CHAPTER 7, THE FEAST OF ARAFA
683 Words
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The Almara Kingdom woke to the soft glow of dawn.
Tomorrow was Arafa, a day of reflection, fasting, and preparation for Eid al-Adha.
The palace was already alive with the scent of spiced breads, rose tea, and honeyed pastries.
Servants moved quickly through the corridors, carrying trays and laughing quietly, while children chased each other between columns.
Seynurr adjusted her beige hijab in the courtyard, smiling as she watched the palace staff prepare suhur, the pre-dawn meal before fasting.
“Do people always prepare this much food for one meal?”
Zainab whispered, eyes wide at the mountains of dishes.
Talha muttered, “It’s the palace. They don’t know the meaning of ‘simple.’”
Seynurr laughed softly.
“Tradition always looks excessive when you see it from the outside. But when you live inside it… it feels like belonging.”
Fatma Sultana skipped past them, holding a plate of dates.
“Come eat, Seynurr! You must try the rose syrup pancakes before the sun rises!”
Seynurr bowed playfully.
“Yes, Princess. I would never offend a kingdom’s sacred recipes.”
From the balcony above, Hayme Hatun watched with gentle amusement.
“She adapts beautifully,” she said to Seljuk.
Seljuk, leaning against a marble pillar in ceremonial robes, only grunted.
But his eyes never left Seynurr.
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By evening, the fast was broken and the palace transformed.
Lanterns lit the courtyards.
Music filled the halls.
Children ran with sweets in their hands and sugar on their faces.
Seynurr helped distribute dates and water to servants and guards.
Seljuk joined her quietly, handing her a tray.
“Here,” he said.
She smiled, cheeks faintly warm.
“Thank you, Commander.”
He avoided her eyes.
“Someone must make sure you don’t faint from generosity.”
She laughed softly.
“Then I am glad it’s you.”
Not far away, Lady Feraye watched.
He gives her water.
He smiles.
He stands near her.
And not me.
Her fingers tightened around the silk ribbon in her hand.
--
Later, gifts were brought out wrapped in silver cloth and embroidered boxes.
Fatma dragged Seynurr excitedly.
“Come! We exchange small gifts before Eid!”
Seynurr laughed.
“I didn’t know this was in the schedule.”
Fatma handed her a small velvet box.
“For you. From the palace stores.”
Seynurr blinked.
“For me?”
Zainab and Talha received theirs too.
Seynurr opened the box.
Inside was a delicate silver bracelet, engraved with a crescent and a hawk.
It was… beautiful.
Elegant.
Too personal for a random palace gift.
Seljuk noticed instantly.
That symbol.
His expression shifted for half a second so fast no one noticed.
Except Feraye.
Seynurr smiled politely.
“It’s lovely. I’ll treasure it.”
At the same time, Seljuk was handed a folded silk scarf.
Ivory. Soft.
Exactly Seynurr’s style.
He froze.
This is not mine.
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Later that night, after the celebrations faded into softer music and candlelight, Seljuk walked beside Seynurr as she returned the remaining gifts to storage.
“Seynurr…” he said quietly, then stopped.
She turned.
“Yes?”
For a moment, he looked like he wanted to speak not as a commander, but as a man.
But Seynurr noticed something on the door handle.
A small folded note.
She pulled it out.
Her smile faded.
“Did you leave this?”
Seljuk took it from her.
Written in elegant handwriting:
Be careful what you accept.
Some gifts are not what they seem.
At the bottom, a small symbol:
A crescent.
And a hawk.
The same as the bracelet.
Silence fell.
Seljuk spoke slowly.
“This symbol is not from palace storage.”
Seynurr’s heart skipped.
“Then why was it in my gift?”
He looked at her serious now.
“And why was your scarf in my box?”
They both froze.
Understanding hit them at the same time.
The gifts had been switched.
On purpose.
From the far end of the corridor, unseen by either of them,
Lady Feraye watched their silhouettes reflected in a silver tray.
And smiled.
- Writer
