The Heir

This story will be a sequel to The Sultan's Favorite.

Chapter 1

It was getting dark. Now raining, the streets of Paris began to shine with the glow of the lanterns lighting the streets. A young girl was hurrying down one of the alleys. Dressed in a light green dress complete with bonnet, she yelped slightly when her foot splashed down in a deep puddle. Lifting her dress slightly, she shook her foot which was now soaked. The rain began to pour heavily and she ran once more down the street, the narrow stone cobbled path growing darker. She reached an area where the buildings connected overhead, creating a small overpass where she could take shelter from the rain. Just ahead was a street that led to the country.

In her arms she carried several books that she gently placed near a potted plant on the ground. She took off her bonnet and her dark brown hair tumbled out down to her waist. The girl took off her shoe and shook it out. Looking around cautiously, she hiked up her dress slightly and peeled off the wet stocking. But just as she began to wring out the water from it, she heard a sound from behind her. It came from the darkened alley and she bit her lip.

"Who is there?" she called out in a strong voice.

Silence was her only answer and she trembled slightly. After waiting for a few more minutes, she bent down and picked up her shoe. When she heard the noise again, the girl whirled around and threw it.

Which made contact with a young man's forehead. "Ouch! Damn it Rashida, it is just me!"

"Well then why did you not answer when I called out?" she replied sharply.

"Father is going to be furious at you."

Rashida straightened and held out her hand. "My shoe please."

"You should have been home hours ago. You will be grounded for the next whole year."

"Shut up Hamid! Now give me back my shoe!"

He sighed and came forward. As soon as it was within her reach, Rashida snatched it from him.

"Sometimes you get so angry. Why is that?"

"Oh I do not know," replied Rashida with heavy sarcasm as she put on her stocking, "Maybe it has something to do with my brother following me." She slipped her foot back in the shoe and went to retrieve the books. "Or perhaps it has to do with you placing a huge spider in my dresser drawer."

Hamid crossed his arms over his chest. "Served you right for stealing my paint brushes."

"I did not steal them. I just borrowed them!"

"You did not ask me so it is the same as stealing." Hamid grew quiet as a horse and carriage approached on the road. "Put your bonnet back on," he ordered.

"Oh please, as if I need to look proper for a passing carriage!"

"Well if you have it on it will help you stay dry from the rain," he pointed out.

She rolled her eyes and tucked the bonnet under her arm while adjusting the heavy books. "The rain is letting up now."

Hamid shook his head. "God, you are so stubborn."

The two of them set off down street, trees now lining the path which made it even darker. The cobblestones soon gave way to a dirt path which by now was more like mud. Rashida struggled to walk while holding the heavy books

"You could at least help me," she muttered.

"Fine, put the bonnet on and I will carry them."

"It is barely raining now!"

He grinned at her. "This has nothing to do with the rain. It has to do with you following my orders."

"I do not have to do anything you say!"

"Yes you do. As your older brother, you have to do everything I say!"

She marched ahead of him but slowed in her pace when the rain began once more. Muttering, she stopped and shoved the books into Hamid's chest. "If you drop even one, I shall make sure that all of your paint brushes go missing!"

Hamid adjusted the books in his arms. "God these are heavy! What the hell are you reading?"

"They are not heavy, you are just weak!" Rashida snapped back as she tied her bonnet underneath her chin. "You just do not-,"

She was silenced when Hamid suddenly covered her mouth. "Quiet!" he whispered. He motioned to where some bushes not far from them.

Rashida narrowed her eyes in warning at her brother. But when she saw the bush move, she stilled. Hamid released her mouth and turned. "I think we need to walk this way," he said softly.

"But home is that way," she protested.

"Rashida," he said with a warning note in his voice as he turned back toward her, "Do you want to go home or get robbed?"

"Being robbed might be better than facing father," she muttered.

"That may be true for you but not for me. Now come on."

But when they turned, Rashida screamed as a man was standing right in front of them. He was dressed in some type of foreign garb, a rich robe of blue silk. Rashida covered her mouth still in shock as she noted he wore some type of hat that had a scarf which covered most of his face. His dark eyes stared at her.

Dropping the books, Hamid quickly stepped in front of her and pushed her back. "What do you want?" he demanded.

The man laughed and spoke in a strange language. Peering around her brother, she saw amusement in the man's eyes. Hamid pushed her back further and drew out a long knife.

"Get back!" spat Hamid.

The man laughed again and took out his own knife. But after a few moments he put it away and gave what appeared to be a mocking bow to them. Hamid continued to back away, forcing Rashida with him. When the man did not advance, Hamid turned her around, grabbed her hand, and began to run.

"Wait!" exclaimed Rashida. "My books!"

"Our lives are in danger and all you care about are your books?" he snapped.

"They are not my books! They belong to the library!" She stopped in her tracks causing Hamid to curse. But when they turned around, the man was gone. Slowly, Rashida began to walk toward her books.

"Stop!" hissed Hamid. "He may be hiding!"

Rashida ignored him and continued to walk until she reached the books that were now scattered in the mud. She reached down and began to retrieve them. Hamid pushed her aside and began to snatch them up.

"You and your stupid books," he muttered. When he had them all, Hamid stood up and slightly pushed Rashida forward to get her moving.

They slowed when they neared the bush that had been moving earlier but to their relief it never moved. Hurrying, they finally reached a small path that took them to a small, quaint house in the distance. Out of breath from walking so quickly, Rashida stopped at the door to catch her breath.

"Open the door," said Hamid.

"Will you wait a minute?"

"You are just stalling as you know he is going to be angry."

Rashida chest tightened at the thought. "You were out late too!"

Hamid shifted the books in his arms. "I am almost five years older than you! Quit whining and get in the house."

She knew he was right. Even though she would soon turn fifteen, she was still just a child, especially in her father's eyes.

She hated it.

"Rashida, if you would stop defying him then maybe he would give you more freedom."

"Oh?" she asked angrily. "What words of wisdom from a son who once ruined his father's sitting room!"

"I did not ruin it! I just added some much needed color and texture to the walls. And those tables look much better after I painted them white."

"Yes, I am sure he carved them with his own hands just for you to change them!"

"Well others seem to like my work," he said quietly.

"Just because you can sell a few stupid paintings does not mean you have any talent. I have seen other artists in Paris by far better than you!"

Hamid's face tightened and she suddenly felt awful for insulting her brother's work. It was actually quite good. But he just made her angry even though she was not always certain why she felt that way.

"Here," he said holding out the books to her. But when she reached out to take them, he let the books fall on the porch, making a loud noise.

The door flew open and their mother appeared. She was wearing a beautiful gold dress, her long dark hair flowing freely down past her shoulders. Her face was filled with worry.

"Rashida! Get inside now! Where have you been?"

Rashida glared at her brother who was smirking at her. She quickly picked up the heavy books and stepped inside.

"Well?" her mother demanded. "You should have been home hours ago!"

"I can explain…," she mumbled.

"Then you will explain it to me," came a deep, melodic voice Rashida knew all too well.

She closed her eyes for a moment and slowly turned to face her father who was now staring down at her through his mask.