Shirazad still continued to tell stories. And when she was narrating them, it was as if time stopped. But Shahryar remained indifferent and gave her a hard time with his constant silence and vacant look. If he was in a good mood, sometimes he would ask her at dawn,
"So why can't you continue the tale during the day?"
And she would try to give the most convincing explanation. But it became harder and harder for her to invent new, different, interesting tales once her initial ideas were almost over. She would spend whole day thinking about the tale she'd tell in the evening. Her favorite hobby was slowly turning into a thing that worried her, stressed her and was almost a nightmare.
Shirazad thought for a while. Her father used to say that all is grist to one's mill -- even the worst position could provide an advantage as long as a person knew how to use it.
***
Very soon after her marriage to the king, he went on an expedition related to devising new war strategies. Shirazad knew she wouldn't find peace until she understood why her father had died... and she was afraid that if something happened to the king during this expedition, she would never understand the truth... But also, she was relieved she wouldn't have to see him for some time.
Once he was gone, people in the palace started to express their emotions more openly, and she could feel strange looks on their faces directed towards her... Because she had *survived*.
In fact, this last week before the king's departure he had been very busy, and she had seen him only a few nights.
Meanwhile, her father's spies, out of loyalty to her father, still helped her and told her what palace servants were murmuring about her... that she had survived because of... fairy tales.
According to the rumors, her fairy tales had been so enchanting that the king had decided to let her live... ... It was nice that people were saying such good things, but she did not believe in this "theory"...
Fouad, her father's bodyguard, came to visit her more often now. He advised her,
"Now that the king is away, you'd better stay in your quarters and only leave if necessary..."
"Why?" she wondered.
He gave her a worried look.
"You are the main topic of conversation: not only among the maids and the nobility, but also in the city. Now that the king is absent, you should be very careful. Some people may admire your miraculous survival, but others may be worried, uncomfortable, or simply hate you... We don't know how the king will react to all of this."
Fouad was usually a direct person. This time, however, he sounded as if he was beating around the bush. As if he wanted to say something more, but he did not express himself clearly.
"Have you heard anything?" she wondered. Why did he remind her to be careful? He was reluctant to reply.
"... You will hear it anyway..." he said solemnly. "Now that the king went away... it seems rumors have gone out of control. They... Common people have begun to call you Scheherazade, 'whose realm is noble.'"
"But how can I help it? People's words are beyond my control. Why should I be confined to my quarters because of that?"
"Ordinary people may think that the king is enchanted by you or your fairy tales, but you and I know that your relationship with him is not at all that good. How would he react if he understood they call you Scheherazade? With his temper... ...You see how wild rumors are. You may leave your quarters for an hour and they may say you've been unfaithful to the king."
"Yes... people may say all kinds of things all the time. It's impossible to protect myself against rumors."
"Yes, there will always be rumors, but being more careful will help you."
To tell the truth, Shirazad realized she had to be very grateful for being alive. She completely understood why Fouad was worried.
"I have to know why my father is dead," she said. Now the king was gone, wasn't it the perfect time to investigate around the palace?
"I am doing my best to gather more information. It's very mysterious. A few sources told me your father had definitely been poisoned. But there is no ongoing investigation...," Fouad replied.
"I knew it must have been him," Shirazad said. She was almost certain that the king was behind her father's death.
"Quiet, miss... my queen! There are no such rumors," Fouad said. "Maybe you are jumping to conclusions."
"Of course there would be no rumors, he's the king." Shirazad frowned. Fouad was not her only informant, "Before my father died, he had a personal meeting with the king. Then, he suddenly was poisoned. And now there is no investigation. What am I supposed to think?!"
"It is very hard to say. Your father truly kept everything around this meeting a secret. Only your father and the king know what happened that day. But I understood that your father was the one who asked to see the king. If the king wanted to poison your father, it would make more sense if the king summoned him." While this was true, it was not enough to free the king from guilt.
As for the name Scheherazade, Shirazad couldn't yet understand its meaning very well. Confined to the palace, she was far away from what was happening in town. While she was deeply touched by the fact that the people had romanticized her and her fairy tales in such a way... she couldn't yet understand the responsibility it meant. For now, she preferred not to lose sight of reality which was – her father was murdered and the king had kept her alive. Why? He felt guilty?
Shirazad spent most of that time in the castle, alone, reading, sometimes in the library with Dunyazad, trying to remain unnoticed and make no one angry with anything. But the problems started once Shahryar returned. When he returned, he was greeted and there was a feast.
A few of his officials met him immediately in the throne room, ready to report news from the city he might have missed. He had been gone for a month... more time than he had spent with Shirazad.
"Your Majesty," one of the counselors bowed, "Everything here has been quite calm and normal. This year the weather has been nice, there is no drought, even though the summer is hot." The counselor bowed again, but Shahryar felt a slight hesitation in his voice.
"And?" the king said.
"And..." the counselor fell silent. "Well,... this may be considered unimportant but I feel I shall report it. It's just that, while you were gone, I learned that... about Shirazad (he wouldn't dare call her "queen")... People in town have begun to call her... Scheherazade, 'whose realm is noble'".
Shahryar narrowed his eyes. He'd been absent just for a month and the realm was already hers?!
"...whose realm is noble?" he repeated quietly and angrily.
Fouad had hoped this wouldn't reach the king's ears. It was not such a big piece of news, he thought it could remain unnoticed. Shirazad had been given this epithet too soon... too suddenly. She might be unprepared for it; the king might be too shocked by it or think it was undeserved. But it was a fact... Fouad could do nothing to prevent the king from hearing it. Ahe meticulous counselors reported everything. Fouad was worried when he heard the king had understood about it, but His Majesty showed no apparent reaction to the news.
Later during the day, the king had many state affairs to discuss, but annoyingly the name Scheherazade kept coming up in his mind.
Noble... noble...