The sun slowly slipped behind the dunes, erasing its last rays in a glowing ember sky. The palace, meanwhile, sank into a marble silence. A heavy silence. Almost oppressive. Laden with secrets.
Nahia climbed the steps one by one, eyes downcast, a file pressed to her chest like an invisible armor. Each step echoed in the too-large, too-empty hallways. She knew the protocol: speak only if spoken to. Never ask questions.
And above all… expect nothing.
She stopped in front of the double doors. No need to knock. He knew she would come. Like every evening.
She entered.
The light was dim, almost golden. Assad was there, seated behind his desk. Majestic. Distant. He was annotating papers with the precision of a surgeon. Not a word. Not a glance.
Just a simple hand gesture.
Put them down. And leave.
Nahia obeyed.
Time seemed to freeze, every second stretched to exhaustion. They breathed the same air, shared the same space. But an invisible wall separated them. Solid. Cold. Impassable.
Assad wasn't cruel.
It was worse.
He was absent. Physically present, but emotionally… elsewhere. Untouchable.
And yet, sometimes, in the turn of a silence, she would catch a stolen glance. Quick. Fleeing. Almost worried.
But nothing was ever said.
And everything weighed heavy.
She was about to leave when the door suddenly opened behind her.
A guard entered. Young. Clearly nervous. He bowed respectfully, holding a sealed envelope in his gloved hands.
— Your Highness… an urgent message, from the northern border.
Assad barely lifted his eyes. He extended his hand, silent. The guard stepped forward, but his gaze shifted. Just for a moment. Toward Nahia.
And that gaze did not immediately turn away.
A heartbeat. Maybe two.
Assad noticed.
— Are you finished? he snapped suddenly, his voice ice-cold.
The guard flinched, yanked back into reality. He lowered his eyes, flustered.
— Forgive me, Your Highness. Yes.
— Then leave. Now.
The tone cracked like a whip. The guard obeyed instantly, head down. But the discomfort had already taken root. Hanging in the air like a toxic mist.
Assad slowly turned his head toward Nahia. His gaze was harder than marble.
— Next time someone dares lay eyes on you here, they will pay the price. You included.
She paled, breath caught. He had never raised his voice like that. Never expressed anything so… sharp. But it wasn't anger. It was subtler. More insidious. Like a blade resting against the skin, without knowing if it would cut.
He returned to his papers as if nothing had happened.
Nahia, meanwhile, left. Without a word. Without looking back.
Back in her room, Nahia closed the door with a sigh.
Here, at least, the walls did not judge.
Amaya was already in bed, curled up in her blanket like a wounded little animal. She opened one eye.
— I was waiting for you.
— You should be asleep, Nahia whispered, placing the folder down.
— He ignored you again?
— As if I didn't exist.
Silence.
Then Amaya gave a faint smile.
— You know… I think he looks at you. When you're not paying attention.
Nahia let out a dry laugh. Almost bitter.
— He's a man of ice. He only looks at what he can possess.
— Or what slips through his fingers…
Amaya had a way of shooting words like arrows. Then falling asleep the next second, as if nothing had happened.
Her breathing slowed. Calm returned.
But something was bothering Nahia. A detail.
A page.
Peeking slightly from under the mattress.
She frowned. Reached out. Gently pulled.
A notebook.
Thick. Hand-bound. Hidden there, in the shadows, like a forbidden treasure.
— What are you hiding from me, little sister…?
She opened it. Just one page. Out of curiosity.
And froze.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Sketches. Stunning. Lively. Dresses that seemed to float off the paper. Elegant silhouettes, precise, delicate. Breathtaking detail.
Nahia blinked. Turned a page. Then another.
Impossible.
She had never seen anything so beautiful. And it was… Amaya?
Her hands trembled slightly. A strange warmth rose in her chest.
A mix of shock, admiration… and guilt.
How had she missed this? How had she lived by her side without ever guessing?
She flipped more pages, faster now. Around twenty sketches. Each more polished than the last. A whole world unfolded before her eyes. A world Amaya carried in secret.
A raw talent. Enormous.
She slowly closed the notebook. Eyes staring into space.
Amaya wasn't just a dreamy child.
She was an artist.
A visionary.
And she, Nahia, had never seen it. Until now.
She placed the notebook back under the mattress. As if burying a too-precious secret.
Then bent down and kissed her sister on the forehead.
— I promise you, she whispered. One day, you will no longer be a secret.
One day, the whole world will see what I saw tonight.
And it will be in awe.
She had no idea that life, capricious and cruel, had another surprise in store.
A surprise that could change everything. Even what one thought had already been endured.