Prince Ahmed was forced to his knees before his older brother, Prince Ali, who lounged upon Ahmed’s own throne.

“Long time, no see little brother,” Ali smirked condescendingly at him. “Between you and Hussein, I genuinely believe you were the more foolish one for involving yourself in this conflict. At least Hussein had the argument of seniority on his side.”

“Both you and our brother are unfit to rule our father’s lands,” Ahmed sneered.

“My, you’ve grown bold in five years.”

“No,” Ahmed gritted his teeth. "I just realized that seniority means nothing when it comes to who should rule a country. Our brother’s a fool and you’re a coward.”

“Really? Does a coward storm into his enemy’s lands and take his capital in a matter of weeks? Or does a coward sit and wait around for his enemies to come to him?” Ali frowned.

“A coward sells himself to the Nikan!” Ahmed spat.

“Oh, speaking of that, I’ve yet to introduce you to my betrothed,” Ali said. He gestured behind Ahmed as a woman confidently strode past him and up to Ali.

She was taller than Ali and ethereally beautiful in a way that made Ahmed wary. More so than he already was. She had the black hair and narrow eyes of a Nikan woman, but the glinting flecks of gold in her eyes that gave her away as a daughter of the Empress instead of one of the Emperor’s consorts. She wore green silk robes that were bound tight at her top, but allowed to flow loose below her waist.

“This is Gongsun Xiulan, Eighth Imperial Princess,” Ali grinned. "She’s who to thank for putting me at your doorstep so easily.”

“And the point of you showing her off is?” Ahmed raised an eyebrow.

“Well, you see, I heard you had also gotten married, brother. I must congratulate you, but I never got the chance to meet your wife,” Ali said. "She fled the scene before I could introduce myself. Quite rude, don’t you think?”

“What do you want with Shahla?” Ahmed demanded. "Or rather, what do you want with her?” He pointedly asked the princess.

“My business with your bride is my own,” Xiulan said imperiously. "But you will tell me where she is.”

“You say that like I know where she went,” Ahmed scoffed.

“May I, Ali? I don’t want to do anything that may offend you,” the princess smirked, staring at Ahmed.

“He’s been dead to me since he separated from my kingdom,” Ali muttered. "Do what you want with him.”

Xiulan flicked her wrist, calling the room’s attention to a small, double-edged metal spike held onto her middle finger with a ring. She caused the spike to twirl in her open palm as she slowly approached Ahmed, a gaze of pure malice and devilish intent on her face.

“Torture and kill me if you want, princess. I’d rather suffer through it than give you Nikan anything,” Ahmed growled.

“I call upon thee, Shedim of my will,” Xiulan chanted. "Manifest, Cruel Mistress of the Rainless Valley.”

Ahmed’s eyes widened as a ghost seemed to rise from the princess’s flesh. Its ethereal form was a sickly pale green, its skin a layer of chitinous armor with no face save for a pair of malevolent eyes. Its taloned fingers spun spikes on them in perfect synchronization with the princess. Long wispy hair flowed from its head as though it were floating in water.

With its fish-like morphology below the waist, the creature slithered through the air towards Ahmed. The prince tried to put distance between himself and the spirit, but it was too fast. He felt a sharp chill run through his body as the spirit stabbed his throat with one of the spikes.

He felt no burning or blood loss. There wasn’t even a wound.

But Ahmed understood once the ghost returned to Xiulan. Water streamed out of where he’d been pierced by the ghost and into a large ball hovering above Xiulan. Ahmed’s mouth abruptly went dry, his lips shriveled and sticky. He collapsed to the ground from a sudden wave of vertigo.

All the muscles in his body cramped up at once, but his throat was too dry for him to scream.

“Where did you send the princess?” Xiulan demanded.

Ahmed could do nothing but writhe and gasp like a fish out of water. She returned some fluid to him out of the large collection over her, allowing him to speak.

“Why do you care? Aren’t I your prize?” Ahmed groaned.

“You were. But then a little birdie told me she put three of my men to sleep without touching them. That makes her an infinitely more valuable target than you.”

Ahmed decided to, instead of saying another word, gather the fluid left in his mouth and spit at her.

“He will be a pain, but I think I’ll keep him alive until he decides to talk,” Xiulan said. "But only with just enough water to live.”

Some of Ahmed’s body fluids were returned to him, his muscles relaxing. He gasped in relief, though his mouth was still dry and his head still pounded.

“I look forward to our future meetings, Prince Ahmed.”