The city of Loh prospered under the gaze of King Zaid. It had turned from being a fertile land of farmers to one full of opulence as the King and his family settled there. King Zaid's family had been the ruling family for hundreds of years already but it was not until he took over that things changed—drastically. His policies had turned the revenue generation and the kingdom had never been as prosperous. The people all but worshiped him for his loyalty and service. He carried with him an aura of mystery, a darkness shrouded his shoulders almost always and the one that faced the brunt of it all was his advisor, Akbar. His younger brother.

Akbar was the youngest out of seven siblings. With Zaid being the eldest followed by three more brothers, Zain, Zafar and Zafran. As well as two sisters Alia and Alina. Unfortunately, Akbar had fallen from graces after he married an Egyptian slave girl—a gift from the Egyptian King to Zaid on his coronation. It had been love at first sight and Akbar had ditched his noble blood fiancée for Yumna. As if to make the wound deeper, the couple had not been blessed with a child until ten years after marriage. A daughter. Akbar had been given a daughter by God and it was a sign of a hated union according to Zaid.

Akbar's daughter was blessed with the most softest of skins. It was dark like melted chocolate made of purely cocoa beans. Her silken black tresses were like softest of cotton with light waves, like the calm sea of the south. Her slender body that moved gently as she tread lightly on her feet, feline eyes with long curled lashes and molten umber for orbs. Full heart shaped lips with a cupids bow and swan like neck. Samra was like her name, a dark skinned princess. At eighteen, she was undoubtedly the one that people would most desire, even more than the King's daughters—that was if they got to see her.

Samra was kept behind the doors of her parents haveli within the large palace. Special orders from the King himself, ofcourse. Her father to him was a valuable treasure but he did not find it pleasing to have a slave's daughter walk infront of the many guests present in the abode at all times. However, Samra liked it that way. The privacy of her home did good to her introverted self. Where she spent time learning about her mother's land and experimenting in their humble kitchen. Sometimes she would sneak up to the private gardens where the ladies of the palace studied, wondering what it would be like to hold a feather and write her own name. Maybe, that would be the perfect gift for her nineteenth birthday.

The palace was built on an uncountable acres of land. Sandstone, marble and granite were used in plenty to craft the pillars of the place. Arched gateways that lead from one section of the palace to the other. Iron wrought arched gates that kept the privacy of the women's areas. The opulence of the place was unmatched. With large glass chandeliers and plenty of courtyards with seasonal and exotic plants of all kinds. Diwans for the king to entertain his men and family were littered across the property. Large domes crafted with great precision, inlays and artwork of peacocks and elephants covered the walls. The detail in the murals—extraordinary.

Inside the arched gateways, and windows lattice work made of red stone was laid. It provided privacy to the women, allowing them to freely gaze at the matches of polo and King's audience with his courtiers without having to forgo the rules of common courtesy. While within family, free mixing of the genders occurred it was a big no to appear infront of the King's ambassadors and visitors. Samra's favourite part though, were the jharoka's. The stone windows that looked over the tiny herb garden of her mother and the man-made pool gave her a sense of calmness. The trees that leaned over the cover of the window, gave easy access to oranges in the winter and Samra enjoyed snacking on nature's bounty. Not to mention, it was the perfect place to lounge at as the sun set and cast its warm, orange glow on her dark skin.

Samra's life was a bit different from her cousin sister's. Their parents were pure nobility and their blood was not tainted. Words she was acquainted with as a seven year old. The cruelty of the palace women was hid from the populace, who were ready to give lives for them. Still her heart was wrapped in the lace of innocence and she hoped for a day where her family would love her. All her aunts and uncles had been blessed with son's. Raising their ranks by a few notches. Only the king had three daughters, after four sons. To him it was the sign of successful union—with his two wives ofcourse.

Stumbling out of her tiny residence, Samra leaped into the garden. Searching for her ginger kitten. The cat was a stray that Samra had begged her parents to let her keep. Promising to give up a tiny portion of her food for the pet. Life as the advisor's family was not all that. Infact her father was the most lowly paid advisor, King Zaid had annouced it as Akbar's duty to his brother and had reduced the pay from five hundred rupees to just a meagre one hundred. Lower than the average person's in the kingdom.

"Samra what are you doing?" Yumna stared at her daughter, her hands placed on her hips.

"I was looking for billo," she sighed.

Yumna tsked, walking towards her and using the back of her palm to wipe the sweat off of her brow. Lifting her chin up with two fingers, Yumna stared in deep contemplation. The innocence in her daughters expressive eyes clawed at her heart.

"She is with your father. He took her to the hakeem," Yumna smiled.

Samra nodded, following her mother into their home. Her orange chiffon lehnga brushed the grass, tan embroidered shoes on her feet that looked extremely worn out. Her anklets making chiming sounds with each movement.

"Nashta kia karna hai?" [What do you want for breakfast?] Yumna enquired.

Smiling at their small staff as they walked into the kitchen. They had a total of three kaneez and two guards. There was not much to guard in their haveli save for their daughter. With Yumna hailing from a line of slaves and Akbar falling from his family's graces, they were not the targets for anyone's attack.

"Surprise me," Samra leaned on her hand.

The top half of her body gently laying on the marble island, sneakily stealing a few raw peas from the bronze platter. For which a slap was instantly thrown on the back of her hand, her mother's eyes narrowed.

"Tameez. Raat ko ap ki dadi nai ana hai isi wajah sai khanay ki tiyaari ho rahi hai. Samjhein ap?" [Behave. Your grandmother is coming in the evening which is why we are preparing for the food. Understood?] Yumna silently reprimanded.

"Oho. Yaani eik arsay keh baad biryani khanay ko milay gi," [Oh. So it means we'll get to eat Biryani after such a long time,] she sighed dreamily.

Her eye lids fluttering as the index finger of her left hand tap against her lips. A small smile gracing them as she imagined the spicy saffron infused rice coat her tounge in it's warmth. A silent moan escaping her lips at just the thought of it.

"As you wish. Now come on, your father is waiting for us," her mother gripped her hand.

The maids following behind them with the breakfast. Simple porridge topped with fruits and fresh honey. Along with boiled eggs and jugs of freshly squeezed lemonade. A perfect summer breakfast. The small dinning room of the home was built on the first floor. It had slanted walls with plenty of windows. Brass and copper carved into the walls with murals of a grand battle painted along the walls. Pillars made of fine plaster lining the walls, and lattice windows alternated with jharokas. The walls and plenty of windows allowed for cool wind to move freely into the room despite it being June.

"Salam vizier". Samra launched into his arms.

Akbar grinned, wrapping them around her tighter, lifting her into the air before settling her back onto the ground. Kissing her forehead as he warmly took Yumna's hand in his own. Motioning for the handmaiden to serve them before they left. In the silence, the bronze cutlery with the family's symbol made silent noises again the bowls of porridge. Samra eat silently, contemplating inside her head on how to ask for her birthday gift. Her father was a busy man and she barely saw him out of the heavy paperwork the king sent his way.

Clearing her throat, Samra took a deep breath.

"Baba," [dad,] she began softly.

Continuing only when she had her father's undivided attention.

"I know what I want for my birthday," she announced.

Noticing the expressions on Akbar's face go from relaxed to tense. His forehead creasing as he tiredly rubbed the scruffy beard he had. Nodding his head at her to continue.

"I—I want to learn how to write". She murmured.

There she said it. Samra high fived herself in her head. Her heartbeat racing as she waited for him to make a decision.

"I'll talk to King Zaid about it," he smiled uncomfortably.

"Why?" Samra questioned.

"Samra there are things that happen that your mother and I don't want you to know. Okay? However just think of it as informing the king what occurs inside his kingdom". He patted her hand softly.

"And don't you think you should ask for something else?" Yumna whispered.

Her daughter was legally a princess and should not be asking for her bare minimum rights on her birthday.

"Well—there is something," she grinned.

"Anklets and fabirc?" Her parents spoke in unison.

Samra nodded her head eagerly. Taking a spoonful of lukewarm porridge as she waited for their judgement. Her fingers crossed under the table.

"Samra it's going to be the end of the month so I don't know—but if I have enough I'll buy you whatever you like. Okay?" Akbar sighed.

"Okay," she replied, her voice small and silent.

Hiding the tears inside her eyes, Samra excused herself. Rushing to the small backyard of their home. Underneath the jasmine tree she found her kitten and hugged to her chest. Sobbing into its fur silently. Wondering why her life was like this. Meanwhile inside the dinning room, Yumna tightened her grip on Akbar's hand. Both of them sitting in silent misery.

"Usko apnay baap sai mangtay waqt sochna bhi nahi chahiye!" [She shouldn't even have to think while asking from her father!] Akbar was heartbroken.

"Akbar, Samra samjhdar hai. Ap apnay ap ko aziyat mat dejiye. Sab behtar ho jaye ga. Waqt tou anay dejiye," [is intelligent. Don't give yourself pain. Things will get better. Just let the time come,] Yumna comforted.

"She's a kid! Uska baap eik shehzada ha—" [Her father is a prince—]
"Thay. Ap shehzaday thay. Ab ap unki nazar mein sirf eik mamooli mulazim hain. Aur yeh gunnah hai humari beti ka," [Were. You were a prince. Now in their eyes you are just a servant. And that is the sin of our daughter,] Yuman choked on her breath.

Before the two could continue their discussion, Samra stepped in. Her hands gripping onto the stalks of multiple Jasmine flowers. A sheepish smile on her face as she presented her father with them —a gesture of apology. After all she was the only of her kind in the great Kingdom of south asia. The tainted princess of Loh.

•translations•
• haveli — an ancient style of homes that are multi storey and have courtyards.
• diwan — a place where the king has meetings
• jharoka — a stone window projecting from the wall face of the window
• hakeem — a doctor
• kaneez — female servants

•where is Loh?•

Loh is the ancient name of Lahore. The book is set in the walled city of Lahore.
••••

Okay so how did you guys like the first chapter?

Thoughts on Samra?

Her parents?

Are we excited for this historical fiction?