The palace woke slowly under the golden light of dawn, but Sultan Azmir Khalid did not stir from his private gallery. He had slept little, his mind consumed entirely by the girl who now occupied every corner of his thoughts: Aleerah, his Chosen Bride.
She moved through the palace corridors, carrying trays of fruit, tending to small household matters with quiet diligence. Every motion, every glance, every hesitant smile drew his attention. He noticed the slight tremor of her hands, the way her dark hair fell across her shoulders, the way her eyes darted nervously when she sensed him watching.
"She moves like a shadow," he murmured to himself, voice barely more than a whisper. "Yet there is fire in her, hidden. And I will find it."
The courtiers whispered among themselves. "The Sultan cannot tear his eyes from her," one said nervously. "A commoner… a girl from Kharim. Does he truly–"
"Silence," Sultan Azmir Khalid's voice cut through the hall like a sword. Heads bowed. Conversations died instantly. Even the most seasoned advisors understood: questioning the Sultan now was perilous.
Aleerah, unaware of his constant observation, worked diligently, trying not to draw attention to herself. But she felt it–the weight of his gaze, invisible yet palpable, pressing down on her with a force she could neither resist nor fully comprehend. She found herself glancing up, as if compelled by instinct, only to meet the dark, intense eyes of Azmir Khalid for a fleeting moment before he turned away.
The Sultan began giving her tasks that kept her near, subtle assignments that appeared innocent to the court but allowed him to study her... how she responded to direction, how she carried herself under scrutiny, how quickly she adapted to the strange, glittering world of the palace.
That evening, as Aleerah rested in her chambers, she could not shake the feeling of being watched. Every creak of the palace floorboards, every distant murmur of a servant, every flicker of torchlight seemed to carry his presence. And in the quiet, she felt it, undeniable: the obsession of a man whose eyes never blinked, whose mind never wandered from her.
Sultan Azmir Khalid, seated in the shadowed gallery above, allowed himself a small, almost imperceptible smile. He had claimed her not merely as his bride but as the center of his world, and every step she took, every breath she drew, only deepened the fire of his desire.
"From now on," he whispered to no one but himself, "she will move under my gaze, live under my watch, and breathe only what I allow. She is mine… utterly, completely, and inevitably mine."
The palace, the courtiers, even Aleerah herself had no idea what was coming. For obsession, once it takes root, cannot be tamed.
And Sultan Azmir Khalid's had just begun.
---
The gardens of the palace were a world apart from the desert heat beyond its walls. Aleerah sat beneath a sprawling fig tree, her fingers trailing over the rim of the marble fountain. The gentle trickle of water soothed her heart, though only for a moment. Here, at least, the Sultans piercing gaze could not follow her.
A shadow stretched across the garden path. She turned, startled, and her heart lifted, her father.
"Baba!" She whispered, rising quickly. Her father, worn and bent from years of hardship, stood at the edge of the tiled courtyard. His cloak was dusty from his travel, his sandals worn thin. He bowed low, though his eyes clung to her as if afraid she might vanish.
My daughter,he said softly, his voice breaking with emotion.
Aleerah rushed into his arms." You should not have come this far. What if the guards…"
"They let me through. The Sultan… he has allowed this meeting,her father answered, though his tone carried more awe than certainty. His hands, calloused and trembling, cupped her face. I had to see you before I returned."
Her chest tightened." Returned? Already? You only just came."
He nodded, lips pressed into a grim line.". You must listen closely to me."
Tears stung her eyes, but she swallowed them back. She knew her father hated weakness, especially in her.
"Baba… dont leave me here alone",she whispered.
'You are not alone. You are the Sultans wife now.His gaze darted toward the palace windows, as though fearing Azmir Khalid might be listening even through stone. And that, Aleerah, is why you must heed me."
He led her to sit beside the fountain, his voice low, urgent." You must not provoke him. Do you understand? Submit yourself to him…completely. In whatever way he demands. You must never distract him, never interfere with his duties as Sultan. Men of power…He paused, his throat tightening. …they are not like us. They are fire. One does not embrace fire; one survives it."
Aleerahs breath trembled. "Baba… he is kind to me, in his way. But there is something in his eyes, something that…"
"Shh" Her father pressed a finger to her lips. "I know the whispers. I know what the people say of him...that he is a just man, feared and respected. And that is why I gave you to him. I had no other way to protect you. Had I kept you, poverty would have dragged you into ruin, and men less honorable than him would have taken you by force. Here, at least, you are under Allahs watchful eye. I trust Him to guard you."
Aleerah blinked back tears. "But Baba… I feel like I have lost myself. In his court, in his gaze, I am nothing but a shadow."
Her fathers hands tightened on hers. "No, Aleerah. You are his wife. That is your safety, your duty, and your shield. If you remain like I say, if you serve him as a woman should, you will survive. Perhaps even flourish.His voice cracked, and for a moment, she glimpsed the guilt in his eyes. Forgive me, daughter. I could not find another way."
She leaned into him, her cheek against his rough shoulder. "I do not blame you, Baba. I only… I fear what is to come."
A silence fell between them, filled only by the trickle of the fountain. Finally, her father drew back, his weathered face etched with sorrow.
"I must leave before the sun sets,he said. Your brothers need me, your mother awaits. Promise me, Aleerah… promise me you will not resist him. Do not give the Sultan reason to regret choosing you."
Her throat closed, but she nodded. "I promise."
He kissed her forehead, lingering as though engraving the memory into his soul. Then he stood, his form small against the towering arches of the palace.
As he turned to go, Aleerahs voice cracked across the garden. "Baba!"
He stopped.
She hesitated, clutching her hands to her chest." Will you… will you come back?"
His silence was answer enough. He did not turn, only lifted a hand in farewell before vanishing into the palace corridors.
Aleerah sank back onto the fountains edge, her heart hollow. The fig leaves whispered overhead, carrying her fathers words into her bones. Submit. Obey. Survive.
But as she lifted her gaze toward the palace, toward the chambers where Sultan Azmir Khalid reigned, she felt the weight of something else, something her father had not spoken of.
The Sultan did not simply see her as a wife. His eyes had burned too fiercely, lingered too long.
And though she promised to obey, she feared her obedience would not quench that fire.