THE MORNING was peaceful. Noor sat by the window, watching the king converse with a few men who she guessed to be pashas. It struck her why would they converse at the back of the castle? Her mind swirled with questions, the main one worrying if he'd let her see her family anytime soon.
Today, she wore velvet, instead of silk. A coat over her navy blue dress belted right beneath her chest. Metallic silver designs were sewn at the rim of the wide collar and the short sleeves. it went down along the middle where the dress underneath peaked out. Her skin still felt sore, the maids waxing it with hot honey made from water boiled in sugar and lime.
Someone cleared their throat from behind her, dragging her out of her state of mind. When Noor turned, she was met with a maid who nervously stood beside the door. Her red hair was tied at the nape of her neck, her simple yet elegant beige dress hung down, covering her feet. It didn't flow out like Noor's dress, simple and humble. Her green eyes that complemented her tanned warm complexion avoided contact with her silver ones. Noor began to notice that the maids were usually nervous with her. They didn't know what to address her as. She wasn't officially crowned sultana, so they couldn't call her that. She wasn't a village girl either, so they couldn't address her by her first name.
"The king would like your presence in the dining room."
Noor's lips folded before slowly saying, "can you please call me Noor?"
She didn't want to come off as rude, it just bothered her that they would call for her attention with the clearing of their throat or knocking on the door.
The maid's eyes widened, panic arising inside of her. "My apologies! I'm sorry if we seem ill-mannered."
"No, its fine. I can understand. Just please, feel comfortable with using Noor."
Silence fell over the two before Noor walked towards the maid and rested her hand on her shoulder. "I'm not any better. I'm just a village girl cursed to hold the weight of her sultan's pain. It would be nice to acquaint a few ladies here's in the castle."
The maid softly smiled at the taller girl. "It would be a pleasure to acquaint you, Noor."
As they walked, the maid introduced herself. Her name was Greta, she had moved from Egypt with her family to find a better life. When she heard that she could work for the king, she immediately caught the opportunity. As promised, the king helped her family and gave them a simple home here in Raymoor. Entering the dining room, Noor bid Greta well before she had made her leave.
Just like the other rooms in this castle, the dining room was painfully luxurious. White walls, and instead of the seeing the sun from the windows, huge red velvet curtains draped elegantly. A giant chandelier with burning candles hung above in the middle, the wide and long table beneath it.
"Such a beautiful morning, don't you agree?"
Noor looked at the king, a small cunning smile daring to appear on her face. She thankfully had a restful night sleep, meaning she could spend her day annoying the sultan by her side joyfully.
"I'd like to avoid agreement with you for the better part of our time together, but yes. It is a lovely morning, that I can't deny."
She acted oblivious to their shocked faces and made her way to the seat on Cyrus's right, a servant respectfully dragging the chair for her and making sure she sat comfortably. The king stared at her, eyes narrowed. The servants placed plates on with delicious steaming hot dishes. Rice topped with stuffed grape leaves, bowels of lentil soup, kebab with roasted tomatoes and onions, yogurt, and fluffy pida bread.
"You don't like me, do you?" He asked, elbows resting on the table with clasped hands.
"Look at that," she smiled at him. "You're not as idiotic as I 'ought you'd be."
A servant stood by her side, quietly asking if she'd like to drink something before pouring some coffee into the cup. Noor continued to serve herself and eat without a worry.
"You haven't taken a bite till now. Your stomach not feeling well?" She asked before sipping her soup.
He picked up his fork and slammed it into the table, the tines dug into the wood as the handle became bent. Noor paused, shocked by how strong he was to cause that to happen. He leaned closer to her, his brows knitted angrily as his lips formed a semi snarl. "After one good night sleep, you seem to have woken up with quite a smart mouth on you. Might explaining why?"
"I don't see what you mean. The day before I've been a bit tired to show spite towards you like I should've, but this is the same Noor sitting right in front of you. In my eyes, nothing changed."
"What a pity then..." he stood up, looking down at her. "I actually thought of being nice for once and allow you to visit your family every few days after your coronation. Or! I'd invite them here to dine and feast on foods made by an amazing chef I've escorted myself, but your attitude does not please me.
"Don't ask something from me unless you learn something called manner. You can force guilt upon Marzaban and tell him you'd never forgive him for all I care. I'm not changing my mind."
Noor felt her heart stop, the consequence of her smart mouth had made her stomach twist with anger. Not fear. She also stood up, wanting to throw her rage at him, but quick footsteps entered the room with a loud angry "Cyrus Harb!"
"We tried to stop her, my sultan. She swore to not stop unless she meets with you," Marzaban quickly apologized, a calm expression on his face. On the other hand, a lady who seemed older than she looked stood tall.
She wore a silver silk kaftan that flowed out much more than Noor. Her hair was braided on the front as the open hair lifted up into a big bun of braids. Unlike Noor, She wore a crown on her head, planted into the roots of her head.
She glared at Noor, pointing towards her before saying, "guards, throw her into the dungeons."