Shorab executes the vizier [Ending 2]

The mystery had begun with Sultan Abuz, found dead inside a locked chamber. No blade, no poison, no wound had ended his life. His **** had been too strange for ordinary means.

Anis’s story made sense. He was not clever enough, nor competent enough, to orchestrate a **** so intricate. But Vizier Zain, greedy, fat, and steeped in forbidden rituals, was another matter. Whispers of black magic and dealings with spirits clung to him like incense that never faded.

Shorab did not hesitate. He ordered the vizier’s arrest.

When the guards stormed into Zain’s chambers, they found what Shorab expected. Books of black magic lined his hidden shelves, and among them was one that described the summoning of an Ifrit, a vengeful spirit that could slay a man within a locked room. The evidence was clear enough.

Shorab felt no doubts. The vizier had killed his father. He gave the order for Zain’s execution. The fat man’s screams were short-lived, his body consumed by the justice of fire and steel. Shorab told himself that his father was avenged.

But even as the ashes cooled, new intrigues bloomed in the palace.

Shortly after the execution, Yasmina, the young widow of Sultan Abuz, married Anis, her late husband’s younger brother. Shorab was surprised. His widowed stepmother had offered herself to him shortly after his father's ****, whispering promises of pleasure in his father’s bed. Why then did she suddenly turn to his uncle, an older man with greying beard?

What piece of the puzzle was missing?

Anis, however, was delighted. Retiring from politics, he left the golden palace behind and moved with his new wife Yasmina to his country manor. There, at last, he claimed what he had always envied most from his brother.

Day after day, night after night, he took a naked Yasmina in his arms, fucked her in every way, drinking deep of her body as though she were the sweetest of wines. He had no throne, but in her embrace he felt richer than any king. His brother's beautiful young widow was now his personal fuck toy.

Shorab, too, moved forward. He secured his bloodline through marriage, taking as his wife Princess Badroulbadour, the untouched virgin princess of a nearby kingdom. Unlike Yasmina, who had been thoroughly enjoyed by his father, touched and fucked by the old man night after night, Badroulbadour was pure and unspoiled, a jewel yet untouched by any man. Shorab felt the satisfaction of knowing that what he took, no other had claimed before him. His wife would come to his bed a virgin, not his father's sloppy seconds.

Princess Badroulbadour was dazzling, the moon of moons. She had golden hair, sapphire eyes, and skin the color of rich chocolate. She entered his bed chambers adorned in blue silk, gold, and gemstones, her breasts round and heavy, her hips wide and perfect for bearing children.

"Ah, husband!" she cried when he took her virginity, her hymen pierced by his cock. Night after night he buried himself in her, filling her with his hot seed, claiming her womb as his own.

Soon she swelled with his child and gave birth to a strong son. But that was only the beginning. Again and again he spilled himself inside her, and again and again she conceived, until she had borne him six children: three proud sons and three beautiful daughters.

One evening, as they lay naked together in the royal bed, Badroulbadour pressed her warm body against his and whispered, "What are you thinking about, husband?"

"Nothing," Shorab murmured. His hands caressed her curves, but his eyes were distant.

For in the silence of the palace, beneath the weight of silk sheets and the scent of jasmine oil, Shorab still wondered. Had he missed something? Had the truth of his father’s **** been more complicated than the simple tale he had accepted?

The answer lay buried, hidden behind golden walls and perfumed veils. And though Shorab reigned as sultan, though he had avenged his father and filled his palace with heirs, a single doubt still lingered in the shadows.

Had justice truly been done?

Ending 2