Sofia's heart was racing as Arin led her to the edge of the village, the elder's son, Jafar, waiting with horses. Leila stood beside her, her eyes fixed on Arin. "What is it, Arin?" Sofia asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Arin's eyes locked onto hers, his expression serious. "Your father, the king...he's not your father, Princess."
Sofia's mind reeled, her heart pounding in her chest. What did he mean? She had always known her father, loved him. But Arin's words had planted a seed of doubt in her mind. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice shaking.
Arin's eyes seemed to bore into her soul, his expression intense. "Your mother, the queen...she was a slave, Princess. A slave in the palace, just like Leila. The king...he fell in love with her, or so he thought. But she was already pregnant, with you."
Sofia's world spun, her mind numb with shock She felt Leila's hand on her arm, a steady presence in the chaos. "Who...who is my real father?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Arin's eyes locked onto hers, his expression serious. "A man named Malik, a warrior from a neighboring tribe. He was killed in battle, and your mother...she was taken in by the king. She died giving birth to you, Princess."
Sofia felt like she was drowning, the weight of the revelation crushing her. She was a slave, like Leila.
No, not like Leila - she was a princess, with royal blood in her veins. But what did that mean?