The scent of blood clung to the air like an unshakable curse. The dim torchlight flickered against the cold stone walls, casting long, eerie shadows across the grand courtyard of the Mahranid palace.
Jamal al-Mahran sitting at the throne , his sword dripping with crimson. His sharp, calculating eyes burned with a silent fury, his chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. The lifeless body of a soldier lay sprawled at his feet, the stain of betrayal fresh on the cold marble.
The court had gone silent—too stunned to react, too afraid to breathe. The infamous prince, feared across the Sulṭanat for his merciless rule, had killed his own man. But not for treason, not for war. No, he had slain him for something far more dangerous…
For daring to touch a mere maid.
A murmur rippled through the gathered courtiers, the weight of his actions heavier than the silence itself. Was she really just a servant to him? Or was there something more hidden behind those ruthless, dark eyes?
The news spread like wildfire, reaching the very person at the heart of it all. Nooriyah—the mute maid, the one who spoke not with words but with the light in her eyes.
And when she heard it—when she learned of the blood spilled in her name—her world spun.
The last thing she saw was the flickering glow of the lanterns before darkness swallowed her whole.
She fainted.
And with that, the world she knew was about to change forever.
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