As the sun hid behind the purple glow of twilight—the crisp desert wind had once again changed its colours and wrapped the capital of Dohtah, the sophisticated—cosmopolitan city of misamr, in its cold embrace. Hustling with light and noise of the market, misamr barely seemed to be acquainted with dark. And on one such vivacious night, the members of sultan's diwan-e-khas had found themselves in a pub reserved for the high officials and the finest of the city, gathered for their weekly diwaniyah.
Over hukkah they shared jokes and gossip, news of what went on behind the court and sharing snippets of the internal matters of the harem they'd learned from their wives—the ambience paired with the qanun's melody that tinkled softly in the background, the serving girls forgotten save for the occasional smiles that they'd flash towards their patrons every now and then.
"Careful, Sheikh Mu'izz, the Qadi of your state seems to not have good ties with you— if he somehow got the news of your coquetry in these khamars, he'd charge you a sum that might leave you penniless and at your begum's tender mercies." The mischievous timbre caused the chatter to quieten seemingly, stealing the attention of the diwan towards the newest arrival.
There were few chuckles heard amongst the group, causing the sheikh's ears to redden with embarrassment. Entered, the second prince—the sultana's dearest—Ghazi. Dressed in a white thawb with embroidered wine cloak draped stylishly over one of his shoulders, a customary lopsided smirk present on his face.
The men rose from their positions to offer their greetings, before settling once again as the prince presumed his seat in the middle of the majlis. The amir next to him offered a chalice of kahwa, adding, "This is what one gets for marrying the magistrate's daughter! When I advised against it, none of you would see the reason in my words but the second shehzade. Now suffer."
Ghazi sniggered to himself, pursing his lips around the pipe of the hukkah. The sheikh in his stead spoke up defensively. "Amir Sahab is far too devout if you ask me. Basic politeness is a courtesy we all deserve, and serving girls are no exceptions. Simply because I smiled back at her does not make me an infidel!"
"Sure, Sheikh, whatever you say." Amir's instant clip back evoked another round of laughter among the men. Ghazi exhaled the smoke, quietly laughing to himself as he slipped a gold dinar in the hands of one of the veiled, petit serving girls who leaned shyly to whisper in his ears before disappearing.
"It appears the begum trusts our Sheikh Sahab quite a lot, amir. Let's not tease him any further for it, shall we?" Ghazi's words caused the sheikh to brighten a bit, and he leaned forward.
"This one thanks the prince for his kindness," he bowed, adding. "Which reminds me, my liege should start preparations. My begum has heard some really interesting news during her visit to the sultana's court."
"Why? Has our sultan decided to take in a new consort for the harem at this age? Perhaps one of those siodonnean dancers who came to perform in the harvest festival had caught his eye." someone amidst the crowd chimed in, causing the amir to sniff haughtily. "You say as if he cannot. By Anzar's will, our sultan is a robust man even now. Women half our age would throw themselves at his feet without hesitation."
"It isn't the sultan who is taking in a new woman," taking a sip of his kahwa, the sheikh replied smoothly. "Rather he is thinking of bringing in a new daughter in law—begum said it was the first prince he was thinking of arranging a match for—most likely a princess from the neighbouring empire. After all, he is of marriageable age now."
An awkward silence befell the audience, the music of qanun suddenly far too clearly audible after the sudden announcement. All the eyes turned to Prince Ghazi who was inhaling into the fumes of the hukkah, sharp eyes set on the sheikh with an intensity that could make a chill run down anyone's spine.
"If you ask me, the sultana wouldn't prefer marrying him to a princess, since his ... You know." The Amir's tone was cautious, subtly inclined to curry favour from the second prince.
"If anything, the one who is a suitable match for a princess has to have a higher birth. Even the princess would think so too. Tell me if I am wrong, don't women all prefer a refined man who holds higher influence in the society and not a brute?" the men all whispered and nodded their agreements, their voices all interrupted by a peel of loud cackle.
Slapping his thigh, Ghazi leaned forward as if interested, catching his breath. "You shouldn't all speak like that of my elder brother, my lords. If by any chance the sultan catches the wind of your words, he wouldn't be pleased at all." He suggested cheekily, causing the men to all hesitate for a second—some matching his laughter with their faux ones, and others sitting stiff as a statue.
"True! You lot like running your mouth carelessly. Low birth or not, the prince is still above us, the son of our sultan! Be mindful of your words when concerning him if you want to keep your tongue intact, amir." The sheikh warned, hesitantly turning to the second prince.
"However—if my liege would pardon this one's audacity—I'd like to make a suggestion." Ghazi raised his brows, gesturing the sheikh to go on. "You should start looking for a bride too. Marriage is a responsibility—if you take it, it will send in a good message to the sultan about your character, maybe even—"
"Tsk! Sheikh Sahab, here I thought you were the sensible one who knew his place," good-naturedly, Ghazi chastised. Although the grin that marked his face never reached his vesper-like eyes.
"Leave the concerns of my image in front of the sultan to me. Now if my lords will excuse me," he rose from his seat, picking a desert rose from the vase on the table between them and sniffing it, his tone pleasant.
"I have some politeness to show to one of these serving girls in return for her courtesy. Excuse me." And with that, he disappeared behind the curtains where the girl had slipped past.