NOVGO.NET Chapter 412: A Failed Marriage
Chapter 412: A Failed Marriage
***
{Outside The Projection}
“You look better.”
Ah… indeed. Those words that rolled out in that low, steady way of his, with no warmth, no hint of exactly who they were meant for, held a lot more meaning.
Yet he was wrong, at least to a point, because they now knew.
They knew exactly how much those words meant to him.
And for both the women on the screen, it was enough.
Rather, it was way more than enough.
Layla, though feeling unworthy of such a compliment, had her lips curve faintly, forming a smile that wasn’t meant to be seen, belonging to a moment she’d only keep for herself.
Dunya’s already softened eyes softened further, her fingers curling into Sinbad’s fluff, her mind holding onto the echo of her big brother’s voice, repeating it over and over again.
Yes, only now did Malik finally see them, realizing their beauty.
Finally realizing what he once was entirely unable to.
Like her once husband in the projection, Layla’s mind couldn’t help but bring up that night, before the campfire, where Malik replied to one of the teasing bastards with “I wouldn’t know” when he called her beautiful, saying that Malik was lucky to be sitting with her.
Oh, how wrong he was.
Even though, and again, Malik’s words made her feel so very good, enough to want to rub it in Noor’s face, showing that even her one so-called victory against him was nothing, she denied them, deeming them far from the truth.
Yes, he was wrong about her.
She was ugly.
So very ugly.
After all… only someone with such ugliness could abandon her husband so.
And Dunya, who agreed with her thoughts, stared her down.
’If only…’
Sinbad covered her further, providing her with much-needed warmth.
’If only he allowed it.’
***
{Inside The Projection}
The quiet stretched for a moment after that.
Malik’s eyes drifted from Layla to Azeem, and a small nod passed between them.
That was enough; there was no questioning it; he’d chosen his wife.
Layla was the one.
Azeem’s face revealed a smile—one of those polished court smiles meant to put weight on words—and stepped forward.
“The wife has been chosen. The rest of you may leave.”
A low murmur rippled through the women, silk and perfume shifting in restless waves, finding this incredibly unfair and completely random.
The woman Layla had replaced earlier, the one who had stood before the throne with that forced dignity, was the only one bold enough, or stupid enough, to speak up, letting her complaints be known:
“You can’t treat us like this!”
Her painted lips curved into a sneer.
“She’s not special! Lord Malik can take another wife!”
An ugly one.
“All Sultans do… at least four.”
Azeem’s brow twitched, and before she could push it any further, he gestured for the guards, silently ordering them to clear her and the rest of them out.
The guards, immediately understanding his intentions, began to advance through the women while forcing them to move along at the same time, creating a pushing tide.
Still at the front, the brat’s glare faltered as she saw them approach, making her mutter something under her breath and quickly step aside, joining the leaving tide, not wanting to be the next one to be burned alive.
Soon, they were gone, leaving only Layla and Dunya, who had yet to pause their kneeling.
The scent of that brat’s perfume and the others lingered unpleasantly, but not for a moment longer, as with a flap of Sinbad’s tiny wing, the entire hall was almost instantly cleaned out, making it pleasant once more.
Malik lifted a hand, his fingers brushing Sinbad’s head.
He gave him a faint pat both as thanks and instruction.
The owl, knowing what to do, launched down in a smooth sweep, only to pause before Layla.
He hovered in front of her, pink eyes studying her soul. Layla stared back, reading something in the owl’s gaze, before her eyes shifted toward Malik.
“Thank you… for choosing me.”
Malik said nothing; instead, he rose from the throne and started toward a side corridor.
“My Lord.”
Azeem fell into step behind him without needing to be called.
“Do you want to hear the report?”
Malik gave a slight tilt of his head.
“Her Thousand Nights had a resurgence over the past twelve years.”
Azeem’s tone shifted into something more measured.
“A steady climb… until a decline set in. And no less than three days ago, she ceased operations entirely.”
They passed a row of columns as Shamslight cut in through the spaces, striping Malik’s face in gold and shadow.
“That was…”
Azeem hesitated before adding:
“That wasn’t long after you burned everyone in that town.”
Malik’s eyes lifted slightly—the faintest widening.
“…So you’re telling me her people were there?”
Azeem’s answer came without hesitation:
“Yes, my Lord.”
Malik’s steps slowed as Azeem went on:
“She likely sold all her supplies and gave the money as reparations to the families.”
A faint hum escaped Malik, now understanding the undeniable.
“So… the reason she came to marry her enemy… was to get coin.”
He glanced ahead, almost as if speaking to the air.
“To save her father’s dream. The caravan.”
They walked a few more paces.
“…We’ll hold the ceremony tonight.”
Azeem bowed his head immediately, the gesture absolute, fully trusting in his Lord.
“As you command.”
They parted at the next corridor, Azeem’s steps fading into the distance while Malik found himself drawn toward a narrow window.
Outside, the late Shams was falling over the courtyards, making the same of what was done to his face, turning the roofs to gold and the streets to shadow.
’I can at least take care of her now.’
The thought came without warmth, but it stayed.
He was fulfilling his promise to Rehan at last.
A liar, he was no longer.
***
{Outside The Projection}
Many had internally asked a question earlier.
One that was answered before they’d even realized it.
There was no doubt about it now…
Malik had chosen her for her father’s sake.
It would’ve been funny if it weren’t so damned tragic.
Huda had once thought the same, early on, when they were still deciding whether they should despise Malik or not, believing that he saved her and cared for her only because of Sinbad.
Now, Layla seemed to carry that same wound, except hers was deeper, heavier.
Malik only cared for her because of Rehan, her father.
Of course, she was wrong in thinking that, but it didn’t matter.
Even though it wasn’t at all the truth, that had no voice here… a massive contradiction.
Layla’s current expression wasn’t loud, but the pain on it was obvious; whatever happiness remained was thinning with every heartbeat, every memory clawing at the surface.
She might have looked the picture of dignity, yet the weight of the moment pressed down on her shoulders, bending her frame by invisible inches.
Dunya, on the other hand, remained much the same.
Her soft, almost dreamlike smile hadn’t faded once, as though she were holding on to a warmth that no one else could see.
The contrast between them felt almost cruel.
Everyone else already saw it… the marriage had already failed before it began.
A bond that wasn’t really a bond at all, and, so unfortunately for her, it would not remain a quiet shame.
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