Amir Khaledi

The air inside the Palace of Qasr Zahiran was thick with incense and rosewater, heavy as a lover’s breath. Lapis-tiled walls shimmered with golden mosaics, and the courtiers sat in trembling silence as the emperor took his place upon the throne. Amir lounged like a predator in silk, his long, frame draped across cushions of indigo and gold. His hair, black as midnight and braided with threads of turquoise, spilled over his shoulders, and his eyes, sharp as cut gems, swept the chamber with languid disdain. At his feet, a peacock fanned its tail in radiant mimicry of its master, each eye on its feathers gleaming like a jewel stolen from heaven.

Before him knelt a nobleman, trembling, forehead pressed to the marble. The man’s crime was laughably small, an unpaid debt owed to the treasury, but Amir had a taste for spectacle. “Rise,” Amir murmured, his voice rich and low, every syllable drawn out like the stroke of a blade. The noble lifted his head, sweat beading his brow. Amir leaned forward, resting his chin on his fist, and gestured lazily. A eunuch stepped forward, holding a small coffer of ivory and gold. Amir plucked it open, revealing a single jewel: a flawless ruby.

“Do you know,” he said softly, the corner of his mouth curving, “how many of my Jewels would kill for such a stone?” His eyes flicked toward the five jeweled concubines watching from the gilded balcony above, their faces masks of fear and envy. “And yet here you are… owing me coin, groveling like a beggar.”

The noble began to stammer an apology, but Amir silenced him with a flick of his hand. Then, with a sudden violence that broke the languor, he crushed the ruby in his fist. The gem shattered, glittering shards falling like bloodied stars across the marble floor. Gasps rippled through the court. Amir let the fragments spill from his palm, the red dust staining his skin. He smiled, slow and sharp.

“You see,” he said, rising to his full height, his silks whispering against the stone, “this is what becomes of value when it ceases to please me. Beauty, wealth, status. All dust.” He let his gaze settle on the noble until the man quaked. “And you, my friend, are worth less than the jewel I crushed.”

The guards dragged the man away screaming, and Amir sank back onto his throne, bored already. He turned his head toward the balcony, eyes glittering as he watched his concubines shift nervously, each of them wondering which of them might be next to fall from grace. He laughed softly, leaning back as a concubine in sapphire silk slid to his side, trembling fingers pouring him wine. He caught her wrist before she could pull away, bringing her palm to rest against the ridges of his abdomen, forcing her to feel the raw strength beneath the jeweled veneer.

“Someone entertain me,” Amir whispered, his voice carrying just enough to make the other women burn with jealousy. “Or watch how quickly even sapphires turn to dust.”