III The Knock of Fear

King Agnil and Commander Kenaz strolled through the bustling market, their footsteps blending with the vibrant thrum of the crowd.

This was a routine excursion for the king, who preferred to move undetected among his subjects, gauging the pulse of his kingdom. 

Shedding their royal regalia, they donned humble attire, worn and weathered from use, their faces partially obscured.

As they navigated the winding stalls, the scent of fresh bread and roasting meats wafted through the air, enticing passersby. Merchants hawked their wares, their voices rising and falling in a lively cadence. Amidst the vibrant tapestry of sounds and smells, the king and his commander moved with quiet purpose, their eyes scanning the crowd with a mixture of curiosity and vigilance.

The market pulsed with its usual vitality, the king and his commander weaving through the crowds with ease. Vendors and customers alike were engrossed in their daily transactions, the atmosphere humming with the familiar rhythms of commerce. The cacophony of calls from the vendors, extolling the virtues of their wares, was music to the king's ears - a symphony he had grown accustomed to over the years. His people, blessed with prosperity under his rule, were naturally drawn to the allure of the finely crafted goods.

As they navigated the bustling market, the king's gaze swept across the crowd, drinking in every detail. Commander Kenaz, clad in the guise of an aged man, remained vigilant, his eyes darting with a mixture of caution and experience.

"Tell me, Kenaz," the king murmured, his voice low and contemplative, "do you think a traitor shall one day rise from among our own people, seeking to usurp my throne?"

The commander's eyes flickered, betraying a fleeting instant of surprise. Yet, he swiftly regained his composure, for he knew that such doubts were an inevitable burden of kingship.

Commander Kenaz's expression remained steadfast, his eyes gleaming with a deep understanding. "A king's thoughts are often shrouded in caution, sire," he said, his voice low and measured.

Agnil's lips curved into a gentle smile, the sound of his soft chuckle carrying on the warm breeze.

Kenaz's gaze turned heavenward, his voice filled with reverence. "May the Almighty, the God of our forefathers, enfold you in His protection, my lord." 

The scent of frankincense wafted through the air, mingling with the murmur of the crowd, as the king's eyes shone with gratitude.

As they paused before a jewelry shop, the vendor's voice rose in a melodious chant, lavishing excessive praise upon a woman admiring his wares. 

Commander Kenaz's lips twitched with amusement, while King Agnil's attention was drawn to a glittering array of earrings. His fingers trailed over the intricate designs, before settling upon an emerald set.

"Verily, a true masterpiece, your majesty," Kenaz said, his eyes admiring the craftsmanship. "For Princess Inayat, I presume?" he added, a hint of inquiry in his voice.

King Agnil's face lit up with a warm smile as he gazed at the emerald earrings. "I've offered my daughters the finest jewels, but Inayat, she's refused to touch the spoils of war. So, I've chosen something new, just for her."

"Princess Inayat is indeed unique, sire," Commander Kenaz observed, his voice tinged with admiration. "I daresay, she'll treasure this gift."

Agnil's eyes sparkled with amusement. "You seem to grasp her nature better than I, Commander."

Kenaz's face flushed slightly as he bowed his head. "I beg your pardon, my lord, for any unintended offense."

The king's gaze lingered on the earrings before shifting to Kenaz. A gentle smile played on his lips. "I worry about your family's treatment of you, Commander. You couldn't even discern my jest."

Kenaz's lips curved into a soft, sheepish smile. 

As the king instructed the vendor to prepare the emerald set, a shaft of bright sunlight illuminated Commander Kenaz's face, rendering his disguise momentarily ineffective. The vendor's eyes widened in recognition.

"My Lord Kenaz!" he exclaimed, his voice trembling with reverence. With a deep bow, he placed a hand upon his chest. "I am honored by your presence, my lord. How may I serve you?" His gaze rose to meet Kenaz's, seeking guidance.

With a subtle nod, Kenaz indicated for the vendor to rise. Though the king's presence was now concealed from the vendor's gaze, Agnil continued to observe the exchange with interest, his eyes never leaving the vendor's face.

"We'll take this set," Kenaz stated simply.

The vendor's eyes widened in reverence. "My lord, consider it yours. I'm deeply honored that you've graced my humble shop with your presence."

He paused, taking a step forward with deference. "Your bravery, alongside Lord Samarth, has secured a glorious victory for our kingdom. Our enemies have fled in disarray. You are a savior to our people, my lord."

Kenaz raised a hand, his gesture silencing the vendor. "Let us give thanks to our Almighty God, Jesus Christ, the Creator of heaven and earth. For without His favor, our efforts would have been in vain. He alone is our Savior." The vendor's gaze remained fixed on Kenaz, who continued, "We shall not accept your gift, Addrit. Name your price, so that we may compensate you fairly."

Addrit, his face aglow with a warm smile, disclosed the price to Kenaz. The commander handed over the coins, and the vendor departed, leaving the two men to continue their stroll.

As they walked, Kenaz seemed to dismiss the vendor's effusive praise from his mind. However, King Agnil couldn't shake off the memory of the encounter. The reverence with which the people regarded Kenaz and his son, Samarth, lingered in his thoughts. A nagging sense of unease stirred within him. Was this admiration a harbinger of something more? A subtle shift in the balance of power, perhaps? The king's eyes narrowed, his mind whirling with the implications.

***

Queen Adah glided into the chamber, her elegant steps a gentle whisper on the stone floor. Her eyes, bright with concern, met the king's introspective gaze. 

"My lord, your thoughts seem a thousand leagues away. What weighs upon your mind?" she asked, her voice a melodious blend of sweetness and solicitude.

Agnil's gaze shifted, his eyes locking onto Adah's as she approached him with a subtle, alluring grace. As the youngest of his queens, she enjoyed a special privilege — the freedom to enter his chambers unbidden, provided he had summoned her.

King Agnil's sigh was a low, rumbling sound as he set the goblet of crimson wine aside. His voice, roughened by the weight of his thoughts, replied, "My mind, Adah... it is troubled."

Queen Adah glided closer, settling beside him on the plush couch. The silk robe slipped from her shoulder, revealing a glimpse of her luminous skin. The king's gaze lingered, drawn to the soft, rounded curve before meeting Adah's eyes, which shone with a hint of warmth.

"What thoughts beset you, my lord?" she asked, her voice husky, as she guided his hand to rest upon her breast.

The silk fabric beneath his hand slid smoothly against his calloused palm, sending a shiver of desire through him. Yet, even as he succumbed to the allure of the moment, a part of him remained aware that he was not one to yield so readily to his passions.

"Commander Kenaz," he murmured, his voice low and thoughtful.

Adah's brow furrowed, confusion etched on her features. "What concern does this man pose, my lord?" she asked, her tone now serious and inquiring. "Was it not merely a triumph, a victory to be celebrated?"

"Throughout the kingdom, Kenaz's name is on every tongue, and the triumph won by his son has stirred something within me, Adah," the king said, his brow furrowed with concern.

Queen Adah's gaze locked onto his, and the unease etched on his features awakened a memory she had long kept hidden. A memory from years past, one that the king had once urged her to recall.

"The prophecy?" she whispered, her voice barely audible, as she searched the king's eyes for confirmation.

He nodded, his movements deliberate, before his hand gently cupped her breast, the silk robe a soft barrier between his skin and hers. "The prophecy," he echoed, his voice low and contemplative.

Adah's lips curled into a teasing smile, accompanied by a soft, sultry moan. "Shall we defer discussion of the prophecy until later, when your priests and seers are present? For now..." Her voice trailed off, inviting the king to indulge in more intimate pursuits.

The king's resolve crumbled, and he succumbed to Adah's allure. Yet, the prophecy lingered in his mind, refusing to be silenced. Its presence was a subtle, gnawing unease, threatening to disrupt the tranquility of the moment.

As the king's attentions turned to Adah, the room seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the soft rustle of silk, the gentle warmth of candlelight, and the promise of a fleeting escape from the weight of his concerns. 

***

Inayat's gentle voice interrupted Izhar's reverie. "Will you speak with my father now?" she asked, her tone laced with a quiet hopefulness.

Izhar's gaze drifted away, his eyes wandering over the lush green grass that carpeted the landscape. The melodic chirping of birds and the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers filled the air, but his thoughts seemed a thousand leagues away.

"I shall attend to it… presently," he replied, his voice tinged with hesitation. Inayat's sensitive ears picked up on the uncertainty, and she sensed the unspoken doubts that lingered beneath his words.

Inayat's voice dropped to a whisper as she stepped closer to Izhar. "Do you fear him?" The soft grass beneath her sandals yielded to her gentle tread, sending tiny butterflies fluttering into the air.

Izhar's response was immediate, his tone firm. "No." He turned to face her, a scowl darkening his features. "I do not fear him."

Inayat's whisper was laced with a hint of warning. "You should... or perhaps, you do." 

Her words struck a chord, and Izhar's jaw clenched as he regarded her. A flicker of curiosity ignited within him — what was it about her father that inspired such trepidation? As a king, he should indeed be wary, but his pride rebelled against the notion. He refused to acknowledge fear, yet... something held him back. What was the reason for his hesitation?

Izhar's voice dripped with irritation, his eyes flashing with a bitter anger. "Why must you persist in questioning me thus, Inayat? Can you not see it will require time?"

Inayat's lips parted to respond, but Izhar's lowered tone, laced with a hint of warning, stayed her words. "Please, let us not discuss this further... for now. I vow to attend to it soon."

Inayat stood motionless, her slender neck inclining in a silent nod. Her heart fluttered within her chest, its rhythm erratic. Though confusion and hurt assailed her, she refused to succumb to tears. Her spirit, tempered by resilience, would not be swayed by a raised voice.

Izhar's smile was a gentle, reassuring gesture as he drew closer, his hands cradling Inayat's face. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart skipping a beat. Their lips almost touched, but Inayat suddenly pulled back, her voice firm. "I think I should take my leave."

Izhar's expression darkened, his eyes flashing with disappointment and frustration. Yet, he released her, his hands falling to his sides. 

***

Princess Inayat slipped discreetly through a secret door in the palace, bound for a clandestine meeting with Izhar. Concealed beneath the folds of her cloak, she navigated the shadows until she reached the palace entrance. From there, she descended a stone staircase into a narrow corridor, which ultimately led her to the tilting yard.

As she approached, the sounds of clashing steel echoed through the air. The entrance, illuminated by sunlight filtering through the lattice-patterned stone windows above, glowed brightly ahead.

Shedding her cloak, Princess Inayat strolled forward with poise, carefully masking the lingering hint of a smile that still played on her lips after her private meeting with Izhar. She knew she had to maintain her usual composed and elegant demeanor. 

The clash of swords echoed through the air, signaling that the training session was in full swing.

As Princess Inayat approached the end of the corridor, the dome above obscured her view, casting the entrance in a shadowy haze. 

With hasty steps that made her anklets jingle softly, she failed to notice the figure standing before her. Suddenly, she collided with a strong arm, the unexpected impact sending a shiver through her.

Princess Inayat's cheeks flushed with embarrassment and surprise as she hastily retreated from the collision. The man, equally startled, turned to face her. As the sun's rays streaming through the windows above illuminated his features, Princess Inayat's gaze met the striking countenance of the stranger. His chiseled jawline, piercing eyes, and strong nose left a lasting impression.

However, his identity remained a mystery to her. He was just another soldier in her father's vast army, his face unfamiliar among the sea of nameless warriors. The only soldier she knew by name was Commander Kenaz, a man renowned for his bravery and tactical prowess.

As Princess Inayat's gaze met Samarth's, her heart skipped a beat. Her innocent curiosity was a potent elixir, one that stirred a reaction within Samarth. However, his stoic facade remained unyielding, betraying none of the turmoil brewing beneath.

"Somewhat... precipitous, Your Highness?" Samarth's deep, husky voice was laced with a hint of amusement, his words dripping with sophistication.

Inayat's cheeks flushed, but she stood her ground. "I was merely returning to my chambers."

Samarth's eyebrow arched elegantly. "Via this corridor?" His tone was polished, but his eyes betrayed a glimmer of intrigue. What could the princess be hiding?

Princess Inayat's silence was palpable, her gaze darting surreptitiously toward the narrow corridor. Samarth's piercing eyes seemed to bore into her very soul, his expression a masterful mask of calm. He knew she concealed something, and his instincts whispered that he had uncovered her secret.

The clash of swords in the distance grew louder, the sound intensifying the tension between them. Samarth's voice, low and measured, cut through the air. "This passage is not commonly known, Your Highness."

The hint was subtle, yet potent. Princess Inayat's eyes flashed with warning, her gaze icy enough to freeze blood. The unspoken message was clear: tread carefully, lest you suffer the consequences. 

"Forgive me, but I am quite familiar with the palace's inner workings, including its more obscure passages." Inayat replied, her voice measured and calculated.

Samarth's gaze narrowed, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. He crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes never leaving Inayat's face. The swordman's attire he wore was a testament to his profession, and the sweat beading on his forehead and jawline suggested he had recently been in the midst of intense training.

The scent of damp earth and musk wafted through the air, mingling with the sound of clashing steel in the distance. Samarth's eyes seemed to gleam with amusement as he replied, "Not in principle, perhaps. But discovering the princess sneaking about in secret… now, that is a different matter altogether." 

Inayat's eyes narrowed, her jaw set in determination. "What, pray tell, do you insinuate by 'sneaking around'?" She took a deliberate step closer, her voice low and even. "This is my palace, and I shall not be questioned about my movements."

Samarth's gaze held hers, a hint of amusement dancing in his forest-green eyes. "Indeed, Your Highness," he replied, his tone smooth as silk. "Yet, your ire cannot conceal the fact that you were indulging in secrecy."

Inayat's fiery honey orbs blazed with intensity, her glare piercing. The air seemed to vibrate with tension as the two locked eyes, neither yielding. But their standoff was interrupted by a voice from behind Samarth.

"Who's caught your attention, friend?" the voice asked, breaking the spell.

As the newcomer approached, Inayat and Samarth instinctively stepped back, their faces neutral masks. Raj, Samarth's friend, bowed deeply, his eyes cast downward in respect. "Your Highness, it's an honor to see you here."

Inayat's smile was gracious as she replied, "Thank you, gentleman."

Raj's expression turned concerned. "If I may be so bold, princess, this area is not typically frequented by… royalty. May I assist you in some way?"

Before Inayat could respond, Samarth interjected, his tone laced with subtle mockery. "I think I can enlighten you, Raj. I caught the princess… exploring the corridors." His eyes locked onto Inayat's, a hint of amusement dancing in their depths. "Perhaps she yearned for the thrill of swordplay?" He turned to Inayat, his voice dripping with elegance. "Am I correct, Your Highness?"

Inayat's smile was a delicate, forced thing as she acknowledged Raj and Samarth. 

"Indeed, it is so," she replied to Raj's query, her voice measured. "I must confess, I've always been fascinated by the art of swordsmanship. The thrill of it, the discipline… it's something I've missed of late."

Raj's eyes lit up with surprise and delight. "Please, Your Highness, call me Raj. I'm enchanted to discover this shared interest. However, I must express my reservations – I fear His Majesty might not approve of your presence here, among us."

Inayat's gaze narrowed, her displeasure evident. 

Before she could respond, Samarth intervened, his tone smooth and assured. "I daresay, His Majesty would hardly deny Her Highness the pleasure of indulging in a friendly match, merely for the joy of it." 

Samarth's eyes locked onto Inayat's, a hint of challenge and intrigue dancing in their depths. "Tell me, Your Highness… would you care to engage in a friendly bout? Just one match, for the sheer delight of it?"