Queen of Cahraman: A Retelling of Aladdin (Fairytales of Folkshore Book 3)

by Lucy Tempest

  Carefully, I approached, heard what the king was saying in grave tones.

  “After my mother died, my father gradually became a monster,” Darius admitted. “He suffocated and besieged me with his obsession for my safety. I did fear him as a child, and I think I never outgrew that fear. That was why I couldn’t choose Nariman to start with, why I couldn’t marry her until he died. Then he did, and instead of being eager to embrace my freedom of choice, I was loath to change the status quo, unable to face the fallout from allies and enemies alike if I married a witch. I still promised to marry her but never thought the right time ever came. I thought she’d stay with me forever anyway. Then came our rows over your Bride Search. She then insisted I give her a final decision and left for Zhadugar to put distance between us until I did. I hated to see her go, was going to send for her the very next day and tell her we’d marry as soon as you picked your bride.

  “But I got violently sick and Loujaïne insisted Nariman was doing it with black magic, that she wanted to kill me, to usurp me through her control over you. In my weakened state, the suspicions I never entertained started eating through me. I first thought maybe she wanted to make me feel weak and in need of her, to push me to marry her at last. Then I remembered the time when my mother fell sick and died, when I almost did as a child. All my fear of witches returned with a vengeance so that even though I’d already recovered, I still banished her. I thought of undoing it a thousand times, but I just couldn’t. So I told myself she must have always controlled me with magic, and now she was gone I was free of her influence and this was why I wouldn’t consider sparing her. Then everything else happened.”

  This explained so much. It cleared up all remaining inconsistencies.

  Everything that Darius had thought and done had all been the ever-widening ripples of Jumana’s wish. I even thought I knew what his mysterious illness had been. The day he’d taken a firm decision with a specific date to marry Nariman, the wish’s magic had contrived a violent way to make him change his mind. Then when he’d tried to undo his banishment, it had still stopped him, so the wish would remain in effect. It might have even affected Cyrus, stopped him from intervening on her behalf to the same end.

  I had to tell Cyrus that, as he now believed he’d let her down of his own free will and would torture himself over it forever.

  Cyrus stroked her cheek, his guilt and regret evident on his face. “So, you did love her?”

  “I did. And I did love your mother for the very little peaceful time we had together. But there was no hope for us under my father’s reign. I regretted that I chose her, because I should have realized she wouldn’t withstand what I barely could. And I did miss her, did mourn her, would forever be grateful to her for giving you to me.” Darius suddenly squeezed his shoulder, bringing Cyrus’s startled gaze up to his impassioned one. “I know I haven’t been the father you deserve, and I need you to know why. I feared involving myself too much in your life because I feared I would turn into my father. And though the rigidly raised royal in me didn’t approve of what Nariman was doing for you, I knew you were better off with her in charge of your upbringing. Now I see I was right. She did an excellent job.”

  And this answered all my objections to Darius as a father. With a father like his, his role model had been the very opposite of what a father should be. He’d done Cyrus and everyone who loved him a great favor by not destroying his childhood like his had been.

  Darius exhaled raggedly. “Now I don’t know how I feel about her. I suppose she’s done to me what I’ve been doing to her all these years, keeping her chained by me. But it couldn’t have been Jumana’s unwitting wish, Cyrus. I don’t want to believe I’d been compelled because this would exonerate me. And I don’t believe I should be. I didn’t feel compelled.”

  Cyrus raised eyes full of conviction to his father’s melancholy ones. “But that’s why compulsion is so insidious and evil, Father. Because it takes kernels of what you feel and fear, in your case the products of you conditioning by an unreasonable father, and make them take you over. A compulsion is a terrible lie covered in a truth so you’d never suspect it.”

  “You’re not only saying this to exonerate me, like she said?”

  Cyrus huffed a mirthless laugh. “Father, you were going to try to compel me to forget about Ada and marry Fairuza.” Darius started and Cyrus’s lips twisted. “Yes, I know that. Believe me, if I didn’t believe what I just said, I would have delighted in making you squirm forever in guilt over what you did to Nariman.”

  Darius gave a tired, self-deprecating sigh. “You know, Cyrus, during her imprisonment of me, when she came to flay me with her resentment and bitterness, I thought about all what I could have done differently if I hadn’t been so afraid of my father, of breaking tradition, or being radical in my proclamations and decisions. If I had been more like you.”

  Cyrus’s eyes rounded in surprise. “Like me?”

  Darius nodded. “I had nothing to do but think, and I realized that by forcing you to wed Fairuza, I would have been forcing you to make my own mistakes. I realized that you made the best decisions for yourself. It seems the girl you chose really was your best option, even if she is not the most appropriate. She ended up saving all of us and Cahraman—and saving her.”

  They looked back down at Nariman. “So, what now? What will you do with her?”

  “What would you do?” Darius asked, eyes expectant.

  “I’d give her what I promised her all those years ago,” Cyrus said firm, unhesitating.

  His father stared at him for a long moment, before he nodded. “If we can get around Jumana’s wish if it in fact exists, and if we can resolve all the terrible things done on both sides, if she’ll still have me, I’ll fulfill my promise to her, and make her the Queen Mother.”

  “How could you if she’s not the mother of…a…” Cyrus’s words slowed as realization crept into his gaze. “…king.”

  His father rose to his feet, hand touching his shoulder like the tip of a sword. “I could because with this new chance I’ve been given, thanks to you and your chosen, I’ve decided to abdicate.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  “Father, you can’t!”

  “Yes, I can.” Darius bent to grip the stunned Cyrus by the shoulders. “You’ll be a better king than myself, the king that Cahraman deserves.”

  “You were that, Father…”

  Darius cut him off. “I believe we both now know that I took more credit than I was owed. Promise me you won’t repeat my mistakes, whatever their reasons might have been.”

  Speechless, Cyrus only nodded then looked up at me dazedly.

  Darius followed his gaze, straightened and offered me his hand, when he’d once refused to even acknowledge me. “Last time we met, I was terribly harsh to you. I hope I haven’t changed your mind about my son.”

  Taking his hand, I briefly locked eyes with Cyrus again, who gave me a slightly delirious smile. “Ghouls couldn’t chase me away from him, Your Majesty.”

  “Then I suppose we’ll have both a coronation and a royal engagement.”

  “And a wedding!”

  Farouk joined us, dragging Loujaïne behind him. To see him holding hands with his king’s sister, so openly and confidently in front of said king, was one of the many things I’d never thought possible.

  But it seemed the fervor of action still flowed through Farouk’s blood as he boldly declared, “We’re going to get married.”

  A series of stunned expressions flew over Darius’s grizzled face, before he pointed towards the couple and asked Cyrus, “Did you know about this?”

  Cyrus gave an inconclusive shrug then exchanged a conspiring look with Farouk. He’d always known, and had always hoped it would come to this.

  Darius collected himself, regarding his sister. “Is this true? Do you want to marry him?”

  Loujaïne blushed, nodded. “Will you agree to allow me to remarry?”

  Darius looked offended. “I was ne
ver the one to deny you that right!”

  She nodded again, lips trembling. Then all color drained from her face as she reached an unsteady hand towards Ayman. He hesitated before taking a step closer to her and she choked, “I-it’s a long story, Darius, and I’ll tell you everything later, but I want you to know I just learned that Ayman is the son I thought long dead.”

  Darius made a strangled noise as he gaped at Ayman. Till this second he’d never suspected he was anything more than his own son’s strange companion, the one he’d entrusted his safety to. I could now see him grasping at all the dangling threads of all their pasts to tie them together into this new and clearly unsettling knowledge.

  He finally shook his head, blinking at Cyrus. “Did you know about this, too?” At Cyrus’s emphatic denial, the king placed a shaky hand on his gashed cheek as if he registered the pain just then. “Anyone else has more bizarre confessions for me?”

  My mother reached for my hand and stepped forwards, looking as if she too still couldn’t believe any of this was happening. “Adelaide is my daughter, Your Majesty. Mine and Azal’s.”

  Darius’s eyes snapped wider, clearly unable to connect us together at all.

  He seemed to give up trying as he looked at me. “I’m sure that’s another long story, one I’m certainly not up to hearing now. But—at least that would make you a princess. Not the kind I would have hoped for…” Cyrus’s spectacular scowl prompted him to add, “Not that it matters! You have done an incomparable service to this kingdom, my dear.”

  Since I never thought I’d have a positive word from him, such shining testimony made me stumble into a curtsy, eliciting a smothered sound of amusement from Farouk. He must remember my same clumsy effort when he’d first seen me.

  “Can I go home now, Your Majesty?” My heart squeezed at the forlorn note in Fairuza’s voice. Darius swung his gaze to his niece and she added, “I don’t have much more time before my curse comes to pass.”

  “Curse!” Darius rocked on his feet, going ashen. “Why are you cursed?”

  “That would be a question for my mother, Your Majesty,” Fairuza said tightly.

  As Cyrus and I started saying we would use the genie to reverse her curse, a harsh, grouchy voice drowned us out.

  “Not surprised sorcerers are raining their ill-will down on your family, Darius.” The dowager Princess Aurelia speed-walked towards us, half-leaning on Cora, followed by her fretting grandson Miraz. “You may like to play the victim to the evil witches, but you should one day look into what Morgana’s line did to them.”

  I hadn’t seen that coming. Would I keep discovering new things that would keep changing my perspective? Was there a truth or only ever points of view?

  This latest remark was probably why Aurelia was showing no remorse over what had happened because of her gift to Jumana. She also probably had no idea her genie had had a major hand in Jumana’s death, still blamed that fully on Darius and his father.

  Aurelia looked down at the peacefully sleeping Nariman. “Shame, I was rooting for your batty witch. Her reign was the most entertainment I’ve had in decades. And it would have been poetic justice for you to have been undone by an Almaskhami, and a friend of Jumana’s no less.”

  “Your Highness…” Darius began.

  “Save it,” the old woman snapped, turning her beady, dark-blue eyes to me. “I haven’t found reason to say that in ages, but good job. You’ve managed to exceed my expectations.”

  Feeling terrible to be accepting praise from her when she’d just insulted the king to his face and delighted in Cahraman’s ordeal, I grimaced. “How low were they?”

  Aurelia put her hand on Cherine’s head. “About this low.”

  Cherine let out a squeak, indignant for a second before her attention flitted away from her as she gripped Ayman’s arm. “Your Majesty, we’re getting married, too.”

  Ayman went rigid. “We are?”

  “Yes, but after Ada and Cyaxares, of course. It would be bad form to take precedence of the new king and his future queen’s wedding,” she babbled. “Besides, I would like us to have a nice, short engagement. We should also see about the entitlements of your title, seeing as you are the son of a prince and a princess—though the princess outranks the prince in this case. Do you think you have any property in Almaskham?”

  Lost, Ayman could only let out a long, “Uhhh…”

  My mother, looking as uncomfortable as Ayman, asked, “Your Majesty—uh—I wonder if you know anything about Azal?”

  Darius dragged his gaze away from Loujaïne and Farouk as he seemed to be trying to figure out what he’d missed over the years, blinked at her as if he’d just realized something. “You’re the woman he remarried and who disappeared!” When she nodded, he said, “At the time I thought if his fanatic of a father were alive, I would have blamed him immediately for her disappearance. But you’ll understand that after what his family did to Loujaïne—what my father fully endorsed in his derangement towards magic—I was never on speaking terms again with Azal. He did try to mend our relationship, long after his marriage to Loujaïne was dissolved, even petitioned my father that she must remarry. It was my father who decreed she wouldn’t, fearing she’d have another cursed child. So all I knew about Azal is that he lost his wife and has been living as a confirmed widower ever since. I’m sorry to say I only thought he was paying for his family’s crimes against Loujaïne and her son and never sympathized with his loss.”

  She nodded, her eyes filling with tears.

  This was all turning out to be even more convoluted that I’d already thought. But at least it didn’t make my father the terrible man I’d thought him to be at first, or the weak, neglectful one I’d later thought he was.

  A long, long moment of oppressive silence descended.

  We all looked at each other, then at Nariman’s prone figure, and it was clear in all our eyes we were still unable to handle the change back to normal.

  How would we handle the memories of what happened? How would Nariman? Worse still, how would everyone in Cahraman and the Folkshore?

  I said so and another thought seemed to hit Cyrus. “Father, you’ll never be able to marry even if you both want to. Jumana’s wish will see to that.”

  I was loath to, but I had to point something else out. “Even if you can, and the people said they’d accept her as your consort when they were at her mercy, now things are back to normal, they never will. They might even revolt against your whole house if she’s in it.”

  Darius looked as if he’d aged another ten years. “You should have wished to undo the memories of her last two wishes, not just their impact.”

  Cyrus shook his head. “I don’t believe tampering with memories, especially on that scale is ever an option, Father.”

  Darius gave him a look of total defeat. “Then if the people reject her and me with her, I will go into exile.”

  Cyrus lurched in alarm before he met my eyes, agitation filling his.

  I rushed to say, “Maybe there’s a simpler solution, Your Majesty.”

  Darius’s surprise was unmistakable. It seemed he still couldn’t believe the girl he’d rejected had been the key to his kingdom salvation. He still didn’t know yet I was what had brought it down in the first place. I wasn’t about to tell him that now. His acceptance was too new, must be a fragile thing.

  I went on. “It is too massive a wish for everyone in the Folkshore to forget what Nariman did, and the consequences could be unimaginable. But what if we only adjust one memory for everyone? The identity of the culprit?”

  Cyrus’s eyes flared with excitement. “Keep talking!”

  “We could wish the genie to exchange Nariman’s role in the story with some fictional character that has been already vanquished, while maintaining everything the same way. Like Cyrus says, taking away everyone’s memories is too disruptive, especially those of the people of Sunstone. Erasing their ordeal would leave a massive hole in their minds and souls, but taking away the kn
owledge of who caused it wouldn’t harm them, while helping her, and you.”

  Darius seemed to light up with hope, before he looked down at her and everything in him dimmed again. “What about her?”

  Cyrus’s eyes darkened with regret, too. “Like they need to remember what happened to them, she needs to remember what she did—and why she did it.”

  Darius’s shoulders slumped. He must have been hoping there was a way to wipe the slate clean between them. But by now we all knew the more invasive the magic, the more terrible its price.

  He ended up nodding. “We will just have to work this out slowly, then, own up to our parts in the ordeal, and make amendments, to each other, and even if they won’t know of our roles in their suffering, to the people.”

  Cyrus picked the lamp up. “I will use my remaining two wishes…”

  Darius put his hand on his shoulder. “Those should be my wishes. As it was Jumana’s wish that started and continued the alienation between us, and as I used the lamp to banish her, I should be the one to use it to give her, give us a second chance.”

  Cyrus gave it to him. Then I created the “fictional character” he’d wish the genie to replace Nariman with. The king was amazed at how I created it so readily. One day soon I’d have to let him know I was an old hand at creating false personas, one of which was the one he thought his future daughter-in-law. I didn’t relish the idea of that day.

  At last the king turned to exit the throne room to the adjoining chambers.

  Cyrus called after him. “Wait, I didn’t relinquish the genie.”

  His father waved him off. “That’s a deceptive requirement designed to discourage people from stealing the lamp, thinking it would be useless without it. Isn’t that right, Princess Aurelia?”

  Aurelia harrumphed, hands on her cane, nose in the air in disgust.

  While he was gone, Cyrus and I discussed what we’d do once Nariman woke up, and how they’d all deal with each other from now on.