of the carved wooden door of Assad's office, she stopped.
Took a deep breath. Then knocked.
> "Enter," came the deep voice from inside.
She pushed the door open.
He was there.
Straight. Silent. His back to her.
Standing before the large window flooded with light.
His hands clasped behind him. His silhouette dark and impassive.
He didn't turn around.
> "You're late," he said coldly.
> "Forgive me, Sheikh," she murmured, head bowed.
He briefly closed his eyes. His jaw tightened.
He wanted to turn. To look at her. But he stopped himself.
> "I've heard what's being whispered in the palace this morning," he said in an even harsher tone.
"Ignore them. It was just an incident. And it's over."
A tense silence settled.
> "Continue your duties as before. As if nothing happened.
Is that clear?"
> "Yes, Sheikh," she replied, her throat tight.
He nodded slowly, still without turning around.
> "Go to the administrative wing. To Steward Ben Youssef's office.
Ask him for the property records of the western farmlands.
And Advisor Al-Najjar's report on grain imports.
I want both on my desk before noon."
She timidly raised her eyes.
> "Yes, Sheikh."
He paused, fists still clenched behind his back.
> "You may go."
She bowed. Turned on her heels.
But just before crossing the threshold, she stopped.
Her voice, fragile, broke the silence.
> "Thank you… for last night."
He froze. Slowly, he turned his head.
Their eyes met.
Just for a moment.
But enough to reignite the echo of a night neither of them could forget.
Then she slipped away.
And he remained alone.
Alone with a burning memory that should never have existed.