3. The Ball

***

Writer's POV:

The palace people weren't surprised when the prince returned very late, drunk, high and smelt of cheap perfume from the dishonorable women he probably was with. Djafar had to order the guards to hurriedly take him up to his room before his parents had a heart attack, at the sight of their son. Lipstick stains all over his once, pure white and expensive shirt. Everyone pitied the old King.

--

"He's an airhead," Saïda told her father, while she fixed his bed with new sheets.

"Saïda, the language," Djafar corrected, resting in his armchair and tired from all the day's activities.

"Sorry, father. But it is true. I feel so bad for the king and Queen. They sure are nice people, yet their son gives them high blood pressure. I wish he could be a little more grateful towards them."

"Saïda, my dear. It is better we don't mind their business. I too, disapproves the Prince's attitude, but what can we do? His parents need to firm up a little more. Maybe it's not to late to change him."

"I hope," she stepped back, finished. "I'm done."

"Thank you, my dear," he stood and hugged his only daughter.

Djafar had two children. An older son, Ahmed, and Saïda. Ahmed had been sent to Istanbul for studies and to learn how to be independent. He returned to Zagreh every holiday. Djafar was a proud father because, alone, he'd raised his children into hardworking, independent and very intelligent people. He'd lost his wife two years after Saïda was born.

"You are welcome."

He kissed her forehead and she left.

***

The next day, it wasn't still surprising that the Prince hadn't come down for breakfast or lunch. It was past one in the afternoon, and he was probably still asleep. His parents didn't bother this time as they were busy, making sure the arrangements for the evening's ball were being made. Whether Asahd liked it or not, he would attend it and meet Zhou.

--

"Saïda, your father will give you a list of names of very important people that will attend the ball tonight." the Queen told the young girl, that afternoon.

"Yes, my Queen."

"You know all of them because your father has probably told you about them. They are royal friends and highly recognised personalities, here. You know how my son is," the woman shook her head in disappointment. "He knows none! And to avoid embarrassment, you'll go everywhere with him, tonight, and make him greet all these people. It's his duty as crowned Prince, to gain their favor. Go everywhere with him, and make sure the last person he greets, is Zhou's father and family. So that, he can spend some time with her, right after. After that, you can let him be."

"Okay, your majesty. Should I also stay with him, until he's done talking with Zhou?" Saïda asked.

"No, immediately he starts talking with her, you leave. I want them to spend some time together so they get to know each other a little," the Queen regained her fancy seat. "Hopefully, he will learn to appreciate her and just then, we'll fix things up for a wedding."

"With Zhou?" Saïda asked, a hint of amusement in her tone.

"Yes, my dear."

'Poor girl.' Saïda thought in amusement.

She didn't know the Zhou but already felt bad for her. Or amused, rather. Who could survive a day alone, with Asahd?

"If you won't be needing my services anymore, my Queen, I would love to return to my duties right away."

"Yes you can, dear."

Saïda bowed and left the place.

***

"Saïda will show you every single person you have to greet. And how. She'll tell you whom is whom and what you should discuss with them. Understood?" Djafar asked the Prince that evening, while he dressed and prepared.

It was past six and the guests were quickly arriving.

"Yeah," Asahd rubbed his forehead. His head was still hurting from last night's hangover. It was by miracle that he'd made it back home, safely. It was stupid of him to have driven in that state. He could've died!

"Need an aspirin?" Djafar asked.

"I– I think."

"That'll teach you to act like an airhead, the next time," Djafar mused.

"The language, Djafar," Asahd joked, chuckling a little and taking a seat. He was still a little dizzy.

Djafar went to get an aspirin, then returned and made him drink it.

Just then, his phone rang. It was his daughter calling. He excused himself any picked the call.

"Hello father, if the Prince is ready, I'm ready to teach him the little he needs to know, before the important guests, arrive."

"Okay. I'll send him downstairs," Djafar hung up and turned to the prince. "Saïda is waiting. You'll have to pass through the gardens, so the arriving guests don't see you."

"Hmm, I wonder how I'm going to retain all she's going to tell me. The time is limited."

"If you hadn't slept all morning and afternoon, you would've had the time."

"I plead, guilty."

"But don't worry. She'll stick with you for help until you're done greeting the main people."

"Okay then," he stood, feeling better. "How do I look?"

"Like a responsible prince. And you'll have to act like one tonight."

"I know right," he looked at himself in a glass. "This marriage stuff is killing me. I hope Zhou is very beautiful. That ought to make things a little easier."

"I have seen her before. Daughter of Mr. Raman Hassan. A beautiful young woman."

"I used the word very," Asahd mused. "I need her to be prettier than every woman I've ever met and servant girl in this palace. On a score from 1-10, how many do you give her?" he asked and the man laughed.

"Please, Djafar." Asahd insisted.

"Fine. She's probably an 8."

"Eight? Oh, sounds good," Asahd said proudly. "Hopefully, we'll get along."

"I hope so."

He fixed himself one last time.

"Time to go."

***

Asahd's POV:

I felt a little more enthusiastic after Djafar had told me, Zhou was an 8. And now, I was quite impatient to meet her.

I made my way through the huge gardens and carved bushes, in search of Saïda. The guards greeted and so did some other servants that I'd come across.

I was thinking about getting myself a whisky bottle, after the ball, when I finally spotted Saïda, at a distance. She was staring in front of her and had not seen me approaching from the side.

On seeing her, I froze for about a second or so. She was gorgeous.

Saïda rarely applied make up. I had never seen her with some, on. But now she'd applied some and even her dressing was a little more sophisticated. She was naturally pretty, and the accessories just added to it.

Other than that, she was annoying and kind of challenging. I tried not to dislike her, because she was Djafar's daughter. But honestly, deep down, I disliked her. And it was very evident, she disliked me too. Maybe even more. But it's not like I gave a damn. Fact was, Saïda was a little brat and had that little bossy nature, about her. I absolutely, hated that attitude.

She finally saw me approaching and turned to me.

"Good evening, your Highness."

She bowed a little.

"Good evening."

"Please, follow me to the open lounge."

She led the way and I followed. We sat in the lounge that was in the middle of one of the huge gardens.

"So," I started, "Start telling me about these people."