The Voice of Azzam

The palace had gone quiet after the coronation feast - the music faded, the guests gone, the laughter dissolved into distant echoes. Everyone had retired to thier chambers. But deep within the palace gardens, lights still glowed faintly against the trees.

Milan walked quickly, clutching the edge of her shawl. She'd been summoned by one of the senior attendants - "The king requested your presence in the east garden."

The words had nearly made her drop her broom.

The king? Me?

She'd scrubbed her hands clean twice, changed into the neatest uniform she owned, and prayed the rumors weren't true - that she wasn't in trouble for accidentally speaking to him that way earlier.

The corridors were empty now, quiet except for the rustle of fountains and wind through glass. When she reached the archway that opened into the royal garden, she hesitated.

"Come closer."

The voice came from the shadows.

Her heart jumped. She looked up.

He was there - Kamil, standing beside the white lilies, half in the light, half in darkness. No crown, no robe. Just a plain shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and that same calm that made people lower their gaze before him.

She froze. "Your Majesty, I- I didn't know if-""You came," he said quietly, walking toward her. "Good."

"I didn't mean to disturb-"

"You didn't."

She looked everywhere but at him. "They said you wanted to see me."

He studied her a moment, then smiled

"I did."

Milan blinked. "Why?"

"Because I realized I never properly thanked you. For saving my crown from your... very sharp tongue."

She flushed instantly. "I didn't know who you were!"

"I know." He chuckled softly. "That's why it was... refreshing."

"Refreshing?" she echoed, disbelief and confusion tangled in her voice. "Everyone in the palace probably thinks I'm doomed."

"Do you think I'd punish you for speaking your mind?"

She hesitated. "Maybe."

He laughed under his breath, and the sound made her chest tighten for no reason she could name.

"Milan," he said softly. "You don't need to fear me."

She finally looked up - and that was her mistake.

His eyes caught hers, steady and kind, but heavy enough to make her forget how to breathe.

"Why did you lie about your name?" she whispered.

Kamil's gaze didn't waver. "Because for one moment, I wanted to be just... a man. Not a crown. Not a title. Just someone who could talk to you without making you bow."

Milan's throat ached with something unspoken. "You shouldn't have. It's dangerous.""So is honesty in this palace," he murmured.

A petal drifted between them, landing near her feet. She stared at it - anything to avoid the way his voice softened when he said her name again.

"Milan."

She finally looked up. "Yes, Your Majesty?"

He smiled faintly.

"Happy belated birthday."

Her breath caught. "You...alrea...?"

"I know," he said lightly, softer, "Besides... we share the same day, remember?"

Her eyes widened a little. "Wait-yesterday was your birthday too?"

He nodded once, a ghost of a smile crossing his face. "The same day you turned nineteen, I turned twenty."

Her lips parted in surprise, then curved into a small, hesitant smile. "So... happy belated birthday, Your Majesty."

"Thank you," he said, his tone warm but low. "Though I think I should be the one saying it."

She laughed softly, brushing her hair back nervously. "You already did. The bracelet, remember?"

His gaze lingered on her wrist "Still," he murmured, "it sounds better when I say it."

Milan lowered her gaze, her fingers brushing the bracelet as though it were some fragile secret. "You shouldn't be out here, Your Majesty," she said finally, forcing a smile. "People might talk."

Kamil's eyes softened. "Let them."

She blinked. "You don't mean that.""I do," he said quietly. "For once, I don't care what they say."

she turned to leave, he said quietly, "Milan."

She paused.

"Don't let anyone take away that voice of yours. Not even this palace."

Her eyes widened slightly. Then she nodded and before she could speak, a faint click echoed down the corridor - the soft hum of the intercom gate sliding open.

Queen Ayisha stood at the end of the hall, her presence quiet but commanding. Her eyes moved between the two of them.

Kamil straightened at once. "Mother." Milan's heart jumped. She immediately stepped back, head bowed low.

"Your Majesty," she said quickly, her voice trembling slightly. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to- I

was only here to deliver-"

Ayisha raised a gentle hand, her tone warm. "It's all right, child. You've done nothing wrong."

Milan hesitated, her fingers still clutching the tray she'd forgotten to set down. "Thank you,

Your Grace," she said softly, curtsying deeply. "May the night favor you."

Ayisha's gaze softened even more at the girl's courtesy. "It already has," she murmured.

Then, turning to Kamil, "The palace is asleep, yet my son wanders its halls."

Kamil's jaw tightened slightly. "I couldn't sleep."

Ayisha's eyes glimmered with quiet amusement. "Then may I suggest trying rest, before curiosity keeps you awake longer than it should."

She turned back to Milan. "You should go, dear. The morning will come sooner than you think."

When she was gone, Ayisha's gentle smile faded. "You have your father's restlessness," she said to Kamil softly. "And his heart. But remember - even the purest heart must learn when to listen and when to hide its rhythm."

Kamil exhaled quietly. "You make it sound like a warning.""It is," she said, and for a moment, her hand brushed his shoulder - tender, proud. "You are king now, my son. The walls have ears... and sometimes, they echo."

When she left, the corridor felt colder.

Kamil looked toward the direction Milan had gone then turned towards his chamber.

**Dawn crept slowly.

King Kamil stood on the terrace of his private quarters, the early wind brushing his hair as he stared across the city.

His crown sat on the table beside him, glinting faintly in the morning light.

"Your Majesty," a soft voice called from the doorway.

Queen Ayisha stepped in, dressed in a pale silk robe.

"You didn't sleep," she said gently.

Kamil's lips twitched. "Neither did the kingdom."

She approached slowly. "It's strange, isn't it? One day, you're everyone's prince. The next, you're everyone's hope."

He turned, meeting her gaze. "And what if I'm not what they hoped for?"

Ayisha smiled faintly. "Then you'll become it."

Her hand brushed his arm - motherly, certain. "You always do."

Before he could answer, the faint buzz of the intercom interrupted.

"Your Majesty," came Bashi's voice, smooth and formal. "The council awaits your first royal briefing."

Kamil sighed. "So it begins."

Ayisha's smile softened. "Go, my King. And remember - a crown doesn't make you powerful.

Your choices will."

He nodded once, picking up the crown and leaving through the arched doorway. 

At the head of the long obsidian table sat King Kamil, posture calm, gaze unreadable. To his right, Liam watched the proceedings in quiet amusement. 

The rest of the council - twelve men with practiced smiles. Lord Bashi was the first to speak.

 "Your Majesty," he began smoothly, "the people rejoice in your coronation. But they also expect the next step - a queen beside their king. The princess of Nalal remains in Azzam, a guest, awaiting your word."

Kamil's eyes flicked briefly toward him. "She's been awaiting that word for quite some time now."

A few nervous chuckles broke the air.

Even Liam's brow lifted slightly.

Bashi leaned forward, unbothered. "And yet, Your Majesty, her patience is proof of her devotion. Princess Jodha's presence is not merely political. It's... strategic. Nalal is the second strongest kingdom in the region. A union between Azzam and Nalal would silence your rivals before they dare breathe."

Kamil leaned back, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. "And here I thought the throne was already secure."

The subtle edge in his tone made several councilors lower their eyes.

Kaan spoke next, his voice more direct. "With respect, Your Majesty, alliances matter more than pride. The princess's continued stay in the palace shows her loyalty. Refusing her might be... unwise."

Kamil studied him, his calm expression never faltering. "Loyalty," he said softly, "should never come with conditions."

Silence.

Only the low hum of the ceiling fans filled the chamber.

Liam's smirk widened slightly - that was the king's way of saying the conversation over.

"Shall we proceed to trade reforms?" Liam cut in before Bashi could recover. "The crown might stand on gold, not gossip."The laughter that followed was strained, but it broke the tension.

Kamil turned his gaze to the treasurer. "Continue."

But as the man spoke, Kamil's thoughts lingered - on Jodha's continued stay, on her subtle attempts to draw close.

He knew she wasn't here just for diplomacy.

Someone wanted her here.

And the glances between Bashi and Kaan told him exactly who.