Shirazad remembered her father and she still couldn't believe he was gone. He would often joke with her and tease her. Sometimes he would say,
"How inexplicable. It seems all the wisdom in our family had been passed down to Dunyazad." She wasn't mad at him for this.
Shirazad wasn't offended by such cutting remarks. The way she replied to her father was no less cutting. Sometimes it seemed it was just a competition between the two who would be wittier. She sighed. Actually, back at the time, maybe she had been mad at him, maybe she had been quite angry, but now it was such a nice memory.
***
Two weeks had passed in which Shirazad had discovered that she seemed to tell her tales quite quickly... The thought that she would soon be exhausted, which had crossed Shahryar's mind earlier, now struck her as well... How long would she be able to do that? Nights were long... Tiring too, because she had to sleep during the day and to think of new tales as well. As for Shahryar – he listened to her at night and he was committed to his duties during the day. It seemed he was awake all the time. Maybe he couldn't sleep.
"I'd be surprised if he could", she thought. "His consciousness keeps him awake."
She sat on the bed. Back when she'd been at home, she actually liked to spend time alone, reading, drawing, and sometimes telling tales to her friends. But now she really wasn't in mood to stay inside, maybe because she had been forbidden from leaving the palace and so it seemed just like a big jail. Whether a jail was big or small was of no importance as long as it was a jail. But she was not the kind of person to easily fall into despair; her mind was free, though the palace might be a jail.
The king had expected that Shirazad would be rebellious, spoiled and argumentative (he'd heard some things about her...), but so far she was quiet and kept a low profile, which was surprising.
As for her, there was one part of her life which she sort of liked... finally, she was no longer surrounded by men everywhere she went. There was a peculiar sense of freedom she felt... Well, she was still confined to the palace.
Her sister had been left alone in their manor, which was surrounded by guards sent by the king.
At least, Dunyazad was allowed to visit her. But Shirazad warned her not to come too often – for who could know what would come next on Shahryar's whim? Shirazad had survived for two weeks. Was this a relief? Or it just made her feel even tenser?
She had to come up with more new stories. Her sister asked her once,
"Do you invent the stories you will tell the king in advance?"
"To some extent," she said. "I can't plan everything. Moreover, I used to tell my stories to friends and children, who were very curious. They always asked me questions about the characters and what would happen next, and so they helped me create the story. But the king, he is silent all the time. I can't even understand whether he finds the story interesting. Now I feel like I've reached a part of the story where I don't know how to continue." She sighed, "I no longer feel inspired to continue the same story. I also feel worried that without inspiration, the story would be boring. Did I lose connection with the character? Or maybe it's because I think the king doesn't like the story? Maybe I should add a character he likes?"
"I think it's because your feelings have changed, Shira. You used to be very talkative and often excited, but now you are worried and quiet. It has been just a short while but I can feel the difference. I know the story you're telling the king now. I dare say you were very much like the main character in this story. She is mischievous and impatient. But now you've become more reserved and you've started to question her behavior as well. Maybe you can just finish this tale and start a new one that fits your current mood?"
Shirazad nodded,
"I will try." She sent Dunyazad to the main gate.
"Shirazad, I am starting to think that you shouldn't worry that much. Even though the situation is like that, Shahryar left you alive. So maybe... he doesn't want to kill you?"
"You shouldn't say that."
It had been only two weeks. Two weeks. And the king had even skipped two nights because he was soon going to travel so he had to prepare himself. Still, the task of telling fairy-tales seemed so difficult. The king was very cold and quiet, and it was difficult to guess his thoughts.