The moon was heavy that night, pulling silver threads through the courtyard tiles as if weaving some secret truth into the palace itself.
Aneesa walked without her slippers; the cool stone beneath her feet was a welcome relief against the heat of the night. The scroll she'd spent hours deciphering was now hidden in the fold of her sash, but its words still echoed in her chest.
"What cannot be ruled, must be remade."
The steward's voice returned to her too.
The stone is real.It's here.
She had come into the garden seeking silence, and instead, she found The Malika.
She stood alone beneath a column of arching vines, her silhouette draped in dark silk, hands folded lightly in front of her.
"You've been working late," she said without turning.
Aneesa nodded. "There was much to translate, Your Majesty."
"I know you've seen his notebooks and know we possess the Philosopher's Stone."
A pause.
"Yes."
The Malika finally turned. Her face was unreadable in the half-light, but her voice carried weight.
"My son does not sleep. He eats little. His mind burns faster than his body can keep up. And now," she stepped closer, "you are part of that fire. A race against fate."
Aneesa straightened, "I don't understand."
The Malika let out a heavy sigh. It revealed many things and nothing at all. She stepped to a nearby stone bench and slowly sat, her posture graceful even in weariness.
She pulled a small wrapped scroll from her sleeve and offered it to Aneesa.
"More?" Aneesa asked softly.
"Always."
Aneesa took it and tucked it beside the scroll she already carried.
"Why me?" Aneesa asked. "There are others in the palace who read. Who've trained longer. Who've served you more loyally."
"Yes," the Malika said. "But they are careful. And predictable. You are neither. And in times like these, it is the unpredictable ones who will shift the course of history and think beyond the scripts others follow."
Aneesa moved to sit at the opposite end of the bench. For a moment, neither woman spoke.
Then she spoke, more to herself than to Aneesa, "Everything is shifting. Borders, beliefs, even bloodlines. My son sees it. And he is looking for a way for us to survive it."
"Through the stone?" Aneesa asked.
"Perhaps," the Malika said. "Or through you."
Footsteps sounded beyond the hedges, alerting the women to quiet their conversation.
Aneesa rose quickly, instinctively smoothing her robe.
From the shadowed corridor between arches, Tariq emerged.
He walked slowly, his eyes glowing in the absence of light, then settling on them both.
"Mother," he greeted.
"Tariq," the Malika said with mild surprise. "Out walking?"
"Out listening," he replied.
His gaze slid to Aneesa. His mother smiled and stood to embrace him before sharing parting words.
"You chose well," she whispered before two guards appeared from the shadows to escort her away.
Tariq stepped closer to Aneesa but said nothing. The air was thick with tension.
And she felt it again, that same pull, like gravity had shifted just slightly around her.
It filled the space where certainty once lived.
"Aneesa, I…" the Emir stopped and waited for her eyes to meet his own, longing to confirm the desire he felt within himself. Instead of words escaping his mouth, he allowed them to meet her lips, pulling her firmly against his body as if to devour her.
His large hands held her face as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. She moaned gently, feeling a heat building in her most intimate parts. Aneesa allowed herself to touch the Emir for the first time, pressing her hands against his chiseled chest.
Her embrace only intensified his hunger as he began to explore her body, gliding his hands down the small of her back to her plump, round behind, grabbing tightly as he pressed his manhood against her stomach.
It was hard like stone and growing as she gasped for air between his hurried kisses. He then let his lips wander to her neck, and his hands found their way to her ample breasts, squeezing gently as his tongue made circles. She felt as if she would explode. The heat now a fire inside.
"Please…" she moaned, feeling as if she would lose her mind. "I…I've..." Her hands were now trying to create distance between them as she pushed against his chest. He suddenly stopped and stood tall, both panting, as he moved her hands to feel his arousal that grew rock hard.
"I know," he said, breathing heavily. "I have dreamed of this moment since I first met you. I have wanted nothing more than to break your chastity."
He closed his eyes and let out a frustrated sigh before removing her hand and holding it gently against his face.
"But not like this."
----------
Tariq had Aneesa escorted back to the harem without going any further. Back in her quarters, she lay awake with the scrolls tucked beneath her bed, their secrets humming like embers beneath stone. Each word she had translated now felt like a thread woven into a larger, darker tapestry. One that could unravel her or bind her to something far greater than she imagined. Her encounter with Tariq was also swirling in her mind. His caress still clinging to her like heat after fire. Between her legs, she was still wet from desire.
She knew nothing in the palace was safe.
Not knowledge. Not power. And certainly not her.