As they rode through the endless expanse of golden sand, the warm breeze sweeping grains of sand across their path, Malin adjusted his seat atop his lizard, still marveling at the strange, jerky movements of the creature. The landscape around them stretched out endlessly, with dunes rising and falling like waves frozen in time. Riding alongside him, Maya and Abel appeared more comfortable, their eyes scanning the horizon with practiced vigilance, though their expressions were lighter, more at ease in each other’s company.

  After a while, Malin turned to the two of them with a curious smile. “So… since I’ll be marrying Nahra soon enough, is there anything I should know about her that she won’t tell me herself? Little secrets, quirks… anything that’ll prepare me for life with a princess?”

  Maya glanced at him with a mischievous smile, and Abel chuckled, his expression thoughtful. “Ah, you’re looking for an inside scoop, are you?” Abel teased, a glint in his eye. “Well, I suppose there are a few things she might not tell you outright.”

  Malin nodded eagerly, leaning forward in his saddle. “Exactly! I want to be prepared… for whatever royal surprises she might throw my way.”

  Maya smirked, shifting her grip on the reins. “Alright, I’ll bite. For one, Nahra may look perfectly poised in the palace, but she has an incredible sweet tooth. You’d think a princess would have restraint, but give her anything sweet—honeyed dates, sugared almonds—and she’ll eat her fill in minutes. And heaven forbid she sees a dessert platter at a banquet. She’ll manage to be the first one to it every time, no matter how elegant she tries to look.”

  Malin laughed, trying to picture Nahra, the graceful princess, sneaking extra sweets at a royal event. “Noted. I’ll keep plenty of sweets around… just in case.”

  Abel grinned, joining in. “She’s also terribly competitive. If she takes up any new hobby or interest, she won’t stop until she’s the best at it. Once, she decided she wanted to learn how to shoot a bow. Spent weeks training until her fingers were practically raw. She even challenged the guards to contests and wouldn’t let them hold back just because she’s the princess. When she finally hit a bullseye three times in a row, she strutted around the palace for days.”

  “Really?” Malin said, his eyebrows raised. “So, she’s got a bit of a stubborn streak, huh?”

  “Oh, more than a bit,” Maya said, laughing softly. “Nahra doesn’t back down from anything. If she sets her mind to something, it’s like trying to stop the wind from blowing.” She glanced over at Abel, sharing a look that was both amused and fond, as if they were both recalling similar memories.

  Abel nodded, his tone fond. “You’re going to have your hands full with her, Malin. She may be kind and gentle, but if she wants something done a certain way, you’ll be the first to hear about it if it’s not right. And, well… let’s just say she doesn’t handle losing very well.”

  Malin chuckled, imagining Nahra’s determination and how that stubbornness might play out in their life together. But as he listened, he realized the conversation was shifting. Abel and Maya were no longer talking to him—they were reminiscing with each other. He noticed the way their laughter grew lighter, more natural, and how they began trading stories, not just for his benefit but for their own enjoyment.

  Maya leaned in toward Abel, her eyes sparkling with nostalgia. “Remember that time Nahra tried to play diplomat and settled that ridiculous argument between the royal chef and the head gardener?”

  Abel laughed, nodding. “Oh yes! She thought she could just sit them down and talk it out like adults. But before she knew it, she was caught in the middle of an hour-long rant about soil acidity and spice levels.”

  “And in the end, she sided with both of them just to keep the peace!” Maya laughed, shaking her head. “She even went out of her way to plant some flowers in the garden with the gardener, only to then cook with the chef to make up for ‘choosing sides.’ It was a disaster, but she didn’t let it break her spirit.”

  Malin grinned, watching the two of them as they shared one story after another. He found himself fading into the background as they exchanged looks, laughter, and memories. It was clear that this moment was about more than just telling him about Nahra—it was a chance for them to reconnect, to rekindle something that had been put aside for too long.

  He listened as they recounted more tales of Nahra’s escapades, how she once tried to teach herself swordplay after seeing Abel sparring, or how she’d snuck out of the palace to explore the nearby village with Maya’s help, only to get caught by the palace guards on the way back. Every story painted a picture of a princess who was more than just royal grace and dignity—a young woman with fire in her heart, a rebellious streak, and a fierce loyalty to those she loved.

  As the conversation continued, Malin watched the way Abel’s gaze softened when he looked at Maya, and how Maya’s laughter came easier, her guard lowered in a way he hadn’t seen before. He realized that, perhaps unknowingly, he’d given them an opportunity to remember the bond they once shared—a bond that went beyond the princess they both cared for. There was a history between them, one built on shared laughter, memories, and perhaps even something deeper that neither would openly acknowledge.

  When Abel laughed at a particularly ridiculous story about Nahra’s failed attempts to sing for the court musicians, Malin noticed Maya’s lingering smile as she glanced over at Abel. It was a soft, almost wistful look, one that held the weight of years and unspoken words.

  Clearing his throat, Malin decided to gently nudge the conversation back to the present. “You know,” he said, grinning, “it sounds like I have a lot to prepare for. You two make Nahra sound like a force of nature.”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “Oh, she is,” Abel said, still chuckling. “But you’ll get used to it… eventually. Just remember to keep plenty of patience on hand, and maybe don’t challenge her to a contest unless you’re willing to lose.”

  Maya nodded in agreement, her smile still lingering as she looked at Malin. “Nahra will test you, Malin. But she’ll also make you a better person. That’s her gift—she brings out the best in people, even if it means pushing their limits.”

  Malin took in their words, grateful for the insights but even more appreciative of what this conversation had brought to light. He could see that, despite the years and the hardships they’d each faced, there was a warmth here that hadn’t dimmed. Maya and Abel shared more than just memories; they shared a bond rooted in loyalty, affection, and perhaps even love.

  As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the sand, he felt a quiet satisfaction. In their laughter and shared stories, Maya and Abel had rekindled something important, something that had been waiting beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to re-emerge.

  For now, they had each other, this journey, and the strength of their memories. Whatever lay ahead in the desert, Malin knew they would face it together.

  The Sultan paced back and forth in his opulent chamber, the wide windows framing a sprawling view of his kingdom. From his vantage point, he could see the busy streets, the markets bustling with activity, the people moving about their daily lives. Yet, despite the apparent peace below, he felt an uneasy tension gnawing at him. It was as though an unseen current ran through the kingdom, something shifting beneath the surface, out of sight yet palpably near. He couldn’t place it, couldn’t quite grasp what was happening under his nose—but he could feel it.

  After a moment, he let out a sigh, his strong, regal features softening as he turned away from the window. He knew where he needed to go. Leaving the grand halls behind, he made his way through a series of private corridors, each one quieter and dimmer than the last, until he reached a secluded garden, hidden from the rest of the palace.

  Here, amidst the carefully tended flowers and the soft rustling of leaves, stood a small shrine. It was adorned with intricate carvings and delicate engravings, depicting scenes from their lives together, a testament to the love he’d shared with his wife, Aylin. Beside it lay a stone tomb, simple yet elegant, shaded by the branches of an ancient tree. Unlike most in their culture, Aylin’s remains had not been committed to the sea; he had kept her close, unable to let her go, unable to face the finality of the waves taking her away.

  As he approached the shrine, his steps slowed, reverent and hesitant. It was here, in this private sanctuary, that he allowed himself to be vulnerable, to speak freely without the burden of his title weighing him down. Here, in the quiet company of his departed wife, he could let his guard down.

  He knelt before the shrine, bowing his head in silent reverence, then looked up at the engraved figure of Aylin, her image captured in the serene, knowing expression he remembered so well. His voice, though low, was laced with a rare tenderness as he spoke.

  “Aylin,” he began, his voice rough with the weight of his burdens. “My dearest. It feels like something is slipping through my fingers, something I can’t see. I don’t know what it is, but it’s here, lurking in the shadows of this palace, waiting for me to stumble.”

  He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly as he allowed memories of her to wash over him. Her laughter, her wisdom, the way she could look into his eyes and know his thoughts before he’d even spoken. She had been his anchor, the one person he trusted unreservedly outside of their children. Her absence left a void that no counsel, no adviser, could fill.

  As he let himself sink into his memories, a scene from years ago surfaced—a time when he had once faced a similar uncertainty.

  ---

  It had been a stormy night, the rain pelting against the palace windows as thunder rolled in the distance. The Sultan had paced the very halls he now walked, troubled and restless. There had been rumors of dissent among the nobles, whispers of an uprising, yet he couldn’t tell which of his allies he could trust, and which might be conspiring against him. The weight of leadership bore down on him, yet he had kept it hidden, kept his doubts locked away.

  That evening, as he’d brooded alone, Aylin had found him. She had stood in the doorway, watching him with a gentle, knowing smile, her presence alone enough to calm the tempest within him. Without a word, she had crossed the room and taken his hand, guiding him to a seat by the fire. There, under the warm glow of the flames, she had spoken to him with the quiet strength he’d always admired.

  “You carry so much alone,” she’d said softly, her fingers entwined with his. “But you don’t have to. I am here, always. Whatever darkness you face, we face it together.”

  He’d told her of his fears, of the shadow of betrayal that seemed to follow his every step. Aylin had listened patiently, her expression never wavering, her eyes filled with a fierce loyalty that soothed his troubled heart.

  “Patience,” she’d advised him, her hand resting on his shoulder. “The truth will reveal itself in time. Those who seek to undermine you will falter. They are like shadows, and shadows cannot stand in the light.” She had smiled then, a gentle, reassuring smile that melted his defenses. “Remember, my love, no matter how dark it seems, you are not alone.”

  Those words had stayed with him long after that night, a reminder of the strength she’d given him, the way she’d helped him bear his burdens when they felt too heavy.

  ---

  As he opened his eyes, the memory faded, and he found himself back in the present, staring at the shrine. The years since her passing had done little to dull the ache in his heart, the emptiness left by her absence. She had been his rock, his guide, his truest companion. Now, he faced the shadows alone, relying on her memory to steady him.

  “Patience,” he murmured, echoing her words. “I will wait, Aylin, as you taught me. The truth will come to light.”

  He reached out, brushing his fingers along the smooth, cool surface of the shrine, as if hoping to feel some remnant of her presence. “I miss you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “You were the only one I could truly trust… the only one who knew my heart.”

  In the silence of the garden, he allowed himself a moment of vulnerability, a rare softness that few ever saw. The weight of his responsibilities, of the kingdom and the family he loved, pressed down on him. But here, in this sacred space, he felt her presence, a quiet comfort that reminded him of the strength he still carried within.

  After a moment, he straightened, gathering himself. “I will be patient, my love. I will wait, as you would have.” With one last, lingering look at the shrine, he turned to leave, his expression steeled with renewed resolve.

  Though Aylin was gone, her wisdom remained, a guiding light in the darkness that surrounded him. And as he walked away from the shrine, he felt her words echoing in his heart, a gentle reminder that he was not truly alone.