The Prince's Secret Assignment
The palace library smelled of old leather and sandalwood. Rows of ancient books lined the tall shelves, and sunlight streamed through arched windows, scattering gold dust in the air. Amina couldn't help staring in quiet awe.
Prince Idris watched her from a distance, amused. Most visitors bowed, spoke little, and left quickly. But Amina's eyes sparkled with curiosity, like someone seeing magic for the first time.
"So," Idris said, stepping closer, you're the young researcher everyone's talking about.
Amina quickly straightened. Your Highness, I'm honored. I'll be documenting the royal archives for the jubilee exhibition.
He nodded. Good. But I have a different task for you one not in your letter.
She blinked. A different task?
Idris lowered his voice. The library holds hundreds of untold stories letters, journals, songs written by our ancestors. Most were never recorded. I want you to find the forgotten ones the stories about love, hope, and struggle.
Amina hesitated. But why me, Your Highness?
He smiled faintly. Because you look like someone who still believes in those things.
Her cheeks warmed. She wasn't sure if it was his words or the way he said them gentle, with a hint of sadness.
Days passed, and the library became their silent meeting ground. Idris often came under the pretense of checking progress, but really, he just wanted to talk.
Amina asked him questions few dared to ask a prince. Do you ever wish you weren't born royal?
He looked at her for a long moment before replying. Sometimes. It feels like living inside a beautiful cage.
She nodded slowly. And what would you do if you were free?
His answer came softly. Find a reason to stay somewhere for myself, not for duty.
The words lingered in the air.
Amina looked away, pretending to arrange her notes. But inside, her heart fluttered.
One evening, as the sun melted into the horizon, Amina discovered an old diary bound in faded leather. It belonged to Queen Rahma, the King's late mother.
She read aloud softly, unaware Idris had entered the library again.
True love, she wrote, is the only crown no one can steal.
Idris froze behind her, listening. Hearing it from Amina's lips felt strangely personal.
You found her diary? he asked quietly.
Amina turned, startled. Yes, Your Highness. I thought it was forgotten.
He smiled sadly. Most love stories in this palace are.
Their eyes met again, and silence stretched between them soft, unspoken, dangerous.
Before she could reply, the palace bells rang. The King was summoning Idris for council.
He straightened and gave her a faint bow. Keep reading, Miss Musa. Maybe you'll find something even the palace forgot.
As he walked away, Amina held the diary tightly to her chest.
For the first time since she entered the palace, she wasn't just documenting history she was becoming part of one.