Dead Girls Tell No Tales

t w e l v e

AS THE NIGHT wears on, the air thickens. And Shahrazad waits in anticipation, ear pressed against the doors for something, anything. Nerves tremble as seconds weave into minutes, heading towards the prolonged stretch of an hour.

"Hear anything?" One of the cooks asks, arm wrapped around his little girl. She huddles closer to her father, disappearing under the ragged cloth he extends.

Shahrazad smiles sadly, shaking her head. "What really happened?"

"I was there at the stables when they broke in," Laleh explains, leaning her head against the wall tiredly, drained. "Anwar had signalled them, but no sooner than they entered, they began attacking him, saying that a King's brother has no loyalty towards the rebellion. I tried to stop them, but they threw his torch into the stack of hay."

"They burnt the stables?" Shahrazad holds her hand to her mouth, supressing the gasp.

At this, the handmaiden smiles wryly. "Tried, more like it. We separated the flaming straw from the neat ones so that the fire wouldn't spread, and pushed it into the sand outside."

Sighing, she breathes in relief. It still baffles her, though, that the rebels are turning against each other, and it shifts the world under her feet. Nothing makes sense. Unless this rebellion hides a deeper, personal war. "I'm glad that you're okay."

"Well, you better be," Laleh chides, "I have no intention of dying at all."

There's that ill silence, fated to drive one to insanity. She loathes it. Hiding whilst the night loses its patience, calling forth dawn, Shahrazad realises that nothing is black and white.

And in the middle of it, Shahryar is a grey zone.

"You should rest, Malika," Laleh says. "All of us should. It has been a rough night."

She pulls out blankets from the small closet, distributing it amongst the workers. Following her, the Queen does the same, watching as they quiver.

It's all so terrifyingly real.

She feels her eyes flutter heavily, demanding slumber. 

Beside her, Laleh touches her shoulder gently. "I'll stay up, okay?"

"Thank you," she whispers, falling into the kind of nightmare that never ends.