The woman surveys the records again, her mind replaying that morning's events. For her valuable treasure, she would claim her back. For now, she must find the truth behind her. Irritated eyes trying to focus on one page. There were only five children born to the nobility who matched the girl's age. Her bony hands studied the writing. The first one was the prince, Ali Al-Rachid, the sixth, son of Suleiman Al-Rachid and Wahida Al-Rachid. The other four were daughters and sons of Wazirs. She went through the list and one, in particular, caught her interest. Death no. 8563, section 10: Munir Fauz (court physician) and Faiza Hajj. Of course, the court physician.

"Now not a word of this to anyone, you will return it." She addresses a small slave boy, giving him the papers. The sun was barely midday, and her body was near exhaustion.

"How will I get into the castle unnoticed?" she wondered, the boy still staring at her, the papers safely tucked beneath his rags secured to his waist by a rope. He motions for her to come close. "I know a way." "Tell me!" he exclaimed, holding up his free calloused hand to her."How much?" He raised a dusty palm, indicating a five." I doubt you know what it means; yalah! " Her hand pulls out coins from her bag and gives them to him.

Loud knocks startled Munir from his unexpected slumber. The books he was referring to were scattered on the small rug as he woke. His feet kicked most of them shut. He opened the door to a skinny, fairly aged woman. "Munir the physician?" Her raspy voice was questioned. "Yes, how may I help?" Munir opened the door further to allow her in.

"I am Samira." I have travelled far seeking you. " Munir offers her a seat at the round oak table. She takes it, tiredly plopping it on it, "I bring news of your child." Munir froze the seat he pulled out for himself, remaining unoccupied for a while. "Are you alright?" Samira waved a hand, noticing his hard grip on the wood, trying to maintain balance. "Yes, but you must be mistaken. I have no child." Don't be ashamed Ya Munir, we all have done things we are not proud of. "He sits down nervously, tapping on the table. "Sorry, what do you mean?" She searched her bag and produced a small bracelet.

"A twenty-four-carat gold piece with exotic rubies. Make no mistake, I am quoting the jeweller who analyzed it; a good friend of mine. " Munir takes it in, remembering a day from his past.

(It was an afternoon many years ago. In his arms, the small girl was sleeping softly in the crevice of his elbow. He sat inside a pheasant's house, rocking her to sleep, humming a song beneath his breath. "Oh! Kaka Munir, sorry for the delay." He looked at the girl who had just arrived from the market.

"I cannot thank you enough for taking her." His voice louder than a whisper, the child moved to alert him of the noise. "Shhhh!" The girl warned, Munir, stood up and approached her carefully not to wake up the child. "Ummaymah, may I ask a favor?" The girl who was putting away her groceries looks up at him and nods. "Her mother gave this to me. She wants her to have it." He steadies his grip on her and the small girl releases a short breath. Using his free hand, he digs out the small bracelet.

Munir slowly reached for her hand under the layers of cloth. Then he carefully slips it onto her tiny wrist. "For now, she may wear it, but be cautious that it should not be found under any circumstance." Ummaymah examined the gift on the girl's hand: "Kaka Munir, this is too much. Where am I supposed to hide this?" "Find a way."

"Munir, all that is done cannot be changed, but we can try to make amends." Samira reasoned, but Munir was expressionless. "Please get out and never come here again." Before standing up, Samira took the jewellery. The door opens, and Mina rushes in, removing her veil. "Kaka Munir?" a stunned Samira asks the perplexed girl.

Days ago, when he left Zainab, the aged woman wept at his departure, and Faiza screamed. Finally, he was back in the busy castle corridors. He realized how much he missed this place. However, before going to Munir, he had to report to Suleiman. Khalid had changed over the years and was unrecognizable, so a cloak was not needed. He finds him in the library going through trade documents.

"Salam Malik," Khalid entered, closing the door behind him. "It has been a while." Khalid raises his bow. "Indeed, Malik, but I have promising news." Suleiman leaves his papers, drawing all his attention to himself. Khalid speaks of the women and their stories, with which the king is familiar. Khalid finished his report, but Suleiman still watched him gauge the young man. "Idris," one of his guards, walks in, "tie him up, then call Munir." "( Khalid made for the doors. The guard, being too fast, caught him instantly.

"You! " What are you doing here? " Samira finally spoke her words, a slap on the girl's steps away. "It is I who should question your presence here!" Mina snapped, surprising a curious Munir. "Mina please, the lady was just leaving." Samira noticed the expensive clothes on her, suddenly realizing something. "I will not go anywhere without her!" Samira searches her bag, revealing a worn-out piece of paper.

"Mina, don't you have things to attend to?" Mina walks out, slamming the door. She listened through the heavy wood, eager to know what was transpiring. If it was one of his plans, she wanted no part in any of it. Still, she wondered who the woman was and what she was after. Her face drew a faded memory blurred in darkness.

Munir takes it from her (certification of ownership). Without his glasses, it was the only thing he could read. "I own her now!" Munir snaps back.

"According to that, she is still mine." She pointed to a phrase which Munir hardly made out.

"I think we could reach an agreement," Samira suggested putting on a convincing smile.

"Tell me, what do you want?" Samira brightened, "I want my slave back, simple."

All Mina could hear was the rise and fall of their inaudible voices. From nowhere, a guard almost caught her. She managed to flee down the hall before she could be seen. The guard opened the door, interrupting them. "Munir sir, the king requests your presence." Samira replaced the paperback in her bag. "Where shall I find you?"

"I have no permanent place yet." "Then let us meet in the souk tomorrow at noon by the milk stalls." Samira nods, following Munir towards the door.

Mina saw the three of them leave, the woman behind them. She pranced on her as soon as she came out.

"Who are you? What do you want from me? " The woman's back hit the walls as she was cornered. "Oh! You do not remember? " Mina, confused, stares at her distantly. Their faces inches away, Mina could now make out the face of an old foe. As clear as the day her memory played Every time they fell on her, those eyes would condemn her.

Mina lets her grip go, untying the dusty black veil. Indeed, it was the monster of her nightmares, her unmistakable chipped, rotten teeth on display, laughing at the shock on her face. "Mama Samira?" Mina shouted, unconsciously disrupting the quiet corridors. Her voice met him as he made his way to the training grounds.

She heard footsteps and replaced her veil. The figure took shape, and its commanding sound echoed through. "Who is there?" Mina could not feel her feet anymore. The woman fled, leaving her there. "Amira! Is everything alright? " A deep wave surged through her. She was confused yet relieved. "Fine... I am fine" with her back facing him. She storms away.

"Ah! The drama has started. Brace yourself, men; you are about to witness the jealousy of three kingdoms. " Their laughs dominated as they walked through the corridors and into a room filled with armoury. Ali took off his kaftan, ready to challenge his escort, his sword slashing through the air with elegance and skill. He immediately got into a rhythm as he sparred with the soldiers. His mind drifted across the city. In his eyes, he saw the people; his people! from the helpless slaves to the soldiers he would once lead. The sword missed his target, stopping upon an arrangement of leather casings, hung on a wall carrying an array of weapons.

A dagger caught his attention the metal weave on the handle intrigued him.

'I am not her slave, I don't even know this woman.' Her statement stuck in his mind. The girl in the leather shop, her reddened innocent face faded, all he remembered was her tears. Somehow he knew her, was she from the castle? maybe the daughter of a wazir? He plucks it from the wall examining it. Who is she? What happened to her? "Hassan!"