Maria felt as if the ground had disappeared from under her feet and she was sinking into a dark abyss from which there was no escape. She began to reel.

“As you wish, Master.” Eyes downcast, Shahrazad nodded. Zain then took her small hand and placed a gentle kiss on its back. It seemed to Maria a gesture of respect rather than an intimate one.

“You cannot do this.” she hissed, wishing she had something -preferably sharp- to strike the bastard with. She felt as helpless as a trapped mouse, and she absolutely hated it.

“I can, and I have.” The finality in his voice ratcheted her already-racing pulse up a notch.

“By what right?” Furious, she started to babble, “Who do you think you are? If you —Hey! I’m talking to you. Don’t you dare turn your back on —HEY!”

Zain did not look back at her as he left the room -missing Maria’s incredibly rude gesture. She heard the key twist in the lock. Her heart plummeted.

So, it had finally come to this.

Curse him! Damn him to Hell!

“What is your name, girl?”

Maria was startled by the authoritative tone. Quiet, but sonorous, hard and decisive. In the place of the demur lady stood a hawk eyeing her with…distaste? It surprised her.

“And what on earth are you wearing?”

Shahrazad started to circle her the way a vulture circled fallen prey in the sky. Maria instantly became self-conscious of her dishevelled state; dressed in men’s clothing that was dirty no less. She also probably smelled. Suddenly, she leaned closer, sniffed, then with an expression of disgust, shook her head disapprovingly and continued her circling. It was unnerving, to say the least. Next, Shahrazad seized a lock of Maria’s hair and felt it between her index finger and thumb. She made an unrecognisable sound. Releasing it, she came to stand directly in front of Maria. Her eyes met Maria’s.

“Strip.”

“What?” Maria thought she’d heard wrong.

Shahrazad let out a heavy, world-weary sigh. “Don’t tell me you’re hard of hearing as well?” Maria’s temper flared once again. She felt herself about to erupt at the moment. 

“Strip,” she repeated unblinkingly.

She stared at her, dumbfounded. Her temper quickly deflated as more and more question marks popped into her head. “Why ever would you ask that of me?” she asked incredulously. She looked down at her clothes, noting the dry dirt smudges and stains, and wondered if perhaps she smelled a lot worse than she’d initially imagined. She pinched the fabric, bent down her head and sniffed. There was a subtle smell of sweat and dirt, but it could hardly be called a stench.

“To examine you, of course.” Shahrazad said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“To examine me for what?”

“For any defects or health issues. To see if you are suitable.”

“Suitable? Suitable for wh—Oh,” she started to say, then abruptly stopped once the realisation dawned on her. Colour

crawled up her neck to her cheeks.

“Well?”

“No!”

“Strip, or I will strip you myself!” “I-I will not! It’s indecent!”

The two females began to struggle. Maria tried to dodge the older woman’s hands who were trying to grab onto Maria’s clothes, shoving them away from her. Shahrazad proved to be stronger -much, much stronger- than she appeared. In a matter of seconds, she overpowered her and with an iron hold on the thobe, tugged it up and over her head in one swift move. She squealed and crossed her arms over her chest to shield herself from view.

Shahrazad took a few steps back and eyed Maria (she was still holding the thobe). Her eyes roamed over her from head to toe, once, twice, thrice, always coming to rest on Maria’s bindings, then she breathed, “Are those bandages?” She said ‘bandages’ as if it were the greatest affront to humanity.

Shahrazad, of course, was referring to Maria’s breast bindings.

“Breast bindings,” she answered casually, trying not to fidget on her feet.

“And why ever would you need those?”

Maria wasn’t sure if she should explain her ‘situation’ to Shahrazad. The last time she’d explained it to a certain someone, she ended up in her current position. Then again, Maria suspected the woman would find out anyway. Zain would most likely tell her. Really, at that point, they could only kill her.

Shrugging, she retold her story for the second time that day. Maria inhaled a deep breath once she was done and met Shahrazad’s wide-eyed gaze.

Finally, the older woman spoke, “So, you disguised yourself as a boy because you feared Zain, upon seeing you, would capture you and throw you into his harem?”

Before Maria could even nod, Shahrazad exploded in laughter.