4. Marry Me

Then he squeezed her hand firmly and leaned in close, whispering into her ear so only she could hear, "Say yes, okay? It's the only way to save you."

Zainab was still, unsure of what to do. She whispered to herself, 'No, please. There must be another way out of this. It cannot be just to marry the prince.'

"Abomination," murmured the court elders.

Zainab's big brown eyes darted around the room, noticing the looks of disgust directed towards her. She lowered her gaze to the floor once more.

"You speak nonsense! You cannot marry a slave girl!" the king barked, his anger palpable. Zainab feared he might draw a sword and harm her at any moment.

"And why is that?" the crown prince asked uninterested, his gaze fixed on Zainab with a sudden glint in his eyes. "Look at me, dear," he whispered softly, completely disregarding everyone else in the room. None of them mattered to him except for this slave girl before him.

Zainab slowly raised her head, locking eyes with his catlike brown gaze. Her succulent lips parted as she took in his features—his full brows and thick lashes were so delicate that she could almost mistake him for a girl disguised as a man, so beautiful was he. But this was all wrong. She couldn't marry the prince. That wasn't why she had ended up here. Zainab had endured hardships on the streets before finally finding her way to this place. Marrying the prince would jeopardize all she had fought for, putting her goals to a sudden end.

"My prince..." she began.

"Will you..." he cut her off, sensing her hesitation, "marry me?" His voice rang out loudly for all to hear.

The queen interjected sharply, "You cannot. You are my only son, the crown prince. You cannot marry a girl of such low class."

Prince Lekan disregarded his mother's objections, as well as the murmurs from the elders and the scrutinizing gaze of his father. Leaning towards Zainab, his voice soft and soothing against her skin, he pleaded, "Dear, don't say no," with a gentle smile.

Zainab was so fixated on his handsome face that she wasn't even aware of the word that had escaped her lips, "Yes."

"You imbecile, you thief! How dare you!" the king barked, striding determinedly towards them. As Zainab had feared, he unsheathed a sword from one of the guards' wrists.

Zainab felt panic rising within her. Her eyes widened, chest heaving with fear. Was this the end? Could the prince possibly save her from his father? Perhaps he shouldn't have proposed to marry her. Saying that he gave her the jewelry should have been enough, right?

Prince Lekan swiftly positioned himself in front of Zainab, standing as a shield between her and his enraged father, who had closed in on them. "Hurting her means hurting me. Do I need to repeat that?" His voice was firm, eyes darkening and narrowing at his father. "She is mine, and no one will dare touch her." His gaze swept across the room. "Not a single one of you seated here."

The king paused, anger flashing in his eyes. He remained rooted to his spot, unwilling to harm his son. For now, he couldn't possibly do anything.

Prince Lekan turned to his mother, who stood behind the king, and issued a command, "Prepare our wedding, mother. I want it grand enough for the entire kingdom to witness."

The queen stood in shock, mouth agape, gazing at her son as if he were a stranger.

The crown prince took Zainab's hand and began leading her out of the courtroom, disregarding the murmurs and gasps around them.

Once they were outside the room, Zainab came to an abrupt stop, her eyes fixed on the ground. This caused the prince to halt and turn towards her. "Is something wrong?" he inquired.

Zainab remained silent, prompting him to continue, "Ah, getting married to me must come as quite a shock."

"You told me it was to save me," she whispered, "Thank you." What else was she to say? He was the prince; she couldn't possibly question him. And though marriage seemed like too much, she now realized it was the only way to save her life.

A smile graced his face as he gently patted her hair, his long fingers running through the black curly strands that fell over her face. With a soft touch, he tucked a loose strand behind her ear. "From now on, you are no longer a slave but a royal," he declared in a whisper that sent shivers down her spine. "You will be my wife, treated with respect equal to every royal. Once the crown adorns your head, you have the same rights as me. You may do as you please."

"My prince," Zainab bit her lip, "I can't. I am just a slave. I don't know how." She glanced down at her bare feet, hands clasped nervously.

He sighed, taking her hands once more. "Let's get you changed for now."

Zainab's eyes widened as she followed the prince. In one day, her life had taken a drastic turn of being accused of theft and now to marry a prince she barely knew.

Her heart raced as she walked with him down the corridor, aware of the curious glances from other slave maids peering out. By tomorrow, news of the prince's proposal would spread throughout the kingdom. What about the king, queen, and elders? Would they still see her as a mere slave? She attempted to pull her hand away, but he held it firmly, as if anticipating her escape.

As she caught the scrutinizing gazes of her fellow slaves, Zainab felt a pang of uncertainty. She couldn't discern who her true friends were anymore, not knowing who might have planted the stolen jewelry among her belongings. Perhaps they gazed at her out of curiosity, wondering why she was with the prince when her head should have been hanging on a pole.

"Here," the crown prince interrupted her thoughts.

Zainab looked ahead and saw a grand double door looming before her , this path of the palace was the the royal quarters.

"My chamber is at the end of the corridor; you will be staying here," he pointed towards the grand door. "I will arrange for some maidens to attend to you."

Zainab shifted her gaze from the door to the prince, bewildered. Who was this prince, truly? Why was he being so... Kind?