The Nisā' Wing of Al-Yamamah Palace shimmered in silence, soaked in centuries of tradition and the haunting elegance of secrets never spoken. Soft, golden light filtered through the intricate latticework of mashrabiya screens, casting honeycomb patterns across the cool marble floors. The fragrance of oud, jasmine, and rosewater hung in the air like a royal decree—fragrant, powerful, and unchanging.
In this quiet sanctum—off-limits to nearly every man in the kingdom—the Crown Prince sat across from the one woman who could shake his composure: his younger sister, Princess Layla bint Salman.
Even here, where he was the heir to the throne, the man seen by the world as the future ruler of the kingdom, his authority mattered little. In front of Layla, power shifted. Not because she demanded it—but because she'd never known a world without it.
