The Unlucky Bride Is Loved by the Fortunate Desert King - Chapter 16 – Arabian Sweets

Several days had passed since I was confined to Al’s residence. The mansion had suddenly grown restless and noisy.

From the slightly open door, I secretly peeked into the corridor, where servants were hurrying back and forth in a flurry of activity. This wing was separate from the main building, so no one ever came directly to visit me.
Yet the atmosphere that filled the entire estate was clearly different from before.

Apparently, many foreign merchants had begun coming and going as well.

“What are you doing? Peeking out with just your face showing.”
“Al… sama.” So much for trying not to get caught—Al had already noticed me completely.
“I told you, just call me Al. May I come in?”

Whenever he found time between his duties, Al would visit me like this. When I was alone, Ishaq would drop by instead; we’d have tea together, and he would teach me about this country. He was intelligent and well-read, and everything he taught was fascinating—our conversations were always enjoyable and full of learning.

I knew I had to meet Asuad. To say I wasn’t anxious about it would be a lie.

And yet, just as strong as that anxiety was my growing wish not to be separated from Al. Taking advantage of being a “bird in a cage,” I allowed myself to remain here a little longer.

“Al, the mansion’s gotten kind of lively lately—did someone arrive?” I handed him a tall glass of lime-mint tea as he sat on the sofa. Al thanked me and took a sip.

“Ah, there’s a festival coming up. Soon, there’ll be a grand celebration for the highest goddess, Hera. Everyone’s busy preparing for it.”
“Oh! What kind of festival is it?”

“The goddess Hera is the wife of Zeus, the supreme deity of the myths. Because of that, she’s revered as the goddess of marriage and unions. The whole nation celebrates the festival to pray for good matches—it’s quite a grand event. Somewhat similar to a carnival, I suppose. The streets will be lined with feasts and stalls selling kebabs and other foods. Are you interested?”

I had never attended a festival in a foreign country before. I couldn’t help wondering what it would be like.

“If you have time, Al-sama, I’d love to go together.”

To my surprise, Al fell silent and began thinking deeply. “Well… I just got stuck with a troublesome role earlier. I told that damn old man I didn’t want to, but he wouldn’t listen.” He muttered a curse under his breath, and I tilted my head curiously.

“Did you get some sort of job to do?”
“He said I’m to perform the ceremonial prayer during the festival. On a day meant for drinking as much as I please—what a killjoy.”

“Yuzu,” Ishaq’s voice came from the door just as he entered with a tray of sweets, “Al-sama has actually been chosen as the star of the festival.”

On the tray were basbousa, a traditional baked cake, and ma’amoul, a kind of filled cookie—both of which happened to be my favorites.

Basbousa was made with coconut powder, soaked in syrup, and sometimes infused with rosewater or rich yogurt for fragrance. Despite looking like a heavy dessert, it was surprisingly light and far too easy to eat too much of.

Ma’amoul, on the other hand, was a cookie kneaded with flour, dates, honey, and crushed peanuts. The buttery aroma paired perfectly with black coffee. It was so popular that every household supposedly had its own secret recipe.

Even though I was trying to watch how much I ate, Al reached over, snatched a ma’amoul from Ishaq’s plate, and popped it straight into my mouth.

“Ah—Al!” It was delicious, but the embarrassment made me raise my voice.

“Honestly, you two—stop flirting right in front of me,” Ishaq scolded flatly.

“It’s not like that!” I protested.