The Voice of Azzam

From her suite balcony, Princess Jodha watched the palace gardens sway beneath her.

Her reflection in the mirror behind her wore calm perfection, diamonds burning like fire at her throat. But her mind was elsewhere.

Prince Kamil

The man everyone whispered about.

He was colder than she expected, sharper too. Every word from him felt measured. And yet...

there was something underneath it.

And it wasn't for her.

She saw it at dinner - that fleeting drift of his eyes, as if something else had caught his thoughts.

She hated that she noticed.

"Your Highness?" her handmaid, Zara, stepped inside carefully. "The council has sent the schedule for tomorrow."

"Leave it on the table," Jodha said absently.

Zara hesitated. "There's also... something you might want to know."

That made Jodha turn.

"One of the kitchen girls was talking earlier," Zara continued carefully. "She said the Crown Prince was seen at the east wing garden yesterday evening... speaking with a maid."

Jodha's voice stayed even. "And?""They said he smiled," Zara said, lowering her eyes.

The silence stretched.

Jodha's rings glinted as her fingers brushed against her wrist. "A maid?"

"Yes, Your Highness. A new recruit. " Zara stopped. "-Same one who apparently bumped into the prince a few days ago."

Jodha turned back to the window, her face unreadable.

"How amusing," Jodha said softly. "The help seems to find favor in unexpected places."

"Shall I... look into her?" Zara asked quietly.

Jodha's lips curved "Yes," she said finally. "Find out her name. Her family. Everything."

She turned away, the evening light cutting across her gown like fire. "If she thinks this palace is her fairytale, let's see how quickly dreams burn in Azzam."

In two days, Kamil would be crowned as Azzam's youngest ruler.

She sat by her vanity, letting her maid pin emeralds into her dark hair.

Her reflection smiled faintly, though her eyes were distant.

She wasn't thinking about the coronation. She was thinking about him.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.

Zara, her handmaid, stepped in quietly and bowed.

"Your Highness... a small report came from the servant's hall. I thought you might want to hear."

Jodha's eyes flicked toward the mirror. "A report?""Yes," Zara said carefully. "It's about the maid - Milan. She... shares the same birthday as the Crown Prince. The servants are talking about it."

Jodha's expression sharpened. "The same day?"

"Yes, Your Highness. A days from now."

"Interesting," she murmured, twisting an earring between her fingers.

"Does the prince know?" she asked.

"No, Your Highness. It's just gossip among the staff."

Jodha smiled, slow and deliberate. "Then let's keep it that way."

Zara hesitated. "Should I tell the Queen Mother?"

"Not yet," Jodha said, turning back to her mirror. "Let them celebrate their little servant birthdays. The palace has bigger things to worry about."

Her voice was calm, "I don't like coincidences." Especially ones that sounded like destiny.

Down in the servants' quarters, the air buzzed with energy of a different kind.

Milan adjusted her apron and brushed flour off her sleeves as she hurried between the kitchens. Her father's laughter echoed from the far end giving instructions to the palace cooks.

"Add more saffron! His Highness prefers it mild, not drowning!" he called out, ladle in hand.

Milan grinned softly. "You say that like you're the one getting crowned, Father."

He turned, mock-offended. "And why not? I've served three crowns in this palace. That's longer than most nobles have held their titles."

She laughed, stepping closer to hand him a bowl. "Then maybe they should be bowing to you.""Don't tempt me," he said with a wink.

Then his tone softened. "Two days, eh? Your birthday again. Seems like just yesterday your mother was-"

He stopped. The smile faltered. They both knew how the sentence ended.

Milan squeezed his hand gently. "She'd be proud, Father."

He nodded once, then cleared his throat quickly. "You should be in the east wing by now. The decorators are waiting for extra help. Go before I get scolded for keeping you."

She smiled, kissed his cheek, and turned to leave.

As she walked through the hall, the air shimmered with noise , the sound of a thousand dreams colliding in one palace. She didn't notice the man watching from the upper balcony - his robe unbuttoned at the collar, his expression unreadable.

Kamil leaned against the marble rail, eyes following her for a heartbeat too long.

Liam's voice broke the silence beside him. "You're staring again."

Kamil didn't answer.

Abel chuckled from behind. "At least this time, it's daylight."

Kamil's gaze didn't move. "She said her name's Milan."

"Ah," Liam said, pretending to think. "The one who nearly started a court scandal."

"She didn't start anything."

Abel smirked. "Defensive already. Should we alert the Queen Mother?"

Kamil turned to them with a quiet warning in his tone. "Don't."

They exchanged glances - half teasing, half serious."You know," Liam said, "Jodha won't take kindly to any rumor that involves another girl.

Especially not now."

"I know," Kamil said simply.

He turned back toward the courtyard - where Milan was now helping the florists arrange golden petals by the fountain.

He didn't understand why he suddenly wished the coronation would take longer to come.