They were halfway to Samarkhand when a messenger from King Zaman arrived and intercepted them. He stopped the carriage,
"Your Majesty, Your Highness," he turned to Shahryar and Shirazad. "A message from King Zaman. Our northern border has been invaded unexpectedly. It has been very difficult for the king to take this decision, but he has decided to go to the northern border. We know it would be too rude to ask you to go back to Persia when you've come here on such a happy occasion, but for your own safety, this is indeed the best decision. Our king apologizes deeply and asks for your forgiveness. He also advises you to go back. He will inform you as soon as he is back into the capital and the crisis is over."
Shahryar and Shirazad exchanged looks. When the situation was like this, they didn't really have a choice. A battle could continue for months, and they couldn't be absent for so long and stay in Samarkhand, waiting for King Zaman. So, they returned. Dunyazad was not exactly disappointed, she did not care too much.
It was so very strange, and to return a bride back home could be interpreted as a very offensive action, if Shahryar and Zaman did not have such a good relationship. ...But then again, no other bride from another country came together with the King and Queen... So if it was only the bride, they didn't have to send her away... because nobody cared too much for the bride, anyway.
They had already traveled for a day and a half, so now they needed a day and a half to return, or maybe two days if they took a break somewhere.
In the carriage, Shirazad had been asleep for a while in one of the corners. Shahryar's eyes drifted toward her, but he immediately looked away. As if he was afraid, but why? It was his own wife. If he wanted to throw a lustful glance at her, then why couldn't he?!
When she woke up, she decided to brush her hair. They would soon be getting off the carriage, and she was a queen after all, it wouldn't be appropriate to walk into the castle with bushy hair. But just as she took out her brush, the king came close to her and said,
"May I?"
She turned around to look at him. Perhaps he wanted to pull the curtain of the window and she was in his way? He smiled a cold smile as he took the brush from her hand... So, he wanted to brush her hair?
The moment he touched her hair with the brush, it seemed that time stopped. She sat motionless like a statue, perhaps too shocked by what he was doing and why he was doing it.