Chapter 7: Deadly Competition

"Nadia," Dastan forced a smile. "So good to see you."

"Its good to see you as well. You've been gone for so long," insisted the new arrival. "I have missed you terribly. Did you miss me?"

The young woman was dressed in fine silk. Her robes were a gentle blue, embellished with gems and stones of white. Her skirts reached just above the floor, revealing her soft, jeweled slippers. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun.

"Of course," the Persian prince answered sheepishly. "But what brings you to Persia?"

The young woman gave him a sly smirk before answering, "Father was called back to the palace by his majesty and I persuaded him to allow me to accompany him."

Nadia Tehrani, the daughter of his father's most trusted ambassador to the neighboring kingdom of Parthia. Stubborn and spoiled, she would often visit the palace with her father and it was not long before, ensnared by her beauty, she became Dastan's lover. For more than two years, the coupled shared a shared every summer when Nadia and her father visited.

"Well, welcome back," Dastan offered, good-naturedly.

Nadia frowned at the prince's distant greeting. She noticed the presence of the beautiful, dark-haired woman standing next to him and asked, in a vulgar manner, "Who is this?"

Stiffening at the audacity of Nadia to speak to the princess in such a tone, being a commoner, he gave the woman a harsh, scolding glare. "This is Princess Azrael, princess of Syria and my future wife. You would do so to remember that in the future Nadia," said Dastan, anger and disappointment lacing his voice.

Eyes widened in fear and embarrassment, Nadia made quick work to cover her faux pas. "M-my apologizes princess," she offered turning to Azrael.

Recognizing the woman's ploy, Azrael gracefully nodded in acceptance of the hoax of an apology. "Pleasure to meet me," Azrael stated.

"Well, now that out of way, you'll have to excuse us Nadia," Dastan chimed in. "We have a rather large wedding to plan which we are all very excited about."

Without missing a step, Dastan quickly gasped his fiancé's hand and led her out of the room. Leading through the long hallway that circled the outside of the palace, Dastan took them down the steps to the palace stables.

"Here," he said, closing the stable doors behind them. "Nadia won't think to look for us here. She hates animals."

"Really, I wouldn't have guessed," Azrael said, laughing at his explanation. "So tell me Dastan, why are we hiding from your former concubine? Or is 'former' an inaccurate word to describe her?"

"No, of course not," Dastan exclaimed in shock. "Azrael, Nadia and I have not spoken or seen each other for over a year since she left with her father."

"Which leads me to the question, do you wish to continue your relations with her after our marriage," asked Azrael?

"My only relationship after marriage will be with my wife, Azrael," Dastan answered unsmiling.

She had insulted him, Azrael realized. Insinuating he would share his bed with other women even after marriage had clearly struck a chord with her husband-to-be. She had not realized the loyalty Dastan was capable of. Most men, especially the nobility and royalty, held marriages to a number of different women. Dastan's brother had a rather large number of wives.

Azrael reached and lightly took his hand in hers. "That's all I needed to hear," she whispered quietly.

With his anger cooling down, Dastan gently pulled his hand away. Instead, choosing to wrap his arms around the princess. Forcing her to meet his gaze, he asked, "I have your trust, princess?"

"Yes," she nodded, a light redness spreading across her cheeks.

"Should be flattered by that charming blush delbar-am," teased Dastan. Shocked at his use of the Persian endearment, Azrael shook her head, stepping back.

Like a little mouse, Dastan thought staring after his finance as she ran from him. The Persian Lion realized he had pounced too soon on his little prey. Allowing her escape would be the smartest move for now but he would catch her eventually.

Azrael's feet couldn't carry her fast enough as she raced up the palace steps, heading towards her room. She had always expected to marry; for the sake of her kingdom and people an alliance was always going to be in her future. She didn't; however, plan to have such strong feelings for her intended. For the first time in her life, her heart was beating faster than a hummingbirds just by Dastan's nearness.

Reaching the sanctity of her room, Azrael barred herself in the chamber and took a deep breath to calm her rampant nervous. A water jug was sitting at her table along with a clean glass. Deciding to quench her thirst, Azrael poured herself some water. Taking a long gulp, she noticed a hint of aftertaste in the liquid. Choking on her drink, Azrael found it harder and harder to breathe. Her throat began closing in. Her vision began to blur. Her legs gave way and the princess lost all consciousness as she fell to the floor.

In the dining, Dastan found the seat next to him occupied by a woman who was not his bride-to-be. Nadia had swiftly walked in and claimed the seat as her own. The woman was a parasite, latching on to him despite his obvious disinterest in continuing their affair. Dastan was more invested in the location of his princess. He had been sure she would appear again at dinner after running off in the stables. Deciding to take matters into his own hand, Dastan encouraged the others to begin their meal before excusing himself. Azrael had been placed in the chamber next to his, making that the first location in his search. He knocked lightly on her door before calling out her name but there was no answer. Discovering that the door was unlocked, he pulled open the doors and made his way in.

"Azrael," he shouted, finding his bride lying still on the floor. He called out for help as he tried to shake her awake. "Wake up, princess," he said.

Swiftly, guards and his family started rushing into the room. "What's happened," his father demanded?

"Sire, she's been poisoned," one of the guards deduced, picking up the empty watch glass Azrael had dropped.

"No," Dastan denied. "Wake up! Wake up for me, delbar-am."

Preoccupied with worry, Dastan hadn't noticed the palace physician enter until he was already checking on Azrael. "She still has a pulse," the physician stated. "Prince Dastan, help place her on the bed."

Soon after, they were all forcibly dismissed as the healers went to work. Dastan placed the hall outside his princesses door like a caged lion; calling out for blood. His mood was horrid and his patience was extremely short with anyone daring to speak to him.