The Forbidden Rose Of Waq

The Girl From Market place

The sun had barely risen over the kingdom of Waq, yet the market was already alive with movement. Merchants unrolled woven mats, their hands deftly arranging fragrant spices, embroidered fabrics, and shining brassware. The scent of freshly baked flatbread mixed with the aroma of incense, creating a warm and familiar embrace that welcomed early shoppers.

Hodan weaved through the crowd, her worn sandals barely making a sound on the dusty cobbled streets. A basket balanced on her hip, filled with dried dates and small bundles of herbs she hoped to sell before noon. The market was her world, a place of stories and survival, where bartering was as much an art as it was a necessity.

She passed a group of women gathered around a storyteller, his deep voice carrying over the hum of the crowd.

“…and so, the great Prince Raage stood before the council, defiant as the desert lion. They say he challenged his father, demanding time to choose his own bride.”

Hodan smirked at the exaggerated tale. The lives of royals always seemed so distant, so full of grand decisions and burdens she would never understand. To her, a prince was just another figure carved into the palace walls, a name whispered in reverence but never seen by ordinary people like her.

“Are you listening?”

Hodan turned to find her younger brother, Warsame, scowling at her. His dark curls fell into his eyes, and his small hands gripped the edge of her basket.

“I said, we need more honey,” he huffed. “Mama said to get it before the prices go up.”

Hodan ruffled his curls. “Then let’s hurry before the merchants know we’re desperate.”

As they approached the honey vendor, a commotion erupted near the palace gates. The crowd murmured in excitement as guards in dark blue robes stepped through the marketplace, their presence parting the people like waves against the shore.

At their center walked a man, his tall frame draped in fine linen, a golden emblem of the sun fastened at his shoulder. His dark, sharp eyes swept over the market, his expression unreadable.

Hodan’s breath caught.

Prince Raage.

The marketplace had seen royalty before, but rarely this close. The people lowered their heads in respect as he passed, but Hodan—curious and bold by nature—found herself staring.

Warsame tugged at her sleeve. “You’re looking too much,” he whispered.

But she couldn’t help it. The prince was not at all like the statues or the stories. He wasn’t just a name or a legend—he was flesh and blood, walking among them.

And for a brief moment, his gaze flickered in her direction.

Their eyes met.

Hodan’s heart thudded against her ribs. It was only a second, maybe less. Yet, in that moment, something unspoken passed between them—a whisper of fate, a ripple in time.

Then, just as quickly, he looked away.

Hodan let out a breath, shaking her head. She was being foolish. A prince and a market girl? There was no story there.

Or so she thought.

Because fate had already begun weaving their destinies together. And soon, neither of them would be able to escape its pull.