The morning light bounced off a small arrow as it whizzed through the bare training grounds.Swiftly reaping a hole in his jubbeh, missing his arm by an inch. Piercing into the ground before him, he looks back, drawing his own arrow. He shoots it in the direction of his attackers and keeps running forward, occasionally hiding behind rocks. "Keep up!" he shouts to his opponent, who was trying to run behind him.

"Malik, we should stop now. We have been training for nearly an hour." Hassan joins him behind a rock. He lets out a long breath, "I told you to stay behind." Ali peeps to see all his teammates captured. "I could not leave you to sneak around alone." Hassan takes a water pouch from his waist and drinks its contents greedily. "We could train in the palace and not have to hide in disguises..." His voice was muffled from all the water. Ali looks at him, annoyed by his nagging. "You pick them, then you complain!" Ali reasoned softly not to give away their position.

"I mean, look at you, Malik, you remind me of..." he trails off, unsure what to say. "Your father will surely have my head." Ali, busy planning his next move, totally ignored him. "The palace training is nothing like this. Here people treat me as an equal, not their fragile prince." Ali absentmindedly replied. Noticing the other team regrouping, he retreats to the safety of the rock, "Well they do not know who you truly are." Hassan reminded him, but it made no impact. He throws a pebble and an arrow comes flying, "That is why I prefer training here." He picks it up, surrendering.

''''''''''''

On the other side of the city, in another training arena, one hidden beyond the mountains of the southern border, where a rebellion was brewing. A match was being held between two people marked by colour: blue and green. Drumbeats mark the start of the session. I tightened my green scarf and drew my curved sickles, clanking them together to signify my readiness. The other person took their position with a sword on their right and a shield to their left.

We met at the centre of the large circle formed by other rebels, who were busy chanting our colour codes. Hot sand was burning through the paper like the soles of my worn-out sandals, reminding me of the true purpose we were training for.

From nowhere came a sword, alerting me to the fight. I caught it with the back of my left sickle. Using my right, I made for their arm, but I was blocked by the shield. I pushed against my weapons, making them take a staggering step backwards to maintain balance.

I withdrew my left, aiming for their head. The clean blade sliced through the air as they ducked, swiping their right leg across my feet, sending me flat on the ground.

I rolled over, taking a handful of hot dust before it could burn me. I threw it in their face. Regaining my footing, I struck them on the head with the hilt of my right sword. They fell and the crowd went crazy. Some cheered, while others threw sandals and pebbles.

I turned around and held up my hand, encouraging them. Just when I thought victory was mine, a small knife pierced the back of my arm. Looking back, they were struggling to get up. Even at her weakest, her aim was impeccable. I knew the rules very well. The match could only end if one of us was rendered unconscious.

Instead of knocking her cold, I dropped my weapons, lending her a hand to get up. The others jeered as I helped her walk to a small camp outside the arena. She loosened her scarf a little, revealing her unpleased face. "What are you doing, Manal?"

"Helping you, of course." Guiding her to one of the tents where we left our belongings, I could tell her vision was blurred from her squirted eyes.

"You should have continued with the brawl. You know the rules." She scolded me for taking her hand from mine once we were in it. "Why waste time if I already won? Besides, we should be getting back. "She steadily took her bag from a small bench on the farthest corner as we sat down."

After going through it, she took out a bottle of green fluid and two small cups. She poured some in each one. "Drink up, it helps with the pain." She commanded, handing me one while she galloped with the other, then started to examine my arm.

"I am sure no one will miss me with all the preparations." Mercilessly, she pulled the knife out and started to dress the wound. I swallowed back the pain, biting on the cup as I slowly drank its pungent contents. I'm thinking

back to the past years.

The Queen's ascension marked the change of many things. The northern kingdom continued to deteriorate with the plague after Hussein's death. Rayna too became sick and was in no shape to lead. Some said she became mentally ill; others thought it was just the grief. People feared hunger more than the disease. Slowly, they started to relocate to other places after the burial of their king. I vividly recall the day Khawla's cousin arrived; she frequently told the children horror stories. Three years after the plague, on a hot afternoon, news of Ryna's death filled our ears.

"The poor dear; orphaned." were the only words Khawla could master after receiving the news. Then there were the rumours that were spreading. Aisha, now the northern queen, was the first to send the prince an invitation. Everyone despised her now. The grief of losing her father changed her entirely. She became just another pretty poisonous face on a throne. To think she was the expected queen of Madiyan was dreadful.

The young prince had finally come of age; soon he would be crowned prince of Madiyan. Terminating his father’s regency and the start of his reign on the Madiyan throne By the law, he would receive invitations to every kingdom with an eligible princess. Then only six of them would be selected. The prince was supposed to visit all six kingdoms. On the return journey, the expected prince was to choose a wife, with whom he must be engaged on his birthday.

So, practically, the celebrations were grand; a coronation plus an engagement party only a month away. People knew it would be Aisha. Though her competition was tough, none stood a chance. "Precisely why should we be back early? You have fragrances to make and I have meat to deliver. " I announced, snapping out of my thoughts. A furious Talib budged in after tying the last bandage

. "What was that? Both of you! It's a brawl, not a friendly match! " Mina shook her head in guilt, her nervousness so obvious. She parted her lips, wanting to put out a defense when I blurted out. "Oh, Talib, we were just having fun."

"Fun! This is war! "You women are useless. From now on, you two will only do chores." The oldest phrase was being used once again. I knew it angered Mina a lot. She always says a woman is more useful than a man. However, these thoughts would only remain between us. because they challenged the rules and cultures of the land.

"But Talib, you said all women are to have self-defence skills just in case." Mina stood up, challenging Talib. "Yes, every other woman will, just not you two." Quickly, I gathered our bags, haphazardly packing everything up. I had to get her out of here, lest she get us into huge trouble. "Come to Mina, let's not waste time arguing." I grabbed her hand, dragging her away. Talib regarded us as we left the tent.

The journey back to town was short, given all the shortcuts we used and conversions we had. Though they were more like arguments than conversing, I liked how passionate she was. Her reasoning and deductions were very sophisticated. For a woman, let alone a slave, to talk like a wazir, I found it fascinating.

The streets were full of visitors from across the kingdom. Everyone wanted to be a part of the events. Most of them were traders looking to profit from it, others were just loyal citizens who wanted to witness history being made.

We finally arrived at the meat stand just in time for its opening.

"Manal!" Before I could say goodbye, Khawla's strong voice boomed, and I ran off, forgetting entirely about Mina. "You know what? I had to reheat my flatbread and tea today! " The moment I arrived at the stand, she started blubbering. "All thanks to your carelessness." For that, I have asked all the help not to come today. You will do everything.

Khawla was not like the other women. She inherited her husband's business when she was very young. Her experiences in the business world toughened her up. In addition to working alone, she made me do all the extra unnecessary work. By the time I finished, I could barely stand on my feet. Though I never really finished everything, I always assumed that I had since I was tired. earns me ten slashes of the whip.

All the while, Mina, whom I left stranded on the packed market streets, made her way back to the castle. She walked casually among the crowd, whispering a quiet prayer of invisibility. Somehow, from the corner of her eye, she noticed an aged woman staring at her. By the looks of it, she was just another commoner, buying goods in the market. Her veil covered half of her face, making it difficult to recognize her. Mina looked away, pretending not to see her, but her gaze persisted.