Roshanak fidgeted with the ends of her skirt and turned stiff when seeing her reflection on a bowl of water. The veil was gone for good, but the intensely sparkling blouse she was wearing didn't live up to the sanctity of such a significant meeting. She wanted to change into a decent robe and pants, but her mother Melissa was too desperate for the meeting to occur soon.

She knew now what her mother wished. Kazu being dead and her father not an independent ruler anymore, it would be tough for her to find a suitor. To make her dance as the main girl attracted attention. Melissa was successful, despite Omkara's attempt to hide her beauty from the Shah. Roshanak had known her mother to be bolder than this, one who even fought the soldiers of this Shah, but she accepted defeat when it came to her daughter's fate. Her father, however, must have had better men in his mind, than such a stranger king.

The servant led her to the queen's hall, where the mother of the Shah was being entertained. Unlike normal days, this section of the palace was deadly silent, so much that the clinking of the chalices could be heard from outside the door. Roshanak was made to wait while the servant went in. She came back after a few moments. "The Kandake summons you."

Kandake was a word the Persians used to refer to the queen mother, who usually would be the living parent of the king or his sister, if the mother wasn't alive. The words of the blond Shah made sense now– he had made it clear that the gardens of Persia would soon dazzle her eyes which were otherwise accustomed to only paltry scenes of nature's flamboyance.

She crept in quietly, feeling foreign and unwelcome in her own home. This was no longer hers, she stayed here on a condition. She didn't look up and knelt before the table where the meal was served.

"Raise your head."

It was a command. Her voice was looming over the hall like a war cry. It was bold and unparalleled in depth, used to no compromising. Roshanak heard the order and matched her gaze with the women on the table. There were only two sitting there.

"What is your name?" The voice belonged to a brunette. Her hair was chestnut brown and her eyes were cold silver. Beside her sat a younger lady, with reddish-brown curls and dark eyes. She had a round, sweet face, unlike the older woman whose jawline rivaled the cut of a pointed spear.

"Roshanak."

"Daughter of Omkara, Roshanak. The shining star." She sipped wine from the chalice. The lady beside her didn't drink, just swirled the contents and watched in silence. "I am Kandake Odile, mother to Shah Sikander. The woman beside me is Euphemia."

The dark-eyed beauty smiled. Roshanak curtly bowed, deciding to not smile. Euphemia probably didn't know the lines of formality.

"How many siblings do you have?"

"I am an only child."

"I see. So your father married only once?"

"Yes."

"Strange. He should have married again to get an heir. His bloodline is going to dry out."

Roshanak kept mum. What was she to say? It was kind of her father to not burden her mother with another competitor of his affections. She found it too hard to share love with someone, especially when it was romantic love.

Maybe she would find it easy now, because she didn't love any living man anymore.

"You are fortunate. Being a daughter of a minor lord and unimportant to history, you have miraculously got the chance to rise in status. My son, who otherwise never casts an eye on women, was moved by your exotic presence. Maybe it is in your blood; I have heard the women of the East and beyond know magic."

Odile's words were not meant to eulogize her elegance. Her skin, the colour of sand, turned red in shame.

"I don't know what in you caught his eye. You are a low born. Your father isn't a son of kings but of petty tribesmen. I admire his rise to power, but it isn't enough to match our place in society. Still, I love my son and respect his choice." Odile kept the chalice on the table with a thud. Roshanak flinched. "And if he ever finds you unsuitable, he may marry better. Women of my land wait to be his wives one day. It startles me how, throwing aside women of reputed families, he chose you out of these rocks."

Euphemia's face drowned in some sort of guilt. Roshanak didn't know why she was acting like this, and what was the relationship between these two women that caused Euphemia to shrivel up.

"In our land, women wed the man their guardians choose. My son has chosen you and your father has agreed to it. Of course he would not deny such an advantageous match."

Roshanak knew her father agreed out of helplessness. But she was not asked to retort.

"Thus, daughter of Omkara, you have no choice but to accept this marriage. After you come with us to Persia, you will have to mix in with us. Prepare yourself, for the wedding will be held in two days."

The announcement made Roshanak disconcerted. She had only two more days left to enjoy with her parents. She wouldn't be able to see her mother anymore. She wouldn't be able to hear her father's roaring laughter. She wouldn't be able to sleep late and frolick around. From a careless princess, she would be transformed into a responsible queen.

It would have been a golden opportunity to some other girl. To Roshanak, it was a cage.

"What is your name again?"

"Roshanak."

"Dismissed."

Roshanak stood up, bowed one last time, and left. She walked hastily at first, but when the realisation that this palace would soon become a distant memory struck her, she paused. Slow, deliberate steps touched the floor. She dragged her body to her room. The room that was hers for only two more days.

Exhausted from the day's turmoil, she was going to flop on the bed, when a knock alerted her. It was her luck that someone still respected her enough to knock before coming in, or else she envisioned the Shah's family and army saw her as some rare gem stuck amidst slaves, one whose quality only shone in the sculpted curves of her body and not in her heart's value. To them she was some little fancy of a Shah who would soon forget her for another.

Roshanak opened the door. Surprised was she to find Euphemia waiting. "I wish to speak to you, Roshanak."

She escorted Euphemia inside and made her sit on the bed. "Sit beside me," Euphemia requested.

"No, I am fine here."

"Don't be afraid."

There was a softness in her voice akin to moonbeams. She reminded Roshanak of the fluffy clouds, her white chiton perfectly fitting her serene aura. Roshanak sat beside her. "What brings my lady here?"

"Do you have a lover?"

Roshanak now understood why she came. It was to check if she was pure. After all, a woman once cherished by a man could never be the same.

"Your silence tells me you have an admirer. Being a princess, it's natural. Quite expected."

"He died. He was killed this morning."

Euphemia's face turned pale. Her lips crinkled and she averted her gaze. "My condolences."

"It's fate. I have nothing to do but accept."

"We were born as women. We must endure silently."

Roshanak's suppressed anger stirred up at her words. "Why did you come here?" she asked tartly.

"I want to say that, whatever the Kandake said, it wasn't out of spite for you. It was rather a bitter consequence of her own past and the maltreatment she has faced. Know that she doesn't mean to demean you."

"She has every right to scorn me."

"Likewise, me." She chuckled coldly. "I didn't introduce myself to you. I am the second wife of the Shah's late father. I have given him a little son, Ochus."

So polygamy was prevalent in the family. Roshanak knew the power of the first wife outshone the competence of all others in most cases, but her status made her anxious. The Kandake said the Shah hadn't looked at women before, so maybe she was going to be his first wife. That, if true, she was going to be secure at least by the bond of marriage.

"Since you are to now become a part of the family, I better warn you that it won't be easy. Even after seven years, I have been unable to command the same authority as Odile. I understand, she is the first wife. What stings me is that I haven't carved out my place in the family as a loved one. Not because I am second and unnecessary, but because I came from a nugatory family like you."

It was unexpected that Euphemia was opening up so casually to a stranger like Roshanak. Yes, she was going to become a part of the royal family of Persia, but then she could very well use Euphemia's words against her. Roshanak couldn't commit such a deed, but it shocked her how simple Euphemia was. Roshanak was forced to think that Euphemia must have been fooled by her husband too, made to fall for an illusion that she perceived as love.

"Nonetheless, it isn't impossible. Sikander is a nice man. I know it's hard to believe after whatever has happened. Every warrior has been stained by blood, but it doesn't mean they don't know how to love. If you ask me, they love more fiercely."

That was the thing Roshanak was fearful of hearing. The battlefield was not the same as the heart.

"Sikander has treated me well and protected me. He could have killed my son, as he posed a threat to his claim for the throne, but he showered all the love of an older brother. Now he guards Ochus like a father figure. So,‌ I ask you to be optimistic." Euphemia stood up.

Roshanak followed. "I am honoured that you thought of sharing with me your deepest feelings. I will remember your words and strive to act properly."

She smiled amicably. "I know."

Roshanak saw her off at the door. She came back to the bed, even though sleep had vanished. Her eyelids didn't feel heavy. A hollow was scooped out inside her heart. Suddenly, she was overtaken by a charge of suffocation. Muffled screams gave birth to desperate cries. Roshanak spread her hands in a prayer, open palms begging the Divine to grant mercy.

She lost everything. Her lover died. She was going to be married against her will. She was to leave her homeland and parents forever.

At present, Roshanak became doubtful of her own worth.

word count: 1826 words

It's gonna be tough for sure.

Yk, the Indian gooseberry tastes so very bitter in the first bite, but the aftertaste is refreshing. Some things start bitterly but end on a good note.