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No one paid attention to Aloe. Well, they did, but no one congratulated her on her dress or makeup. Being an adult is hard... It was worth mentioning how she selectively erased the memory that she hadn’t made the makeup herself nor did she own the dress, but those details were not worth even mentioning.

The morning audience went well, or so she would like to assume. Aloe fulfilled her duties, she reported to the emir before starting and then assisted her when any petitioners’ inquiries fell on her field of expertise. Though that was too strong of a word. Aloe had no expertise whatsoever; she was only barely more informed than Rani on the subject. Stop Aloe. You can’t think that way. She chastised herself. If you keep thinking of her as Rani, then you will refer to her as such. And getting executed by misnaming an imperial is a common cause of death. So don’t. Don’t become familiar with her.

The only hiccup on the long and tedious audience – besides almost falling asleep multiple times, and besides her massive headache – was the other sultanzade. Princess Naila Asina, the imperial scribe of the court of Sadina. Not the longest title I have seen. She knew that sultanzade didn’t have family names because, well, no one could know who the father was. And the Sultanah herself didn’t have a family name because she was Ydaz itself. So like commoners without an established family name, sultanzade had their place of birth as their surname, which obviously was the capital city of Ydaz, Asina.

Naila Asina wasn’t a social person, or that was the impression Aloe got from her. Besides being oblivious to the outside world from her protected upbringing, she was also uptight. Aloe could cope with Rani... -al-Sadina; the emir was a dominant yet playful person, and she could work around that. But as a commoner on shaky ground and with no experience whatsoever, an uptight person could bring her demise.

Especially after seeing the gazes the sultanzade had dedicated her during the whole audience. Those eyes are like knives... Aloe couldn’t deny that she was scared, but at the same time, the emir did appoint her in her current position. Whilst technically equals – even if everyone knew that in practice that wasn’t the case – Aloe and Naila were both under the jurisdiction and whims of Rani-al-Sadina. Unless the emir herself wanted her gone, Naila couldn’t do anything to her.

Or so Aloe hoped.

The audience came to a halt at early noon, Aloe didn’t even dare to move as her legs were unhealthily shaky. She felt as if she were to collapse at the first step she took.

“That will be all for the day,” Rani-al-Sadina said with a bored sigh. Whilst lazy and carefree, the emir had an aura of elegance that no number of rude acts could dispel. “You are all free to go.” Before she ended her sentence, the scribe of scholars was already halfway through the room.

Having prepared herself for that message, Aloe had shifted her internal infusion to ‘toughness’ with the hope that her legs wouldn’t falter her. But as she was about to take her first step – an endeavor that took her a lot of willpower – she was interrupted.

“Not you, Aloe.” The emir ordered. “I need to talk with you.”

“I...” Aloe trembled, both in exhaustion and in fear. I haven’t messed up, have I?

The scribe could see through the corner of her eye how Naila smugly delighted herself in her suffering, only dropping her heart even more on the sands. Her brain went through the last hours trying to search for any offense or misstep she had done but found none.

Realizing that she hadn’t replied to her, Aloe quickly formed a response. “Of course, Rani.” It was becoming easier to speak the emir’s name, and that scared her.

A pregnant silence filled the room once everyone left. Before departing, Tamara gave Aloe a sympathetic look, whilst Naila’s whilst filled with scorn. In a few seconds, there weren’t any guards, petitioners, or scribes left, just Aloe and her liege.

A few shy breaths cut the silence; she almost didn’t dare to breathe in the emir’s presence. Her smile embraced her, but her eyes devoured her. It was not possible to not feel like a prey stalked by a predator.

Her eyes shone like amethysts.

Her skin had the luster of bronze.

Her body was curved like dunes.

The more Aloe gazed at Rani... -al-Sadina, the more she was pulled into a downward spiral that didn’t let her escape, just like the moving sands that fiction authors loved to use so much even though everyone in Ydaz knew sands didn’t work that way. She knew that she needed to look away, but at the same time, she couldn't stop. Not out of compulsion, but obedience.

If the emir had requested her presence, then she could only address her when questioned, not a moment before.

So Aloe looked in silence as she lost herself in the curves that defined the magnificence of the person that was Rani-al-Sadina.

“You did a good job.” The emir said out of nowhere.

“Uhm... t-thanks, R-Rani?” Aloe responded out of reflex, though her embarrassment still went through.

But then her paranoia soon kicked in, bringing fresh winds of logic with it. Good job. A boss didn't say good job to their employees, only teammates said so to each other. Not great, nor wonderful. Good job. That was not different from saying “decent job”. Aloe had been average, and whilst that would work for an average job, she currently was the scribe of commoners, representative of the people in all of Sadina, organizer of cultivation and crops, the welfare of the whole emirate.

Decent wouldn’t cut it.

Even if she was already steeling herself for the worst, Aloe kept her façade straight. She couldn’t collapse, not now. She had experienced worse physical and mental pain; whatever the emir could say she could take it on.

Then Rani-al-Sadina started walking away.

Eh? Aloe’s façade collapsed in sheer confusion.

“W-was that all you wanted to inquire, Rani?” Aloe added after recomposing her expression, a task that only took her fractions of a second.

“But of course.” The sultanzade responded after turning from her hips, her whole body rocking salaciously with the movement. But what was the worst offender, the hardest-hitting soldier, was that smile. That all-knowing seductive smile that toyed with her, the purple of her eyes partially hidden behind a squint.

Rani left the room soon after that, she didn’t add more words that made her twitch, instead choosing to simply walk out. No firing notice or swift execution came to her.

Aloe stood still in the audience hall alone, not only were her breaths erratic, but so was her heartbeat. She didn’t know what she was feeling. If stress, or panic, or dizziness, or fear, or... or something else.

Her headache only worsened from there.

“I...” There was no one to listen to her, yet she still had difficulties talking. “I need to rest.”

To say her mind was done would be an overstatement, her mind was far from having any coherent thought currently. Her steps were lazy and heavy, basically just like her mind. Even the simplest of actions was simple.

Her confusion was so great that she couldn’t even put two and two together; it was noon, she should have been eating right now. And even if she wasn’t having lunch, there were many duties she had to attend to like talking with the other scribes under her wing, those who had previously been under her mother’s wing and actually knew how the job of a scribe of commoners worked.

But instead of walking to her office or the feast hall, she unconsciously followed her feet. Which was a bad idea as her feet were as lost as her. Huh? There was no muscle memory whatsoever tying her to the place, and soon she found herself lost in the palace’s corridors. Where am I?

No voice responded to her, but a few swishes filled her ears.

What’s that sound? It was unlike anything she had heard before, a short and muted but constant series of swishes. No. She had heard this before, once. It’s like that time with Uncle Jafar. Yes, like that time when she was taken with her father to the soldier’s garrisons and training ground when she was little. That’s the sound of a sword cutting the air.

With caution, Aloe approached the source of the sound. Columns passed before her view to reveal a garden in a clearing surrounded by open corridors. It wasn’t as breathtaking as the gardens on the university or the noble veranda, and certainly not magical like her greenhouse, but the green touch of nature was welcomed in the colorful yet overtly brown corridors of the palace.

In the center of the clearing, a figure danced. Blades snapping the air as if they were whip tails. She danced with methodical and brutal beauty. It was, of course, Naila.

Aloe hastily hid behind one of the columns, pressing her back against the cold stone in panic. She hasn’t noticed me, right? The scribe inched her head to the clearing where the sultanzade kept slashing the air in a trance, her eyes closed as she swayed like the wind.

The scribe hadn’t hidden because she didn’t want to see Naila, though that was a very valid reason. That kid wasn’t exactly... talkable. Better to not think bad words about the sultanzade. If one escapes my mouth... better to not think about it. No, the reason she had hidden, the reason behind her accelerated breathing, lay on the imperial scribe’s movements.

That speed... She had seen it yesterday in the audience hall as Naila threatened the lives of those two guards with her hidden blades, but only now the familiarity of that movement struck her. Aloe opened and closed her hand, there was a rigidity to her skin. It was because of the current flow of her vitality that made her slightly weaker but massively resilient. She had no proof, not even a solid theory, but she didn’t need that. Because there was only one possible explanation to her. That speed wasn’t natural, it was... An internal infusion.

Aloe hadn’t practiced much with the ‘speed’ internal infusion, but she knew how it felt. The body became so fast that it was impossible to control. And Naila’s speed was even greater than Aloe’s. She’s like me, we are alike... An even greater realization hit her. Or I am like her? Like a sultanzade?