Golden Chains (The Colorblind Trilogy Book 3)

by Rose B Mashal

  Something told me that if I knew exactly how long I had been here, I would start panicking. It wasn’t longer than a day, right? I hoped.

  It wasn’t only tiredness that I was feeling now. I was weak and ill. It wasn’t even that difficult anymore to bear the pain of hunger. I was beyond that.

  I knew I might be hurting my baby by not eating, but I’d heard that an unborn child would take all it needs from the mother even if it cost her her own life. I didn’t mind, that would be okay.

  It was still too scary, but starving seemed like my best option until I found my way out of here.

  The only benefit I gained from my starvation was that I was too tired to think about anything else except my baby. All my thoughts were only about Adam. I’d only counted three faint movements from him since I was brought here. That was all. I kept telling myself that it was the lack of food. It had to be. He needed to be okay; I wasn’t going to accept any other option.

  Approaching footsteps had me on alert, but I didn’t have the strength to sit up. I continued lying down, using my arm as a pillow, not caring who’d come in the room or what they may do as long as my baby stayed safe.

  The young woman who brought me food made her way into the room, followed by another woman I hadn’t seen in here before. The latter was carrying another tray, which she placed near my head on the floor. There was a curious look in her eyes as she looked at my face and body.

  Her look wasn’t the same hateful one that the others had given me. She looked at me as if she was examining something. It creeped me out.

  To be honest, I would’ve preferred it had she given me a dirty look and gone on her way.

  “Are we going to stay here all day long?” the young woman asked impatiently, as the other knelt in front of where I was lying and took her time studying me. I didn’t know who she was, but I sensed that I had seen here before.

  “Shut up, Etab,” she responded. “Take the other tray and leave.”

  The young woman only huffed, took the untouched tray of food and did precisely as she was told.

  The familiar-looking stranger looked carefully at my skin. I was very irritated by her closeness and her presence, but when her eyes drifted to my stomach – I became defensive.

  She reached out to touch my baby bump. I don’t know where I found the strength, but I sat up and knocked her hand away immediately.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” she said in English. I was so invested in trying to figure out her intentions that I didn’t flinch when she reached out to touch me again. By the time I realized it, she had touched my right hand where my wedding band was, seeing that it was now loose on my finger.

  “You need food in your system, and most importantly, water. You’re on the edge of dehydration, Marie.” I was taken aback by the genuine worry in her voice, and the fact that she said my name so easily as if we were long lost friends. “That’s not good for the baby.”

  I gulped. Why did she care what was good or not good for the baby? Don’t they all want me dead? But then I thought about the truth of her words. I was hurting my baby. That made my stomach turn.

  The woman with the face I was positive I had seen before but was not sure where, grabbed the bottle of water from the tray, then offered it to me. “You need to drink.” She nodded in encouragement.

  I stared, trying to figure her out. God knows how thirsty I was. My mouth was dry as a desert, but I was still too afraid that it would harm my baby if I ate their food or drank their water – who knew if they might have spiked it?

  “I know you think the water could be poisoned,” she said as if she knew of my inner dilemma, “but trust me, she would’ve killed you in many other ways by now if she wanted you dead.”

  I knew she was talking about the older woman with the familiar voice who paid Mo’taz to kidnap me.

  “Or – don’t trust me,” the woman said, “but at least listen to common sense.”

  She was right; her words were reasonable; the older woman could’ve killed me shortly after capturing me. It followed that she didn’t want me dead. Yet.

  If that woman told her cohorts she wanted me dead – why was she keeping me alive?

  Before I could wonder more about that, the woman in front of me spoke again. “Would it convince you if I took a sip or two from the bottle?” she asked in a kind voice.

  The offer was so tempting; surely she wouldn’t hurt herself and drink from water that she knew was poisoned, would she?

  The woman didn’t wait for an answer. She unscrewed the lid, and I watched her take a couple of gulps. When she finished, she wiped her mouth with a few pats with the tips of her fingers and offered it to me again.

  With no hesitation, I took it with my cuffed hands and pretty much poured it down my throat. I couldn’t believe how eager I was to empty it in my mouth.

  “Easy, easy, you’ll make yourself sick,” the woman said, taking the bottle from me so suddenly that I almost cried like a baby and demanded it back.

  A sharp pain rested in the middle of my chest. I knew it was from drinking so much water at once. I almost wished I wasn’t that frantic as I sipped on the water. Almost.

  “Would you try some food now?” she asked again with a small smile, and I started thinking again – what if the whole water thing was a game so I would trust her, and the poison was in the food?

  Before I could do anything, the woman took a bite of everything, making sure that I was watching her as she did. She then washed it down with more water, as if to make me feel positive that she had swallowed it all.

  I didn’t need more convincing.

  “Eat now, Marie. I’ll bring you clean clothes tomorrow.”

  I kicked myself for wanting to thank her. She wasn’t my friend.

  My first smile since Mo’taz had brought me here was when I felt Adam moving. I cried silent, happy tears as I enjoyed the slight movement that followed my first meal in what seemed like ages.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby.” My tears fell as I whispered, hugging my baby bump awkwardly with my hands cuffed. “We’ll be okay. Daddy won’t leave us here for too long. He won’t. He will find us,” I said to my unborn child, the words more for me than for him. I needed to hear them; I needed my voice to be louder than my thoughts. I needed to keep the faith.

  “Take care of yourself and our baby until I come back and take care of you, again. Okay, princess?” Mazen’s words rang in my ears; they had been repeating themselves over and over in my head.

  It was the last thing he’d said to me. He was so upset about having to leave. If he didn’t have to leave, this wouldn’t have happened.

  Then again, I didn’t know. Maybe if Mazen stayed, they would have killed him. Who knew what these people wanted?

  My heart ached as I thought of how he must be worried sick about us. I wished I could tell him not to worry, that we would all be together soon, but I knew that might not happen.

  Pushing those doubts away, I tried to concentrate on the woman who’d fed me. I never forgot a face, and I was sure I’d seen her before, but all of my efforts to connect her face to a place or a memory were fruitless.

  Why was she kind to me? Why did she care what I ate? And why would she bring me fresh clothes? If she could be that kind – why not let me go?

  I figured the older woman must have some sort of power over her; she sounded intimidating when I heard her speaking with Mo’taz.

  Whoever they were, I knew they would be out of my way soon. All I could do now was pray. I did it very well.

  Holding the cross that my angel had given to me, I prayed. I found companionship in the faint sound of the ocean that was probably not so far from where I was or was that wind? Or – did I imagine it all? I didn’t know. I wiped my tears, lay down, then smiled one more time as I felt Adam move.

  It wasn’t a strong move, but I was grateful.

  Closing my eyes, I hoped that I could fall asleep better now that my stomach was full, in spite of the hard floor
under my body and head.

  It was ironic – never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that the day would come where I made sleeping on a rough floor work for me. I always chose the most comfortable pillow and most expensive sheets. I always spent a fortune on mattresses and bedding, for most of my weekends was spent in bed, the only place where I could relax for real.

  Well, aside from a hot bath.

  Oh, how I craved a hot tub right now. To be honest, I would settle for a wet washcloth, but it didn’t look like that was even an option.

  I had always been grateful for my blessings, and I had appreciated the fact that I’d never wanted for anything I couldn’t have. So, I didn’t understand why I was going through this punishment.

  It seemed like the more I let myself wonder, the more doubt found a place in my heart.

  The only safe zone for me was to think about my beautiful memories with Mazen. All my memories with Mazen were beautiful. Even during the hard times, we stole sweet moments together, and that made us what we were now.

  Mazen’s voice was so alive in my head, that for a second I thought I was really hearing him, and not just in my thoughts.

  A moment later, I realized that the voice was real. It was real. Mazen was outside.

  “Mazen!” I gasped.

  Like the promised new green grass and blossoming flowers of spring, Mazen’s voice promised my heart no more pain, no more hurt.

  He’d come to my rescue.

  My heart fluttered as I got up, using my cuffed hands to brace my weight. I took a few steps towards the door, hating the faint sound of my breathing; it was making listening to Mazen’s voice a lot more difficult.

  One step after another, his voice grew the tiniest bit louder. It was very faint, so far away. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but it was him. I’d recognize my husband’s voice even if he were a mile away.

  Holding my breath, I pressed my ear flat to the closed door, but his words remained unrecognizable, and my anxiety became unbearable.

  What was taking him so long? Why wasn’t he crashing this door and getting me already?

  It might’ve been only fifteen seconds since I first realized that Mazen’s voice was real and not in my head, but it had felt like hours. I was anxious and suddenly impatient. So, I tried the doorknob, attempting to open the door.

  I wasn’t surprised when the door clicked open; I’d never heard them lock it. But I also didn’t know if there was someone nearby.

  I decided that no situation would be any worse than what I was already facing, so I eased the door open and peeked out to see if there was anyone outside.

  It wasn’t difficult for me to figure out that kidnapping me had been planned for a long time. I was a queen after all, and things like this didn’t just happen. It might be believable to hear about a queen being captured by someone, but that ‘someone’ needed to be an enemy they were at war with, and it had to be a few centuries ago.

  They must’ve planned diligently to execute my kidnapping, so of course, they’d made it impossible for me to escape. Leaving the door unlocked meant that something else stood between me and freedom.

  Still, I took my chances, gaining power and strength from the vibrations in my heart that my love’s voice caused, and the need to be in the safety of his arms now more than ever.

  As I’d expected, there was a long hallway in front of me. It was even darker than the room I was in, but as far as I could tell, it was empty.

  I took one step after another with my hands extended in front of me, groping my way through the hallway, fearing that I would bump into something that I couldn’t see. My steps were careful but quick. My mouth was dry, and my heart was thumping hard, but Mazen’s voice got a bit louder with every new step I took.

  As I expected, there was another door, but this one was constructed with horizontal and vertical metal bars. It got a bit brighter in the hallway as I approached, and I could see that the walls on both sides looked like the kind you’d see in houses under construction or unfinished basements. I was sure that this place was underground.

  Disappointment filled me as I realized that Mazen’s voice wasn’t live – it was on TV. He wasn’t here.

  When I finally reached the door, I looked straight at the source of light. Past the door, there was another small room similar to the one my captors held me in, and nearly as dim.

  Mazen’s beautiful face appeared on the small screen of a TV that was a few years old. My heart leaped, then faltered when I saw him for the first time in what seemed like ages and ages.

  It was the first time I’d seen Mazen looking utterly heartbroken.

  I touched the metal bars, trying to brace myself on them as my legs almost gave out. The love of my life was dying from the inside because of my absence.

  He was well dressed, composed, and stern. His expression though, he looked angry, more than anything else. However, I could see straight through him, and I knew very well how he truly felt.

  He wasn’t blinking. He was too focused on keeping his expression stern and not showing weakness.

  The white of his eyes was red and it wasn’t because of anger; it was because he was holding back tears. Crying would be the last thing that he would do. Mazen only cried in my arms.

  The bandage – which he was determined to hide – over his right hand, which started right by the end of his fingers, wasn’t because of anger. Mazen was beyond that. He was livid and that was the only thing that he allowed to show.

  My heart bled as I realized he had been punching walls, knowing that his hand might be seriously hurt just because I wasn’t there to stop him. Only I knew how to tame Mazen’s anger. Only I knew how to calm him down.

  Hot tears started trailing down my cheeks silently as I paid attention to every little detail of my Mazen that the screen showed, listening carefully to every word he said.

  “… for over thirty-five hours, Queen Marie Archer of Alfaidya had been missing, and it’s a massive disgrace,” Mazen said in a frightening tone of voice that vibrated everything around.

  I gulped; the fact that it had been almost two days since I was brought to this hell hole made me dizzy. My tears flowed as I realized that it meant I was far away from Mazen if it had been that long and they still couldn’t find me.

  “It is a disgrace, not only to the King or the royal family. It’s a disgrace to every person in this kingdom. Every man, every woman, and even every child,” Mazen shouted, a sneer planted on his face. It took everything in me not to call out his name aloud, but the need was too compelling. Instead, I settled by only murmuring it.

  “Mazen,” I choked out, my voice was barely above a whisper.

  “Our enemy wants us to believe that Queen Marie is dead, but I’m assuring you that she is alive, still strong as ever, and will be returned home safely within the next few hours.

  “As for her captors, very soon they will not only wish they had never been born, but they will also regret every single second they had my wife, Queen Marie, and my son, Crown Prince Adam, in their disgusting hands. You have my word.” Mazen’s voice was beyond frightening; I only hoped my captors felt the same about the sincerity in his words.

  My chest hurt as he announced our son’s name, and as insignificant as it sounded – given my situation – I hated that our enemies had prevented us from announcing his name in the ceremony planned for his first public appearance.

  I knew that Mazen had to name him to personalize him, to make him real, and make people even more compassionate about our unborn son. By naming him, my unborn son became more than just a fetus. He was the Crown Prince, and his name was Adam.

  “Our army has sworn to protect the King and Queen. I, myself, swore to protect the Queen’s life with my own. As the ruler of Alfaidya, I, King Mazen, son of Qasem Alfaidy, command every citizen to offer any help they can to bring Queen Marie home as soon as possible. Most importantly, I ask for your prayers.”

  “Mazen, please.” I didn’t even know wha
t exactly I was begging for.

  My legs gave out as someone flipped the TV channel, taking the image of my love away. The screen now had four channels displayed on it.

  The image on each channel showed a night view. The one that got my attention was of a girl with messy hair and troubled features. She looked nothing but miserable. It took me a moment to realize that the girl was me.

  My throat constricted as I watched myself from the feed of a security camera, holding the metal bars of the door while kneeling and crying, looking exactly like a prisoner who was awaiting punishment for some crime.

  Well, I was a prisoner. But I had no idea what I was being punished for.

  The next second, I was startled as a figure blocked my view. I was so consumed by what was on the TV screen that I’d forgotten flipping the TV channels indicated someone was in the outer room. When I looked up to see the face of the woman standing right in front of me, I was utterly horrified.

  It wasn’t only because of the hate pouring out of this woman. No, it was because her face matched that of my dear, kind mother-in-law.

  I gasped and backed away from the metal door, falling back on my bottom, and scooted away from her.

  How could it be? How could she be here? Why is she doing this? My traumatized mind was too shocked to put any of it together.

  “Get back,” she said, and my mouth fell open.

  The voice. That voice …

  “I said get back!”

  The accent. That accent …

  When I didn’t move or reply, she sneered. Shock paralyzed me.

  “Saeed!” she called, and I flinched, startled by her loud voice.

  A man standing beside her took a step forward, then he raised his hands and pointed a gun at me. My gasp followed the sound of the hammer being cocked, and a bullet sliding into the barrel.

  In one second, I got up on my hands and crab-crawled a few yards until I could scramble to my feet. Tears trailed down my cheeks as I heard their creepy, evil laughter all the while until I made it back to my cell.

  How sad was it that I felt safer in this dingy, dark, cold, room?