King Sahir's Arc

Chapter 6 of 17

The three days of rest ended, but Sadiq did not leave. The vizier returned each evening to Sahir's chambers, checking the work they carried, watching how they stood. Tonight Sahir sat by the window with three cream candles burning at staggered heights. The warm light fell on their hands. Sadiq stood near the door in purple robes, holding a single letter. "You have not asked to leave the walls," Sadiq said. It was not quite a question. Sahir kept their eyes on the candle flames. "You watch me too closely for that." "I watch everyone closely. It is my work." Sadiq crossed the room and set the letter on the table. "But you are not resting. You are waiting. I have served three kings. I know the difference." Sahir's chest tightened. For eighteen years they had hidden every true wish behind a friendly tone. Sadiq had learned to hear through it. There was no slipping out now. One quiet step toward the weaver's stall, and the vizier would see. A king caught chasing a commoner would feed every rumor the court already told about them. "There is someone," Sahir said. The words felt dangerous. "In the bazaar. A weaver. He saw me as a person, not a crown. I meant to go back. I never did." Sadiq was silent. Sahir waited for the refusal, the speech about tradition and shut gates. "Describe him," Sadiq said instead. "Young. Bright colors over sand-colored cloth. Too much jewelry." A small smile touched Sahir's mouth. "He laughs easily." Sadiq studied the candles. "Kūrush. His grandmother wove for the old king. She was honest. He is too." The vizier folded their hands. "I knew her. I did not expect to speak her name again." Sahir turned from the window. "You would let me go?" "No." Sadiq's voice went flat and final. "A king does not haggle in a market for his own heart. The court would tear you apart." The candle flames blurred. Sahir looked down at their hands. "So you will not go to him," Sadiq said. "He will come here." Sahir's head lifted. "What?" "A king may summon any craftsman. The palace needs tapestries. The garden hall has bare walls." Sadiq picked up the letter they had carried in and held it out. "I wrote the summons before I came. It needs your seal." Sahir took the paper with shaking fingers. The words were plain. A royal commission for the weaver Kūrush, to bring his work to the castle. "You hid him," Sadiq said. "Now the court will see only a tradesman doing honest work. No scandal. No gate to climb." The vizier moved to the door. "I kept you inside these walls. I did not promise you would be alone in them." Sahir pressed their seal into the warm wax. The door closed behind Sadiq. The candles burned on. For the first time in weeks, Sahir was not waiting. They were expecting.