This is the last week of Rule Of Three ~ Through Writing, We Reveal.
Today, I conclude my version of Renaissance using the prompts:
* The final event becomes another secret for generations to come.
* There is a new arrival in town.
My final word count, including title is 597 words.
To read my entire story, click below on each installment.
Week I ~ Atiya ~ The Gift
Week II ~ Abd-Al-Aziz ~ Servant of the Powerful
Week III ~ Lord Sayid ~ The Master
And now, the final piece...
Asrar Amelle ~ Secret Hope
Filigree crystals frosted the square panes, winter's final protest before spring's uprising. Perched before the window, staring out to glimpse the Roundeli Mountains nestled around her home, she seemed young and fragile, vulnerable.
Abd-Al-Aziz almost pitied her.
“Excellent!” Aziz lavished her with praise. “You have harnessed the power well. This is your greatest weapon; you must never forget. Above all else, the sons of Adam are ruled by their emotions. Guide and direct their feelings, and gain mastery over whom you will.”
“Yes, Uncle,” she answered dutifully. “When am I to face my adversary?”
“Soon, niece, very soon,” Aziz assured. “Guard yourself diligently. Prince Sevdalja may wield great power - as does his father, Suleiman the Magnificent. As you seek influence over him, Almirah, princess, beware! Prince Sevdalja is cunning as the wolf! And what does the wolf do, niece?”
“He circles stealthily, flanking his opponent and ambushing unsuspecting prey, Uncle.”
“You have spoken well. Now heed my warnings, child, and fulfill your destiny.”
He softened, holding his arms open to embrace her.
“I love you as my own child, Amelle. Never forget that.”
Abd-Al-Aziz kissed the top of her head.
“Now go and oversee your packing. We descend the mountain, entering this new Renaissance when the weather breaks.”
Carrying herself with a stately bearing worthy of the princess she was, Asrar Amelle paused, turning almost imperceptibly.
“Uncle,” she addressed quietly, “What of my eyes?”
* * *
Renaissance was steeped in pageantry, not its usual state, but with Prince Sevdalja's arrival, the settlers sought to impress the man likely to become their ruler. Rumor abounded that his father, Suleiman, neared the end of this life's journey.
Abd-Al-Aziz inspected the rented apartments.
“These will suffice,” he consented, signaling one servant to remit the necessary coin, and the others to begin hauling in the trunks.
Aziz wandered into the walled courtyard, alive with spring's blossoms so far below the mountains. Images of Atiya and Sayid rose in his mind, the assaulting memories haunting him.
That fateful day.
Sayid and Atiya had willingly given themselves into Suleiman's power to save their daughter.
* * *
The reception line dragged on, each province's minister eager to enamor the prince and gain favor. Abd-Al-Aziz readied to play the piece his lord's sacrifice had saved those many years ago.
Gain the Prince's heart and by doing so, the Persian Empire, loosing the seventy Djinn Suleiman imprisoned unjustly.
It was by wielding the power of the Djinn that Suleiman had forged his vast empire; with a child of the Djinn on the throne, perhaps the tribes would at last unite, ending centuries of civil war.
But all rested on his student. And her eyes.
Half-human, Amelle was more sensitive, and when inundated with emotion, her eyes took on the otherworldly glow, proclaiming her origins.
Here, it would seal her doom.
Prince Sevdalja bowed politely.
“Noble prince,” Abd-Al-Aziz greeted formally, “Allow me to present Princess Asrar Amelle.”
The breath left his body in a rush, terror and defeat threatening his sanity in an instant. Amelle lifted her gaze to meet Prince Sevdalja's mahogany stare, a strange energy thrumming through the air, unnoticed by the humans surrounding them. Aziz, however, was not human.
“Welcome, Daughter of the Djinn,” Prince Sevdalja whispered near her ear, bending to kiss her cheek in custom. “I've been expecting you.”
Asrar Amelle's amber eyes flashed in awareness, a rare golden display before she buried her emotions.
Asrar Amelle ~ Secret Hope © Nadja Notariani 2011