[4] JAWAD

JAWAD.

"To what do I owe this pleasant visit," Khadijah says when I push her door open. She is sitting in front of the mirror, her back turned to me. She must have seen the reflection from the mirror to know I'm the intruder. I won't be surprised to know she recognizes me by just the sounds of my footsteps. She's Khadijah, after all-the intelligent princess.

"Stop making it sound like it's a big deal for me to be in your room." I make way to her bed. The huge quilt on her bed is hindering me from sitting. I shift it before lowering my body on her bed. I sit opposite to the chair she is sitting on, facing the mirror.

"It's not every day you find the strong prince in your room." she turns to me, "did you by chance lost your way?" a small smile plays on her lips, she grips the edge of the wooden carved vanity table,

"Khadijah," I refuse to cut my gaze away from hers, "stop playing with me, it isn't wrong to visit one's sister." She releases a loud scoff, then turn back to the mirror.

"When last did I see your mere shadow in my room." she raises her finger, then turn to me with her extended palm almost close to my face. "A week, a month..." She counts her fingers, "half a year, Jawad! Half a year," she emphasizes.

I realize how much I've been away from everyone, Khadijah is the closest to me in the palace, and I still haven't visited her for so long. I almost couldn't stop myself from coming down to her chamber when the blue-eyed maid leaked it to me that Khadijah was indisposed. I would have rushed to Khadijah's chamber if she hadn't stopped me immediately.

"I'm sorry, princess. I hope you forgive me for my misdeeds." She smears ointment into her palms while still ignoring me, her gaze is squarely on the mirror. "Consider my request, princess..." I press my elbow on the bed, and then lower my body further, "it's coming from prince ja6wad," I whisper.

She sucks in her cheeks like she's trying to conceal her smile, "I forgive you." She smiles. "I know you've grown, but you remain my favourite prince."

"I'm relieved to hear that, my princess. I remain loyal."

Khadijah and I talk some more, we touched the areas we have missed out on; politics, I tell her about my experiences while on pilgrimage. I know I like being alone, but it actually felt good to talk to someone.

I wanted asking Khadijah about her maid who stumbled mistakenly into my room just when her thoughts were on my mind, but I postponed it until I'm about to leave the room, and now is the perfect time for that.

I stand up from her bed while she stands beside me, "lest I forget, do you perhaps know the maid with blue eyes?" I ask. I know it's bizarre to hear a prince asking about a maid, but I can't help but kill my curiosity. I need to know the name of the woman who has eyes as clear as an ocean. Staring into her eyes can make one lost in its waves.

"A maid with blue eyes... maid with blue eyes." Khadijah tests my words on her tongue; maybe saying it out can make her brain single out her memory of a maid with blue eyes. "Oh yes! I know her," She beams out of excitement on getting the answers to my question. My ears wait impatiently to get fill with the news of the one that has taken over my thoughts.

"She was the one who helped me when I was ill-" Khadijah presses her palm on her lips, but she slowly releases it, and she's staring at me. "Wait... why are you asking about the maid?" she arches her brows. "And you don't look surprise to hear I was sick... that's very unlike you."

She cranes her neck to look into my eyes properly. Her brown orbs boring into mine, "they are two explanations for that, your honour. Either you don't care anymore or you're already aware, and the latter sounds more valid." I don't know if I forgot to mention that Khadijah is very smart.

"You're overthinking things, Amira." chances of getting caught by Khadijah increases the longer you hold a conversation with her, she has a manipulative way of deriving information from the one she wants to. I'd have told her how I come to know about her health, but I want to keep the unsaid promise I made to the young lady.

"I'm not over thinking, Amir, she told you." Khadijah looks hurt as she talks, "she broke my promise, and she isn't loyal, she-"

"I forced her to tell me when I saw her approach your room with a medicine in her hand." I can't allow any more word to be said against her. All the nerves in my body propel me to protect her name before I can think properly.

"Oh..." she relaxes a little then faces the door in front of her, "I don't know her name, but I'll surely find it out... now." The smile on Khadijah's lips tells me she is up to no good, I know very well she is cooking up another plan of hers.

"Okay." I fold my arms behind me. "I'll take my leave now." We ambulate towards the door. Khadijah opens the door and I take a step forward.

"It was nice having you in my chamber."

"One more thing princess," her eyes scan my face as she anticipates what I'm about to tell her, her slim light skinned fingers tickles the door handle. Her whole height if traced to mine will fall at the level of my chest; she's tall, but not as tall as I'm. "Don't hide it from me when you're ill, I'll be willing to help."

Her eyelids lower and the small smile on her lips gently unfold, disappearing from her radiant face. "Okay." She says lowly. I wave her a little, then she closes her door. I know not what makes the princess sad, but I hope she's okay.

****

I pull the hood over my head, and then I stride towards the kingdom market. Today I'm without Aqwa. I always take survey around the market-which is the most crowded area in the kingdom. I take surveys of the welfare of the citizen, but I haven't done that since I returned from pilgrimage.

I hide my real appearance and relate with the citizens like one of them, to see what is really going on in the kingdom. I don't trust the reports of the royal court, they may be wrong sometimes. Zayd is the one to do this, but he's too busy chasing wealth and power to care about the welfare of the people.

It is midday and the rays of the sun are fully stretched, I walk slowly through the boisterous market, slowly taking all my observations in. I intend to visit about ten stalls to ask the vendors some pending questions.

I look towards my left and see a man selling fruits, the tents over his head is torn at different points, not serving its purpose of protection. I take light steps toward his stall.

"Salam alaykum, welcome, I have different type of fruits to sweeten your taste bud," he rambles, dusting the fruits with the black clothing on his hand. He then places the clothing over his shoulder.

"Walaykum salam," I reply. The hood I'm wearing covers my eyes, so no one will be able to make out that it is the Amir standing before them. Even if they did, only a few of the citizen knows me facially.

"How much does the apple goes for?" I pick one out of the red apples arranged obliquely on his stall, feeling its weight in my palms.

"The apple will go for 2 dinars."

"Why 2 dinars... Why has the price increased?" I play along like a real buyer to get a seed of information from him.

"Yes, after the war, the price of everything increased. Our supplier of fruits from other kingdoms only gives it out at a higher price." The man looks left and right like he's being wary of his environment. He touches his ears, and then he gestures for me to bring my head forward. I do as he says.

"Most goods are being smuggled." he whispers into my ears. Smuggling of goods through illegal ways is wrong, and I don't know how hard it's for the citizen and why they resort to smuggling of goods, but I'll find out and straighten things out.

I put the apple into my pocket, and then I remove a small sack of gold. I throw it into his open hands, "use it to get a new tent." I say.

"Shukran, shukran." He bows his head repeatedly. He massages the sack like he's lost in thought, then he stretches his palm to me with the gold still in it.

Is he not accepting it?

"I'm sorry if you find what I'm about to say rude, but there's someone in this market who needs a new tent than I do."

Oh I see, he's handing me back the money because he thinks someone else needs it more.

That catches my interest; I'm most interested in the affairs of the least privileged. "Who is the person?"

"Her stall is over there." I follow the direction of his finger; it lands on the stall far opposite of his.

"Keep the money." I close his palms on the small sack and push it backwards. "Jazakallahi khairan." I thank him then walk towards his description.

Truth be told, when I got in front of the stall, it is worse than the man's.

Herbs and nuts are arranged on a wooden crooked table underneath the dilapidated red coloured tent, which has a huge hole in its centre. The wooven material of the tent hanging from the sides of the huge hole dangles in response to the airflow.

I see no vendor in the stall. I look around to see maybe the vendor is lurking somewhere close, but I still see no one. I'm about to leave when an old, frail woman appears besides me.

"You want something, young man?" She asks, her smile enhancing the wrinkles on her brown skinned face. She moves away from me to enter the stall. She sits on the stood underneath the open stall, dusting the sand settled on her goods with her hand. "Don't mind my stall... my herbs are very efficient... what type of pain do you feel?"

I notice she's staring intently at my wrist, her gaze didn't falter. "Are you from the palace?" She points at my wrist, "that sign is for the palace." Oh, I see now, she's referring to the small circular sign drawn in front of my wrist. It signifies royalty, all the princes and princesses have it. But how did she know?

"My granddaughter also works in the palace... did you perhaps know her." She inquires, her gaze still on me, but not on my wrist any more. I realize I haven't replied a single question of hers, but she keeps asking, and surprisingly, I'm not bored or irritated, she's intriguing.

"I don't know her."

"You can't conclude yet. I haven't described her." She says, and I agree with her.

"She's petite, has a creamy skin... and yes, her unique feature..." she beams happily as she describes her granddaughter, "she has blue eyes, light blue." My heart hammers in my chest when I hear that feature 'blue'.

Can she be the one I know of? Can she be the blue-eyed lady who refuses to leave my thoughts?

"Do you know her?" she asks expectantly,

"No, but if I know her name I might remember her."

"Her name is Amna. Amna, my beautiful Amna" she says dreamily.

So, if she's the one, she bears Amna.

"I still don't know her." She looks disappointed when she hears me, but a smile quickly replaces the dejected look.

"I hope you meet her one day. She brings peace to others life." If the number of times my heart tugs when I hear this woman talk about her 'Amna' can be accumulated, it could make a very nice rhyme.

"I hope so, too."

I purchase nothing from the woman, but I gave her stacks of gold to enable her to replace her worn out tent. I proceed to other tents to complete my intended survey, but a name continues to play through my head. The name, melodious to my brain cells, the name 'Amna'.