Thank you to SloaneDestler, peanutpup, phanrose, lindaweng, amandarhoads, RubenesqueRomantic, and Mominator124 for the lovely reviews!
Fun fact and disclaimer: Like with the Golestan Palace, the Mirror Hall within the palace is an actual place. However, I have taken creative license and am making Mirror Hall larger than it actually is, as well as changing a bit of its design. No disrespect to actual Mirror Hall intended; it is a beautiful place and worthy of visiting, at least through pictures, and full of incredible history worth researching - however, like the royalty, the palace has merely been modified for the story.
Enjoy!
Christine
Chapter 78
The Impostor
I was lying awake in bed the day after visiting Erik. I stared at the sunbeams on the ceiling, feeling Ayesha purring next to me, when I heard the front door of Ibrahim's chamber open. I heard loud, raucous laughter. Two men. One was definitely Ibrahim.
He'd been away the whole day, meeting with the Shah and various officials - so he'd told me. And now, in the late afternoon, he was finally back. I was finding that I hated when he was away. I didn't like being alone; even if Ayesha was here.
I rose from the bed and went to the study door. As I did so, I heard the voices grow softer. More intimate.
Carefully, I opened the door and peeked out.
There Ibrahim was, hands cupping Prince Izad's face, both of them profile to me. With immense tenderness and love, he brought his lips to meet the Prince's. At first, the kiss was gentle - but it soon became urgent and heavy. Ibrahim's brows creased and he closed his eyes. I could see him losing himself the way I often lost myself in Erik. Feeling thoroughly as though I were invading upon their privacy, I closed my door.
Moments later, I heard their voices once more, deep and throaty. Footsteps. Then silence.
When I peeked out again, I saw that Ibrahim's bedroom door - previously opened - was now closed.
Days passed. Days turned into weeks. And every hour was more torturous than the last. Every day I wondered and fretted after Erik's wellbeing - was he eating enough? Were they giving him clean water? Letting him bathe? Was he lonely? Was he breaking apart?
The constant worry was causing me to bite my nails to their beds. I'd started chewing the skin around them as well - so often, in fact, that the tips of some of my fingers were bloody. I was having trouble eating and sleeping. And all of this happened when I was alone in Ibrahim's study, two locked doors between me and the palace beyond.
The Grand Vizier noticed my anxiety and offered what comfort he was able: bringing me with him as he went to various meetings in the palace.
I did not even care that people would stare at me. Talk about me. I wanted the distraction, as unpleasant as it was.
"You will not be expected to talk," he told me while I tied my shoes on my feet. "Even if you could speak or understand Persian, you will be expected to remain silent." He watched my fingers work. "We will not be meeting with the Shah today - I already met with him this morning. But we will be dining once more in the Mirror Hall. While there, I advise you - no, tell you - to merely focus on your food. Do not look at anyone in the eye; do not speak to me, unless it is urgent."
I nodded. Of course.
I knew that this would only make him have to work extra hard at being being an impostor - not only did he have to put on a show of dominance and charm, he would have to pretend that he felt I was beneath him as well. One slip of his body language and people would ask questions.
"Thank you, Ibrahim, for..." I paused and looked up at him. "For everything."
"You and Erik have both already thanked me."
"Yes. I know. But without your help, I'm not sure... And the lengths you are going to to make sure he and I are as comfortable as we can be-"
"It is no trouble." But he was smiling gently.
I started tying my other shoe. "Even just the fact that you say it's no trouble; how selfless and generous you've been- Oh!" I looked at him again. "We never got you a Christmas present in return."
He blinked and then laughed. "No, I suppose not. But do not worry. I do not want anything."
"Erik said the same thing," I said, feeling bile rise from my stomach at the mere mention of him. "He said that he wanted nothing but me for Christmas."
Ibrahim nodded slowly. "I told you before - he loves you very much."
"I love him, too." I swallowed my nausea down. "Are you sure you don't want anything?"
"There's not much you or Erik could get me without going through another person to obtain that thing - and how, exactly, would that work for either of you? You are not allowed anywhere without me, and Erik is - well, he cannot currently leave his living quarters, either."
That was undeniably true.
I merely felt guilty.
"I could draw you a picture," I murmured, offering him the same gift I'd offered Erik Christmas morning.
I'd finished tying my shoes. Ibrahim offered me his hands. I took them and he pulled me to my feet. "Anything material I can easily obtain for myself - I am the Grand Vizier of Persia, Christine." He winked and let go of my hands. "The only thing I want is the Prince - and the best gift from you or Erik or anyone is continual acceptance - normalization, if you will - of my relationship with him. No shows of surprise. No looking away. No different treatment. Acceptance. That is what I wish for."
I could do that. For all he'd done for us, I could give him that. "Done."
"Excellent." He gave a short bow of his head and stepped lightly to his chamber door. I followed. "Now, remember. You are currently my slave. You must walk behind me. I may speak harshly to you in front of the members of court - it is merely for show. Do not be alarmed by any of my behavior toward you."
I nodded, face calm, but wanted to snort. The level of acting I had to do, had to watch, with Ibrahim had absolutely nothing on how I'd needed to behave with Erik. What I'd been forced to watch him do in front of me, without being 'alarmed'.
So we walked.
I kept pace behind him. No guards this time - not as many political enemies, I supposed, as Erik had. I was sure he had some, but it was the Shah and Erik whom people likely associated with tyranny and death. No, Ibrahim's hands seemed to be clean, and his relaxed posture as he stepped through the halls was proof of that. Rather than an entourage, he appeared to be relying on his innocence, as well as the constant posted men at every corner and doorway, for safety.
Besides, I decided, Ibrahim did have a disarming presence - when he wanted to. When he wasn't portraying the picture of authoritativeness, he smiled at servants and nodded to guards. And the moment those servants or guards recognized that it was him - and not, say, Erik or the Shah - they visibly released a breath and bowed.
We walked, and I kept my gaze mostly down, until we came to the Mirror Hall again. My first instinct was to run, to feel utterly sick, remembering exactly what had happened the last couple of times I'd been here. But I made myself remember: the Shah was not here. And Ibrahim was right next to me. He would be next to me the whole time. Nothing bad would happen today.
And nothing bad did.
Actually, the dinner was...boring. Not that I was complaining. Boring was better than many of its alternatives, especially given my position and where I was, who I was with. But after Ibrahim spoke harshly to me in French to sit next to him - no pleasantries or smiles about it - he didn't address me at all. I was left entirely alone. I recognized a few of the men present at the table from the first dinner I'd attended, where Erik had performed his teapot trick. The men, of course, recognized me as well, though they stayed quiet.
My mind wandered, though luckily, I was able to keep thoughts of Erik (mostly) at bay. I instead looked at the enormous mirrors on the walls. They were everywhere - floor to ceiling, on the ceiling itself; and as I looked at them, I wondered...
Did Echo Hall run behind this room? Was it similar to the Khanum's chambers, in that they were two-way mirrors? Were Echoes currently watching me as I looked, unbeknownst to me, right back at them?
I shuddered and looked down at my wine.
I likely wouldn't ever know.
