“Does His Majesty, Sultan Wumla, know of this news?” Emilio asked.
“Not yet,” Lord Krarim replied. “I wanted to discuss the matter with Princess Nalini first.”
Nalini’s chest contracted. Any measure to counter Date-Palm needed to go through her brother. Wumla had seldom listened to their father, even after being shouted at or belted. Invisible weight spaded into Nalini’s shoulders, as she could not remember a time Wumla had listened to her. She had more hope moving a mountain with her bare hands than getting Wumla to act.
But Nalini had to do something. She owed it to her father to at least speak to Wumla about his response. “I think it is time we paid His Majesty a visit,” she said. “Come on, let’s see how he’s doing.”
She stood up and led the way to Wumla’s bedchambers. He was the Sultan now, but he had yet to make any effort to move into the royal bedchambers. In so many ways, the lack of action typified him.
Nalini grimaced at the thought, as she turned a corner and approached Wumla’s bedchambers, with Emilio and Lord Krarim close behind. Captain Ghasím, who had guarded both her father and Razilan, stood outside Wumla’s room, alongside Haluk. “I take it His Majesty is inside?” Nalini asked.
Captain Ghasím frowned, to show her what he thought of the question. “Yes, he is in his chambers,” he said, unable to hide the derision in his voice. “He is… resting, I think.”
How can he be resting at this hour? It was mid-afternoon, there was so much to do, and he was the Sultan of Al-Jaraba. He had a damn kingdom to rule. “If he’s resting,” Nalini said. “I have to wake him. There are matters I need to discuss with him.”
Captain Ghasím bowed and opened the door. Nalini, Emilio and Lord Krarim subsequently entered. Sultana Yasmeena, Wumla’s wife, sat on a rocking chair by the open window, reading a book. She looked up as they entered, before she grunted and carried on reading, with the book resting on her swelling, pregnant belly.
Nalini turned her attentions away from her sister-in-law. If Yasmeena wanted to be rude and unwelcoming, Nalini was not going to say anything to her either. Instead, Nalini turned her attentions to her brother.
Sultan Wumla lay in his bed, on his stomach. His oval eyes were open and veiny, like he had either slept or had been crying. Or both. “Hello,” he said, faintly.
Nalini inhaled slowly. She was going to need the patience of a saint from the Holy Circle to get her brother to act. She just knew it. “How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Tired.”
Yasmeena snorted. “How can you be tired?” she said. “You haven’t got out of bed today.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I just feel tired all the time.”
“Well if you got out of bed, mayhap you’d feel better.”
Nalini ignored her sister-in-law. She had learned over the past six years that ignoring her was the best way to deal with her. Instead, Nalini focused on Wumla. “Brother,” she said, softly. “It is pleasant and sunny outside. Some fresh air would do you well. And… it would give us the chance to talk.”
Wumla shook his head on his pillow. “I don’t want to go outside,” he said. He then turned his head the other way and sobbed. “I don’t want to see anyone.”
This is absurd. Like their mother, Wumla had suffered bouts where he had been tired and melancholic before. But never like this. What was the matter with him? “But you are the Sultan,” Nalini said. “You can’t avoid people all the time. You see them at meal times.”
“I eat my meals in my chamber now. Alone with Yasmeena.”
“How lucky I am,” Yasmeena said, thick with sarcasm.
Nalini glared at her sister-in-law. “That was neither kind nor helpful,” she said.
Yasmeena laughed. “Kind? Helpful? What your family did to mine was neither kind nor helpful. It was treason and against everything Abyar stands for! This family is cursed for what you all did. What you are getting now is justice. And you deserve all of Abyar’s wrath.”
Nalini grinded her teeth. Yasmeena had always resented House Reba for dethroning her father and for being forced to marry Wumla. But this was the first time she had expressed joy at the misfortune befalling Nalini’s family.
Nevertheless, Yasmeena was part of House Reba now. And if she did not play her part in getting Wumla to act like a sultan, she would share in its consequences. “You could be carrying the heir to the Kingdom in your womb,” Nalini said. “One day, your child may sit on the throne. But he won’t if uncle Talekh and aunt Ríma march on the capital.”
“Lady Ríma is kin to me,” Yasmeena retorted. “She will not harm any child of mine.”
“Lady Ríma is an ambitious woman and a witch. If your child is a boy, she will make sure that he never gets near the throne, one way or another.”
Yet, no sooner had she said it when her stomach went queasy. Would her aunt really kill a babe? It sounded like something an ambitious, ruthless person would do. But that did not mean she’d do it. After-all, uncle Talekh had spared her son, Samu. Would Ríma not do the same for Wumla’s and Yasmeena’s child?
Nalini looked at Lord Krarim. She wanted verification on what she had said. Lord Krarim upheld his impassive façade, before nodding once. Nalini sighed with relief at his validation.
“Uncle Talekh and aunt Ríma will not come near my child,” Wumla stated. “I will personally stop them.”
Nalini did her utmost to keep a straight face. But she could not stop her eyebrow from raising. “H-how will you do that?” she asked.
Wumla sat up. “I will stop them by leading an army.” He then looked at Lord Krarim. “My Lord,” he said. “Call the banners. Tell them that Date-Palm has committed treason, that we are facing a revolt, and that every lord that he should arrive with his men when they come for Razilan’s funeral.”
“What?” Yasmeena spluttered. “You can’t be serious-”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” Lord Krarim interjected. “I will have the pigeons sent out tonight, with all possible haste.”
Subsequently, Lord Krarim took his leave, shutting the door behind him. The clap of wood on wood echoed around the room, amplifying the silence.
“Why the silence?” Wumla asked. “Aren’t you happy with my decision?”
Nalini glanced first at her husband and then at Princess Yasmeena. Both looked at one another and then at Nalini, humming with hesitancy. It was like they foresaw disaster approaching, like an onrushing giant wave upon a city.
Nalini did not blame them. Wumla had no experience of war. Against a seasoned strategist like uncle Talekh, he stood no chance. “W-we are happy with your decision,” she said, wondering if there was a grain of truth to her words. “You have made the decision Father and Razilan would have made. Now, you must make them proud.”
7
-Too Late To Vacillate-
(Nalini)
“May His Majesty, Sultan Razilan, be judged favourably,” Grand Cleric Faas proclaimed. “May He Be Worthy of Abyar.”
“May He Be Worthy of Abyar,” Nalini and the others responded in unison.