BRIDE OF JERU

A Mere Gift of Peace

Naamah's POV

"Look at her, dressed in such a slutty manner," one of the servants sneered as they pulled me forward.

Her eyes looked over the red robe, heavy with gold thread and showing too much skin. "The king has good taste. He knows how to show off his whores."

Her words hurt, but I lifted my chin higher. My feet dragged across the smooth floor, though their grip on my arms left me no choice but to stumble a little.

The hall ahead was full of pipes, drums, and wild laughter. The smell of wine, roasted meat, and exotic incense filled the air.

I turned to the maid who mocked me. "A pretty dress may hide ugliness, but it cannot wash away shame"

The smile on her face faded, and she looked away as if my words meant nothing. But it has hit the target just like I wanted.

The banquet hall opened before me. Men lay on couches, women danced in bold gowns, cups overflowed with wine that spilled on the floor.

Nothing was hidden. They felt no shame in what they were doing.

At the head table, King Ashur sat with his eyes already on me. His cup tilted, wine dripping down the side as he stared. He had forgotten the drink in his hands. His lips curved in satisfaction.

"Bring her," he commanded.

They pushed me forward until I stood before him. He leaned on his chair, his gaze moving over me.

"Be gentle. She is my guest," he said.

"Oh, I am no guest but a mere gift for peace," I replied.

He gave a mocking smile, dropped his cup, and pointed to the seat beside him. Without looking at him, I sat down but kept some distance. It was useless to fight him in this too.

"Tell me, Naamah," he said, swirling his wine, "have you ever heard such music? Do your people in Jeru even have instruments, or do you just hum to your invisible God?"

His courtiers laughed at his joke. I met his eyes without flinching.

"My people are not deaf mutes, Your Majesty. We do have music, but we play it to praise our God, not to entertain beasts."

The laughter stopped. Several nobles shifted uncomfortably. The king's smile grew wider.

"Clever tongue," he said. "I like that. Tonight my people celebrate, and you, Naamah, will honor them. You will dance."

The hall erupted with cheers, hands banging on tables, some voices shouting in excitement.

My heart pounded in fear, however, I lifted my face and steadied my voice. "I can only dance before my God, not before men."

Laughter rose again, mixed with drunken calls. Ashur's eyes narrowed, though he kept smiling. He gestured, and one of my new maids was dragged forward. A blade appeared at her throat.

"Dance," he said softly, and that soft voice was more threatening than shouting. "Or she will not see morning."

The music started again. Drums beat low, flutes played. My hands shook, but I stepped forward. My feet moved not to honor them, but to praise my God.

Each turn, each movement of my arms became a prayer hoping He will hear me. My heart whispered His name while the hall only saw a woman dancing.

The people transfixed. Some clapped along, others shouted, surprised by the grace they had not expected. Their hungry eyes could not see the truth in my movements.

I lifted my face toward the torches, letting my spirit rise above their stares. But when I looked back at Ashur, his desire was plain on his face and I frightened because I felt a fluttering in my stomach.

I stopped. The music stopped as well. Silence filled the hall, broken only by restless shuffling and the king's heavy breathing.

"Who told you to stop?" He snapped.

Before I could answer, Shira stepped forward with a careful bow that kept her eyes down. Her fingers twisted her sleeve as if the motion might steady her voice.

"My lord," she said, her voice soft and trembling, "forgive us. Princess Naamah feels unwell. Her hands shook while she was dancing. She is weak. If it pleases the king, may she have her leave?"

There was truth in her words, a small lie shaped to protect someone she cared for.

Ashur watched her for a long moment. I felt every eye on my back. My chest hurt from their stares.

He smiled a predatory manner. "Go then," he said, wrapping his hand around his goblet that is now raised towards the direction of the door. "Take her away. Do not let her weakness spoil my guests' fun."

I felt Relieved. I had expected worse demands, mockery, and some cruelty to make the night longer. Instead, he dismissed us, and I wanted to think there was mercy in him.

Shira did not breathe until she had my arm. Her fingers were cool. She guided me gently, whispering apologies not for me but for the audience, for the tongues that would turn what happened into gossip by morning.

As soon as we stepped outside, the hall came alive again. Voices rose, music started up, and men's laughter picked up where it left off. I wanted to pull my robe closer, to hide from their eyes and thoughts.

As Shira led me through the columns, the heat of the hall gave way to cooler air in the corridor. My body felt strange, as if the dance's rhythm still played inside me. I had prayed and moved in my God's language, and that was my truest rebellion.

We walked down a long hallway lit by scattered torches. The sounds of the feast faded behind us. My feet, sore from the dance, stumbled slightly on the stone floor.

"My lady, are you well?" Shira whispered.

"Well enough," I said, though my legs felt weak.

We turned a corner into a darker passage. The torches here were spread farther apart, casting long shadows on the walls. Our footsteps made sounds in the quiet hallway.

Suddenly, Shira stopped walking.

"My lady," she whispered.

I looked up. Three men stepped out of the shadows ahead of us. They wore no uniforms, no badges. Just dark clothes and cold eyes. The one in front held a small blade that caught the torchlight.

"Princess," he said, his voice cocky. "The king sends his regards."

My blood turned to cold. "The king dismissed us himself. We go to my chambers by his command."

The man smiled, showing his yellowish teeth. "Plans change, Princess. Kings change their minds."

Shira's hand tightened on my arm. I could feel her shaking.

"What do you want?" I asked, though I already knew the answer would not comfort me.

"You danced beautifully tonight," the man said, taking a step closer. "Some of us would like a private performance."

The other two men spread out to block both ends of the corridor. We were trapped.

"The king will hear of this," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

"The king is drunk and busy with his feast. He will not miss you until morning." The man moved closer. "And by then..."

He did not finish the sentence, but his meaning was clear.

Shira stepped forward, placing herself between me and the men. "Please," she said, her voice breaking. "Take me instead. Leave the princess alone."

The man laughed. "How sweet. But we have specific orders about whom we want."

My heart hammered against my ribs. Behind us, the feast continued, laughter echoing, while we faced death in this forgotten hallway.

The man took another step forward, his blade catching the light.

In that moment, I realized that all my prayers, all my defiance, all my faith might not be enough to save us from what came next.