***
{Outside The Projection}
The world saw them act like a normal couple once more, and the hall naturally began to buzz, experiencing sothing of a sugar rush, or as the ladies called it, a swoon-worthy mont, a flutter of the heart.
This, before them, was all too endearing, even though the subject of their fights wasn’t about who forgot to throw out the trash, or to cover the toilet when relieving themselves, but the Fate of their entire continent, and Malik literally burning towns of them.
Every ti their private life spilled into view, they all felt the sa thing, and now, seeing them like that—misunderstanding each other, arguing, sulking, and making up without really saying the words—it really felt... normal, taking the edge off the perpetual tragedy they’d been going through for at least a mont.
Feeling much the sa, Layla looked at the projection with a familiar bitter smile.
She was reminiscent, rembering sothing no one else in the hall could see.
mories that soured into regret or sweetened into nostalgia every other minute.
By this point, there was no doubt to everyone who saw her that there was sothing seriously wrong with her, talking so freely with who she once thought was her father’s killer, sleeping with him, arguing with him, lecturing him, but...
They understood why.
Back then, it must’ve really made it easier for her to live with Malik when he accepted such ridiculous ’punishnts’ from her, even though he was the Goddamned Sultan, the one ruler of the known world, able to throw her away and replace her in seconds.
That was the continuation of his rcy.
His final act of kindness to her.
And the current Layla understood that very well.
While she, Huda, and Dunya were off to dreamland, reminiscing of tis both long and short, the rest of the hall couldn’t help but wonder...
Did any of the East burn as well?
Did they co to Malik and beco his subject?
Were they as smart as Scheherazade, who had obviously bet right?
To throw her lot in with Malik without demanding a single concession was either brilliance or madness, and in this hall, no one could tell the difference anymore.
They didn’t dare ask her, of course, and it wasn’t like she was going to answer.
Though this ti, it wasn’t only due to her... quirk, but also because she was...
She, like the other three, was lost in the past.
The smile currently on her face would’ve stunned most in the crowd.
Fortunately for her and them, no one looked back, thinking of the East.
The East was a shadow on every map, the piece of the world people knew and heard about but never saw. There weren’t any paintings of the land, only descriptions in books, and those couldn’t exactly be trusted; they knew that by now.
Perhaps, like Corruption’s origin once before, it was a secret known only by Sultans.
Or maybe, not even they knew... maybe no one ever did or would.
And ’perhaps’ that was for the best.
***
{Inside The Projection}
The inside of a certain courtyard and garden was warm, filled with lazy humming.
Its source was Sinbad, who slouched against the edge of a bench, wings tucked in, looking as if the world could collapse and he’d still be in no rush to move.
Malik stood across from him, gaze sowhere over Sinbad’s shoulder.
"...Your wives."
Eventually, and so very rarely, he spoke first, asking about sothing Sinbad never expected.
"How are they?"
Sinbad’s head turned to the garden, or rather, to those in it.
"Alive, as you can see."
His eyes held a smile, knowing full well his Elder Brother never asked without a reason.
"Why? What do you wish to know?"
Malik didn’t answer right away.
His gaze remained on the owls, big and small, enjoying their new ho.
"You..."
He paused, trying to piece together the right words from a pile of broken ones.
"How do you deal with them when fights co up?"
That earned a full chuckle from Sinbad.
"Ah... so we’re here now."
His feathers ruffled.
"Let guess—Dunya had you act like this?"
Malik’s expression didn’t change, but he gave the smallest of nods.
"Is it that obvious?"
Sinbad’s eyes held a wider grin.
"Mmhm. Well, to begin with, when you pose soone a question, you ought not look as though you an to depart halfway through their answer."
Malik blinked.
"...So I should pretend to care."
"Not pretend, actually..."
Sinbad clacked his beak.
"Yes. At least appear to care. Nod here, grunt there, that’s what you like to do, no? Maybe even ask a follow-up question. Keep the other person thinking you’re listening, even if your head’s sowhere on the battlefield."
Malik’s eyes dropped to the stones beneath his feet.
"...Alright. I’ll note that."
"Good boy~."
Sinbad teased, leaning forward.
"So. Tell , what’s the grand mission Dunya’s roped you into?"
Malik’s voice ca flat:
"Be more human."
Chuckling, Sinbad shook his head.
"Sweet girl."
Malik nodded a second ti.
"...Yeah."
***
{Outside The Projection}
’That’s ~!’
Dunya raised both arms, celebrating.
Though unlike the one before her, no one heard her. This was but a thought.
Well, no one except Sinbad, as he looked down with a smile, ruffling her hair.
She giggled at his touch, screaming once more:
’Loooooook~!’
And he certainly did.
As did Layla and Huda, forever grateful for Dunya.
Once this was over, they were sure to hug.
***
{Inside The Projection}
"So..."
The owl’s head tilted.
"This is about Layla, is it not?"
Malik’s gaze shifted to him for half a second.
"Yes."
A dry little chuckle rumbled out of Sinbad.
"She had you cultivate on the couch, had she?"
Malik gave a slow nod.
"She did. You do that too?"
Sinbad fluffed himself, half in mock offense.
"No, Elder Brother, that is why one takes four wives. Quarrel with one, and you turn to another. A matter of rotation, you see."
Malik shook his head slowly.
"One is trouble enough; a harem is ridiculous. Besides... I could never treat her so dishonorably. We have not married with a harem in mind. It’d be a betrayal."
The owl blinked, as if that answer was inevitable.
"Expected you’d say that."
He gave his wings a shake, settling them back against his sides.
"So go do what you do best."
Malik tilted his head slightly.
"...Kill her?"
Sinbad let out a laugh, hopping closer.
"No, fool. Obsess over it. Show her you care."
Malik leaned back, shoulders easing against the wall.
"Ah. So I should teach her how to be a Trumpeter of Death."
There was a pause.
"No. Ah..."
Sinbad’s golden eyes narrowed.
"Actually—sure. Do just that."
***
{Outside The Projection}
Layla had her arms folded as if to shield herself from the weight of so many eyes.
The way Malik stood there had caught her, the way he talked about her, the way respect never left his eyes.
He was so gentle with her... he always was.
She couldn’t help but draw a slow breath.
’So that’s how it began.’
An unwanted thought stubbornly curled through her.
All this ti, she wondered what brought the change, but it seed that this was it.
This was the mont he finally decided to train her, making her the woman she is today.
It was sothing Malik never revealed, even when she pressed him, and here it was, directly from his lips, spilled into the open for all to witness.
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