the point I wondered if she could be an angel and not a human, especially with how bright her skin seemed to be, almost glowing.
Standing beside the bed was a woman I knew so well and yet knew nothing about: the queen. The look in her eyes was so intense, I felt as if it was going to knock me onto my back. I couldn’t read her all that well, but it was easy to see she was shocked at the sight in front of her.
Arabic, Arabic, and more Arabic. The need to scream was too strong. I didn’t know what they were saying. Was it good? Of course not. Was it bad? Seemed more like it. Were they discussing how to kill me? Or were they talking about ways to torture me first? I couldn’t stop wondering. Janna had told me that she didn’t even want to think about what would happen if the plan didn’t work, and I cursed myself for not asking her what would happen. For then, I would’ve at least known my destiny or what was to happen to me. But no, I didn’t know anything. I just stood there, waiting, listening, shaking.
The man on the bed, whom I knew to be the king, gripped his chest hard at the words from the guy gripping my arm, and it seemed like he was struggling with his breaths. The queen ran beside him and the girl started patting his back tenderly. When she looked at the guy beside me, I swear I saw the grin filling his eyes rather than his lips, as if he was pleased with the fact that his words had affected the king that way.
As they were busy with the king, the guy was busy giving me a look that clearly said “Gotcha!” Simply something disgusting and evil, just like him; I had no idea if that creature could be considered a human being at all. The look the queen gave me, though, was even sharper, and this time it spoke only of one thing: “You’ll pay!”
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: Thou hast anointed my head with oil; My cup runneth over.
Our gaze was broken the second I heard a voice coming from behind me, “Get your hands off her. Now!” The voice didn’t belong to anyone I knew, and I didn’t know if I should look behind me or not, I was too scared to even do that. For some reason, I noticed the girl getting out of bed and moving to the side with the rest of women after she put her scarf, that was around her shoulders, over her head to cover her face like the others.
“Jasem! Get your hands off her!” His voice was so stern, so strong and powerful that I couldn’t imagine anyone saying no to that voice, out of fear rather than anything else.
He did let go of my arm, and I winced as the blood started to flow back to where he’d been blocking it with his tight grip. The guy–Jasem, as he was called–spoke in Arabic for a second but he was silenced by the other man right away. He was standing between Jasem and me and kind of shielding me protectively with his body, though not even touching me. It was only then that I got to see his face, a younger version of the king with a short black beard and dark brown eyes, his hair hidden by the white thing men wore around here, his features telling me who he was right away without anyone addressing him by name.
“We only speak in English in the presence of Princess Marie–the future queen. Those are Prince Mazen–the future king’s orders.”
Mazen!
Surely goodness and loving kindness shall follow me all the days of my life; And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
The hurt in my chest, the pain inside of me, and the heartache started burning again at the mention of his name. Though I doubted that any of those feelings had stopped for one second since the minute I’d left the wing–or even before that. I was trying to ignore it for just a few minutes until I could get on that plane, but sadly, I didn’t even get near the airport–not near enough, anyway.
“And there won’t be anything discussed without his presence,” the man, whom I knew to be Prince Fahd, continued.
“Fine,” the queen said, even though there was venom