Mairo slipped through the gates under a cloak of midnight, the silver glow of the moon trailing her like a silent accomplice. After passing the guards with a fleeting nod, she dismounted Accita, her sleek brown horse, whose coat gleamed softly in the pale light. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and night-blooming jasmine, and every sound seemed to echo louder than it should.

Her heart raced as she guided Accita into the stable, her fingers trembling slightly as she secured the reins. The familiar scent of hay and leather did little to calm her nerves. As she turned to leave, a soft voice cut through the darkness, nearly causing her to jump out of her skin.

"My lady," Rimi whispered, her silhouette barely visible in the dim moonlight filtering through the stable windows.

Mairo pressed a hand to her chest, willing her pulse to slow. "Rimi! Walah, you nearly frightened me to death."

Rimi stepped closer, her delicate features etched with worry. "Forgive me, my lady, but I've been waiting for your return. Your mother..." She hesitated, wringing her hands.

"What about my mother?" Mairo asked, dread pooling in her stomach.

Rimi's voice dropped even lower. "She's in your chambers, my lady. She's been there for hours, waiting. And she's..." Rimi bit her lip, searching for the right words. "Walah, she's not pleased, to put it mildly."

Mairo closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. "How bad is it, Rimi? Tell me true."

"I've never seen the Waziriya so... agitated," Rimi admitted. "She's been pacing, muttering to herself. Even the servants are avoiding that wing of the house."

"Seven hells," Mairo muttered, running a hand through her windswept hair. "I suppose there's no avoiding it, then."

As they made their way through the shadowy corridors of the estate, Rimi's soft footsteps echoed Mairo's heavier ones. The younger woman's presence was both comforting and nerve-wracking – a reminder of the impending confrontation.

They paused outside Mairo's chambers, the heavy wooden door looming before them like the maw of some great beast. Rimi reached out, her fingers brushing Mairo's arm in a gesture of support.

"I'll wait here, my lady," she murmured. "Should you need anything..."

Mairo nodded, grateful for the girl's loyalty. She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and pushed open the door.

The room's stillness was stifling, its opulence a heavy cloak. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, dimmed by flickering candlelight that danced like secrets. A Moroccan rug cushioned Mairo's footsteps. Larai sat cross-legged on a plush, gold-threaded cushion, her posture ramrod straight, hands gracefully folded. The air thickened with sandalwood and incense, while shadows sharpened the hard line of her mouth, igniting the fire in her eyes.

"Mother," Mairo began, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can explain—"

"Can you?" Larai's voice was deceptively calm, but Mairo could hear the undercurrent of fury. "Can you explain why my daughter, the heir to this house, thinks it appropriate to gallivant about in the dead of night like some common street urchin ...dressed as man?"

Mairo flinched at the venom in her mother's words. She'd seen Larai angry before, but this was different. This was a cold rage, carefully controlled but no less potent.

"I was just—"

"Silence!" Larai snapped, rising to her feet in one fluid motion. "Do you have any idea of the danger you put yourself in? The shame you could bring upon this family?"

Outside the door, Rimi pressed herself against the wall, her heart aching for Mairo. She could hear the rising and falling of voices, catching snippets of the heated exchange.

"...not a child anymore!"

"...responsibilities to this house..."

"...can't keep me locked away forever!"

The argument continued, a storm of emotions raging behind the closed door. Rimi remained steadfast, ready to offer comfort or assistance should Mairo need it.

As the heated exchange between Mairo and her mother began to simmer down, an uneasy silence fell over the room. Larai's posture softened slightly, but her eyes remained sharp as she regarded her daughter.

"Mairo," Larai began, her voice low and measured, "there's something else we need to discuss."

Mairo bristled, still reeling from the argument. "What more could there possibly be?"

Larai took a deep breath, steeling herself. "Your father informed me earlier today of a... development." She paused, watching Mairo's face carefully. "Your uncle, the Emir, has given your hand in marriage to the Prince of the Gwari Empire."

The words hung in the air for a moment before their full weight crashed down on Mairo. Her golden eyes widened in disbelief, then narrowed in fury. "What?" she hissed, her voice dangerously quiet.

"It's been decided, Mairo. The marriage will—"

"Decided?" Mairo interrupted, her voice rising. "By whom? Certainly not by me! How dare they - how dare you - try to trade me away like some prized horse!"

Larai's jaw tightened. "Watch your tone, young lady. This isn't about you. It's about our kingdom, our people."

Mairo let out a bitter laugh. "Our people? You mean the same people the Gwari have been attacking for the past three moons? The ones whose blood stains our walls? And now you want me to marry into that family?"

"It's politics, Mairo. Something you're too young to fully grasp," Larai said, her patience wearing thin.

"Too young?" Mairo spat. "I'm old enough to be married off, but too young to understand why? Make that make sense, Mother."

Larai pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling slowly. "The Prince and his father, the Sultan, will be arriving tomorrow for introductions. The wedding will follow shortly after."

Mairo felt as if the floor had dropped out from beneath her. "Tomorrow? You can't be serious. I won't do it. I refuse!"

"This isn't up for debate, Mairo," Larai said firmly. "The decision has been made. This union could bring peace to our lands, save countless lives."

"At the cost of mine?" Mairo's voice cracked, anger giving way to desperation. "Please, Mother. Don't do this to me. I can't—I won't be caged like this."

For a moment, Larai's expression softened, a flicker of sympathy crossing her face. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared. "Enough. Everything is final. Get some sleep; you'll need to be presentable tomorrow."

"Mother, please—" Mairo started, but Larai held up a hand, silencing her.

"Not another word. We're done here." With that, Larai turned and strode towards the door.

"This isn't over," Mairo called after her, fists clenched at her sides. "I won't let you do this to me!"

But Larai was already gone, the heavy door closing behind her with a sense of finality that sent a chill down Mairo's spine. Left alone in her chambers, Mairo's mind raced, a storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. She paced the room, her movements frantic and restless, as if trying to outrun the storm gathering within her. Rage and despair twisted together, churning into a chaotic whirlwind of half-formed escape plans and impossible scenarios, each more desperate than the last.

A chill crept through her veins, seeping into her bones and numbing her limbs, as if the cold was trying to freeze her into submission. Flashes of bloodshed blazed across her mind—faces she could never forget, eyes wide with terror, lives snuffed out in an instant. Screams echoed in her ears, a grim reminder of the horrors inflicted by the Gwari. And now they expected her to stand before those very people, to smile, to offer her hand and call them family.

The thought was a bitter poison, burning her throat, tightening her chest. Every step felt heavier, burdened with memories she wished she could purge but knew would haunt her forever. How could they ask this of her? How could they ask her to betray the dead, to turn her back on the faces that still haunted her dreams?

Outside the door, Rimi stood frozen, her hand covering her mouth in shock at what she'd overheard. She hesitated, torn between her duty to comfort her lady and the knowledge that Mairo might need some time alone to process this life-altering news.

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