Kiss the Stranger

“Why is the pace so slow? Do you even plan to finish someday?”
Zahra’s voice dripped with irritation. I carefully sat up, wincing as my still-tender back protested, and forced a smile.

“My body hasn’t fully healed yet… It’ll be done soon, Zahra.”
She scowled, crossed her arms, and looked down at me. As I resumed weaving, she added,
“I’m tired of taking care of that cat all the time. Dogs at least obey you, but cats do whatever they please. And do you know how much Rikal eats? Fetching his meals from the kitchen every time is such a chore.”

Rikal indeed looked far healthier than when he’d stayed with me. Seeing him so well-fed was a comfort, but also worrying.
Wouldn’t Rikal be better off staying here?
If I left with him, I’d have to feed him myself again. Ghurab wouldn’t be around to bring food. If I returned to the oasis and ran into my uncle, what then?

Where should I go…?
I had to consider life after leaving the palace. Zahra wouldn’t care for Rikal without me. I steeled myself: of course I’d take him with me.
While I worked, Zahra played on her phone or chatted to fill the time. I tried to glean as much information as possible. Today, I watched her side profile as she focused on her game, then seized the moment when she looked away.
“How have things been lately, Zahra? You seem more at ease than before.”

“What do you mean at ease? Do you know how busy I am? Stop spouting nonsense if you don’t know.”
Her sharp retort made me stammer an apology.
“I didn’t mean it that way—sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

At my second “sorry,” her expression softened, though she still shot me a glare. Turning back to her phone, she muttered,
“I come here in my precious free time to show you the cat, and you can’t even thank me.”
“I do thank you. I’m always grateful, Zahra.”

I truly was. If she hadn’t cared for Rikal, I shuddered at the thought of what might have happened to him. I looked down at Rikal purring on my lap and smiled.
“You’ve gotten so heavy, Rikal.”
He lifted his head as if to say, “So what?” I leaned down to kiss him, but a twinge in my back made me pull a face. Rikal mewed in concern. I forced a laugh and scratched under his chin. He closed his eyes and purred again. Zahra, watching us, turned away with a huff.

“Good, you see.”
Balancing Rikal on my lap, I resumed threading the loom and spoke casually.
“Are you still busy? By the way, what happened to those foreign guests?”

Zahra glanced at her phone and answered absentmindedly.
“They’re tied up in conferences every day. The last visitors have left, but I heard more are coming at the end of the month—friends of His Highness, apparently.”
“Friends?”

I asked without thinking. She replied, “Yes.”
“I don’t know the details. That’s all I heard.”
“Right…”

I quickly changed the subject so she wouldn’t grow suspicious.
“You must get a breather soon. You’ve worked hard for those guests.”
“It’s nothing. Omegas like you have it easy—you just need to keep His Highness company at night.”
Her words made me pause, but I resumed connecting the thread under my breath. Zahra continued on her own.

“The King’s health has worsened, so there’s even more work these days. He’s so irritable, he issues orders at the drop of a hat. Everyone’s on edge.”
“Is the King very ill?”
I asked carefully. I’d never seen the King myself—only heard he lay in bed, unconscious.

“Worse than before. He constantly releases pheromones, maybe because he can’t control himself. Two of the servants have already ‘shifted.’ And Rikal has a nose for it—on the days I help the King, he won’t even come near. He bristles and tries to scratch me.”
“Rikal does?”
I asked, startled. Zahra added ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) haughtily,

“You should be grateful you escaped unscathed that day. But what’s with that cat’s temper? He glared at me even at mealtime—what did I do? And when it’s not feeding time, he disappears. Where does he go? Don’t animals stick with the one who feeds them? Are cats different?”
I looked down at Rikal, sleeping soundly on my lap, unaware of the gossip. Zahra grumbled on.
“Maybe he’s mellow because he gets fed. Anyway, Yohan, once you finish work, take him away. He’s driving me crazy.”

“Yes, of course.”
I said, though the half-finished loom stood nearby. How many years would it take to complete? But I planned to leave first. Since Zahra found Rikal bothersome, I could easily arrange to take him before that.
I needed to build trust first.

Once I finished about three more pieces, I’d broach the subject. I’d even chosen the one I could complete fastest—to seize the moment afterward.
‘The King, being in extreme alpha status, rarely gets sick. Everyone assumes it’s just old age.’
Remembering the steward’s words, I asked carefully,

“Has His Majesty been ill long?”
Zahra’s expression soured. She quipped,
“I’ve wondered that myself—how do you know so little? You don’t even know when the King fell ill.”

I was flustered, but she didn’t wait for my reply.
“It’s been nearly two years. He complained of headaches and stomachaches, then one day couldn’t walk. Now he’s bedridden. A few months ago he improved and even walked, but he’s worsened again recently.”
“I see…”

I murmured sympathetically. She continued nonchalantly,
“Everyone says his spirit’s ready to move on, like the previous King. Now that spirit transfers to the Crown Prince.”
When the King dies, the Crown Prince will ascend—and marry Princess Najima. I pushed the thought aside.

“Serving the King must be exhausting.”
“It can’t be helped. We take turns… though it doesn’t happen too often.”
“That task?”
I asked, but Zahra muttered to herself as she left.

“Oh—time’s almost up. This will be a mess again.”
She sighed, “I’m sick of it,” and I held my tongue.
After that, there was no more talk. Zahra vented as usual about various complaints, celebrities I didn’t know, and her fiancé. After a couple of hours, she took Rikal away. He tried to cling to me, claws out, but I gently forced him into his carrier.

“Sorry, Rikal.”
I swallowed a lump in my throat. Zahra, arms crossed, mumbled,
“You see him every day, but every time you say it’s like you won’t see him ever again.”

I said nothing and straightened up, sniffling. Just wait a little longer, Rikal. I’ll bring you back.
As I steeled myself, Zahra left the workshop carrying the carrier.
“You look almost fully healed—pick up the pace, unless you want me to die an old maid.”

She departed without waiting for a response, and I was left alone in the silence.
I headed for the Crown Prince’s chamber after dinner. I left the workshop at my usual time, stopped by the lab to wash up—I’d removed my bandages and only a few spots still had thick gauze—and then made my way. Having worked longer than usual, my back ached and fatigue weighed on me. I was grateful for the Crown Prince’s very comfortable bed. After taking the medicine Maysa left on the table, I’d surely sleep at once.
With that thought, I stood at the door. A page grasped the handle and the heavy door swung open. I lifted my head—but before stepping in, the scent hit me.

No way…?
Beyond the open door was the familiar chamber: the lavish canopy, elegant arabesque walls, the antique tea table with its chairs, the stool by the window, the bed where he always slept, and the sofa stool at its foot—all exactly as I’d seen in the morning. All except one thing.
Leaning against the window frame stood the man himself, looking at me. The man whose face I’d only ever seen while he slept. At the moment our eyes met, I froze.

Asghail.
An unbearably sweet fragrance washed over me.