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The knowledge kept her focused on her work. She was weaving fabrics together today for a woman whose daughter would be married in three months. The woman wanted nothing but the best and she had the money to throw at things like expensive fabrics and custom dresses. And rightly so. After all, this was her daughter’s first and only marriage. As far as Keisha knew, the woman had no other children anyway and this marriage was important to the overall well-being of the family.
Keisha kept her head down and sewed the beautiful, white fabrics together. She even was allowed to use golden thread to embroider along the edges of the fabrics, something she had never been able to afford for herself.
This would be the closest she ever came to such a lovely dress.
She worked so hard that day that she did not even notice the slightly heated conversation or the man who appeared at her little station there in the market—she could have taken her work home with her, since she likely would not be taking on any new projects until this one was finished, but she enjoyed being outside amongst the people.
It was not until the man cleared his voice, that Keisha realized someone was there.
She jerked her head up and stared at him with eyes wide as saucers. It was the man from before, Ahmed. He was still flanked by his two guards and he wore an easy, brilliant smile. He was looking down at her curiously.
“You have wonderful works here,” he commented brightly.
Keisha swallowed harshly and stuttered out a, “Thank you.”
His smile widened. “I was wondering if you were making that for your own wedding?” he asked casually, motioning to the fabric in her hands.
At his suggestion, she actually laughed out loud. She shook her head immediately. “Oh, no! Of course not. This is far too expensive for me. I only make the dresses,” she explained lightly with a smile, but his own dropped slightly.
“What do you mean too expensive for you? How could a woman as beautiful as you not deserve the most expensive luxury in the world?”
He had asked so earnestly, so sincerely, that for a moment Keisha was speechless. She stared at him with wide open eyes and shook her head, taking a moment to come back to herself. A blush had crept across her cheeks, though she kept her chin up and met Ahmed’s eyes without flinching.
“My beauty, as you put it, is not linked to my personal… wealth,” she explained carefully. “I am who I am and this is my job, my work. I have no time or money for frivolous things; I need to work.”
He seemed startled by her response and before he could come up with an answer, one of the guards stepped forward angrily. His voice was deep and menacing as he told her, “You will not address Prince Ahmed Kandalama in such a manner! He demands your full and complete respect and you will apologize immediately!”
Keisha’s eyes widened. This man was not a traveling dignitary or some foreign ambassador. He was not a noble or some wealthy businessman who had amassed enough wealth to earn himself a guard.
No, this was the Sheikh’s own only son.
Keisha paled and momentarily was positive she would feint. She could feel herself begin to shake and she wondered if they would arrest her for speaking out of turn to a crown prince. But then the Prince held up a hand, patting the guard casually and almost patronizingly, still staring at Keisha.
“Don’t be so harsh, Corrin,” he said easily, but with just the tiniest hint of force behind it. “I invited her honest answer. It was my misstep.” And then he winked at her.
Keisha retold the story in earnest, forgetting where she was and who was sitting just across from her. Both of Ahmed’s sisters were watching her with eyes drawn to near slits and smiles fractured, only barely held in place by plaster or a personal determination.
But Keisha didn’t even notice. She was so lost in that first memory of Ahmed and all the ones that followed. He’d continued to visit her after that. The first two times were… curious and he must have realized that soon people would begin to talk about them.
And not in a positive way.
The third time, he actually came with a job for her. She was still working on the wedding dress for the woman, but it would be done soon and of course she would take any job given to her by a crown prince.
He commissioned her to create a dress for his mother. It had to be bright ruby red with gold lining and embroidery and even gems embedded in it. He told Keisha that it would have to be nothing but the best for his mother—and he also said that was why he had come to her.
When she had finished with that job, she was given another. This one was again a dress, but for one of his sisters—the littlest if she remembered correctly—and it had to be in cherry blossom pink.
Again and again he returned to her with more work, commissioned beautiful dresses from her. Ones that she would never wear, of course, but were beautiful all the same and on occasion she had wished she might wear one.
Then, one day, he came to her with a job that was slightly different than the others. He said he wanted it in a burgundy color with embroidered flowers lining the edges of it. He had given her the measurements and Keisha assumed it was once again for a family member, but when it was complete, he wrapped it up in a box and presented it to her.
He had told her, “I asked you to make it, because I could not find a single person here with more skill and I wanted you to have the very best.”
She had never had the courage to wear it, but she longed to. She still had the strange, wonderful gift and remembered how he had snuck away from his guards that day, only for a moment, and pressed a searing kiss to her lips. How he had asked for a thousand more kisses—and then more—until she wanted nothing more than to be with him always.
The clearing of a throat brought Keisha back to the present and reminded her that his two sisters were still sitting there in the room.
They had fixed their faces and once more wore inviting, kind expressions. “Such a romantic story,” Naiad said, though the words came out slightly dry. “A true love story, would you not agree, Mahira?”
