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The Voice of Azzam Novel Cover

The Voice of Azzam

Within Azzam Palace, young King Kamil struggles with his new crown while facing hidden threats. His life changes after a chance meeting with Milan, a humble maid with a beautiful voice. Their forbidden romance sparks a dangerous conflict as Kamil’s uncle Bashi and Princess Jodha, controlled by the king's sister Mirian, plot his downfall. When Milan is framed for a crime, Kamil must choose between his royal duty and his heart as obsession fuels a brewing war.
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Chapter 3

It was barely six, yet the day had already begun. Maids glided quietly through the halls, carrying trays and linens. Guards stood at attention near the grand staircase, boots gleaming under the soft amber lights.

The royal convoy eased into the courtyard.Kamil stepped out first - tall, composed, the crisp white of his shirt catching the dim morning glow. The guards bowed in unison.

"Your Highness," one greeted.

Kamil acknowledged with a brief nod and walked past, his presence calm yet commanding . His private wing lay on the east side of the palace, separated from the rest by glass corridors and a stretch of still garden.

Inside, his chambers opened into quiet opulence - smooth marble floors, warm amber lamps, and soft Persian rugs. It was the kind of room that felt like a five-star suite, except it breathed with his scent, his books, his rhythm.

He loosened his cuffs and rubbed the back of his neck, the faintest trace of exhaustion shadowing his features.

A soft chime sounded - the discreet tone from the intercom near his door.

"Your Highness," came the aide's voice, polite and steady. "Her Grace requests your presence in the east hall for breakfast. She said it's important."

Kamil glanced at the clock - 6:02 a.m. A short exhale escaped his lips. "At dawn?"

"She insisted, Your Highness."

"Of course she did." He straightened his sleeves, his expression smoothing into composure before stepping out.

The east hall glowed under crystal light. Long curtains framed the wide windows, and the scent of jasmine tea filled the air. Every detail of the table - gold-trimmed china, glass pitchers, folded napkins . 

At the head sat the Queen Mother Samitra, her silver hair swept neatly beneath a pale silk scarf. Even in stillness, she radiated command.

Beside her sat Queen Ayisha, her beauty serene, the warmth in her eyes softening the edges of the room.Mirian sat quietly near her, posture perfect. And standing by the tall window was Bashi . 

The room shifted subtly as Kamil entered.

"Grandmother," he greeted, bowing slightly before leaning to kiss her hand.

Samitra smiled faintly. "You were out late."

"Just helping my friends settle in at the penthouse," Kamil said, lowering himself into the seat opposite his grandmother.

A faint hum of approval left her lips as a maid refilled her tea. Around them, the dining hall shimmered. Every movement was quiet, practiced, expensive.

"Still loyal," Samitra murmured. "Your father would've liked that."

Bashi lifted his gaze from his cup. "Loyalty is good. But timing is better. The council will be expecting you to sit in today's session."

Kamil turned his head slightly. "I wasn't aware the council needed me for minor trade discussions."

His uncle smiled thinly. "They always need to see their prince." Before the tension could sharpen, a familiar voice filled the hall.

"Kamil!"

Everyone turned as Princess Yaya dashed in, her pink robe swishing behind her like a cape. Her slippers tapped against the marble as she ran straight to him.

"You're eating without me again!" she exclaimed, half scolding, half laughing.

Kamil chuckled, reaching out to pull her close. "You were still asleep, little one."

"I wasn't! I woke up when the maids started talking about your meeting."

"Then you're even earlier than the sun," he teased.Samitra's stern expression softened. "Let her be, Kamil. She's been waiting since dawn, insisting she'll have breakfast only if it's with her brother."

Yaya tilted her chin proudly. "Because he promised to take me riding after the council."

"I remember," Kamil said with a soft smile. "And I keep my promises."

Council Hall – Later That Morning

The council chamber was already alive with quiet murmurs when Kamil entered. The soft click of his polished shoes echoed against marble floors, and the faint scent of oud drifted through the air.

"Your Highness," the councilmen chorused as they rose.

He acknowledged them with a nod and took his place at the head of the table, every movement controlled.

"Let's begin," he said.

Bashi cleared his throat, his voice as smooth as his smile. "Today's agenda concerns the northern trade routes. Kaan has prepared a proposal."

Kaan rose slightly, his tablet glowing faint blue. "The routes have stalled," he began. "Private investors are offering funds to speed construction. In exchange, they'll share partial management of the trade sector."

Several heads nodded, the sound of shifting papers filling the silence. Kamil's gaze remained on the projection. "Partial management," he repeated, tone light but measured. "Meaning we hand over what belongs to the crown."

"Not hand over," Kaan corrected, his grin deliberate. "Partner. Their expertise could push the economy forward."

"And what happens," Kamil asked, "when the partner decides Azzam's pace no longer suits their profit?"

Kaan's grin faltered, just slightly."The crown doesn't trade stability for speed," Kamil continued. "If expansion is slow, we strengthen what we have until it grows on its own. No one outside these walls should have the power to dictate how we build."

Even Bashi paused, the pleasant mask on his face barely moving.

An older councilman shifted forward. "The prince speaks wisely. Sovereignty is not a commodity."

Kamil leaned back, fingers interlaced. "The internal board will handle the routes. I'll review the new proposal before it reaches the council again."

Kaan's tone softened, but his eyes stayed sharp. "Of course, Your Highness."

The doors opened quietly, and Queen Mother Samitra stepped in. She didn't speak - just observed as the council rose again.

"Your Highness," one of them said, "shall we adjourn?"

Kamil's gaze stayed forward. "Yes. The matter's settled."

When the last of the councilmen left, Samitra moved closer.  "You handled them well," she said. "Your father would have been proud."

Kamil's jaw eased. "Let's hope the council shares his opinion."

"They will," she replied. "You just made your first decision as the next king."

He smiled faintly, almost to himself. "Then maybe it's time they start listening like subjects."

Her eyes glinted with  approval.

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