Zahra, Not Sara

Zahra couldn't have moved if she'd wanted to. Exhausted, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to rest.

For the time being.

But before Zahra could follow through with any hasty plans of escape, there was Alexander again, entering his personal chambers. Zahra closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep, but she knew better than to think she'd fooled him.

"How are you?" Alexander asked, and Zahra had no choice but to open her eyes and respond.

"I think I'll be fine in a few minutes," she said, shuddering and looking away. All she could think about was the fact that this room had borne witness to more women than just herself...

But, no. That wasn't all. It had also borne witness to a broken young man whose soul desperately yearned for satisfaction.

Zahra wasn't accustomed to feeling any sort of sympathy for reckless rogues such as the one who stood before her, but she found herself feeling a pang of pity, along with repulsion, for the man who now assumed the role of her caretaker.

"Zahra, not Sara, huh?" the prince murmured, turning from the invalid and walking over to one of the many wardrobes. He opened the wardrobe and retrieved the last thing Zahra had been expecting: a delicate silver crown, one clearly made for a woman.

"Whose is that?" Zahra asked.

Alexander gave a nervous chuckle. "See, the thing is..." He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know how to say this."

Zahra waited.

"It was made for someone not unlike you."

The End

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