The Sheikh’s Pregnant Foreigner

by Leslie North

  There weren’t enough hours. Not nearly enough.

  “Go back to your meeting.” He resisted the urge to pull Gina in close and keep her there. Let the rest of the day burn out around them, let time pass, let the palace fall. But no. Always, there was something more than what Skandar wanted. As prince and as king it was never so simple.

  Gina gave him one last lingering glance, eyes searching his, but she offered nothing but a nod and a smile and a squeeze of his hand. “I’ll see you when it’s over,” she said, and then went back toward the receiving room, where laughter was filtering out through the door. His mother had always had a light touch with the people who came to see her. At least that would stay the same—when it was over.

  If only you would stay, he thought after her, the words making no sound.

  16

  Skandar climbed the steps of the city courthouse, a building that had stood the test of time through centuries, with a certain disbelief. The day had arrived. He’d made it this far. But it didn’t seem like he’d gone anywhere at all. If time could unspool, taking him back to the moment that Gina had appeared outside the circle at those rites—

  Then what would he do?

  He shook his head and held up a hand to the press, hoping they took the gesture for confidence. Ahead of him, Gina waved and grinned as if she’d lived in the capital city her entire life. Was she greeting photographers by name? He wouldn’t put it past her. And her outfit—oh, it was her. She’d put on a smart skirt suit, the hem falling almost to her knees. It had been days since he’d seen her in anything but formal robes and dresses for her meetings, and the skirt suit reminded him forcefully that she was the same woman who had jumped into the rites headfirst and never looked back.

  Inside, the cool of the building seeped into all the available space, chilling the inside of Skandar’s collar. The group of them—Skandar, his sister, his mother, and Gina—went inside the main courtroom at the head of the crowd. They would enter first, but everyone else would follow. He swallowed hard. Nothing in his life had ever carried such weight. Nothing except asking Gina to stay at his side. Nothing except finding out about the baby. Nothing—

  It was time.

  Skandar took Gina’s hand as the panel of delegates, along with the judge who would act as the moderator, made their way into their respective areas. “Good morning,” he told them, holding each one’s gaze for a beat. “I’m so pleased to have you here.”

  There was no more time to be irritated with his uncle for setting all of this in motion. Gina stayed at his side, greeting them all again. One by one, she shared a quick conversation with each delegate. All the different factions were represented—business, tribal leaders, nobility, and citizens—and they would argue their own points for their preferred ruler. He’d been fairly sure that he had most of them on his side, but now, in the courtroom, Skandar couldn’t be sure. Other observers—members of the press, his advisors, Nassif’s advisors, and government officials—filed into the room, the crowd larger by the moment. So many factors out of his control, but only two possible outcomes.

  He closed his eyes for a brief moment and let out a breath. All that was left to do was make his speech and let them decide.

  The judge settled in, gaveling the convocation to order. Into that hushed rustling of people taking their seats, a door at the side of the courtroom opened and Nassif strode in, looking self-satisfied and a little annoyed that he had to be bothering with this formality at all. He waved at the judge, then came down and took the table opposite Skandar. Instantly, there was a shift in the room. Nassif had his own supporters, and they’d be rearranging themselves to sit nearer to his table. A power play if Skandar had ever seen one. His own supporters had met him at the steps of the courthouse, but Nassif had waited until the proceedings had started to reveal his base.

  “Your Honor.” Abd, of the Turala tribe, half-rose from his seat and signaled the judge. “We wanted to make a motion for a spokesperson for the tribes.”

  Skandar stared. This early in the convocation? But he graciously nodded his agreement to the judge, and so did Nassif.

  “I’ll hear the motion,” replied the judge in his patient voice.

  Abd shared a glance with the rest of his elders. “I’ve been in consultation with the other tribal leaders, especially Issam of the bin Shibanah.” Issam rose enough to make it clear he agreed. “We’d like Sheikha Gina to be our spokesperson. She has managed to bridge the divide between the city and the desert, and she understands what we represent. Yet she also understands the city like none of us do.”

  A murmur went up in the crowd, spreading quickly through the gallery. Skandar opened his mouth to protest.

  “Of course I accept.” Gina’s voice rang clearly over the assembled convocation, and Skandar felt like he’d stepped off the edge of a cliff without knowing the path was ending. He moved toward her by instinct—they’d come up with a plan, they had to—but a gavel from the judge stopped him where he stood.

  “The motion is accepted,” said the judge. “But we must adhere to the rules. Only the tribal representatives may speak with your selected spokesperson. Neither the ascendant king nor the challenger may know in advance what each representative will say, to avoid undue influence.”

  He knew that. Of course he knew that. But the ancient rule chafed now. How could he enter into this kind of transaction without knowing what the other side was asking for? He’d spent days crafting his speech. Would it matter once Gina had given hers? She had to do this on the fly. She could say anything.

  “We’d like to call for a five-minute recess,” said Abd.

  It was granted by the judge, and Gina went off into a side room with a clutch of tribal representatives. When the five minutes were up, they still hadn’t emerged.

  “We’ll begin with the other speeches,” ordered the judge, and then it was on. Each of the main factions had several representatives, and the very first one—a woman wearing a pink traditional robe—stood to argue in favor of Skandar.

  Good. He let out a breath he’d been holding for what seemed like years and forced himself to relax. One after another, his supporters stood and argued that he should be the one to guide the kingdom. He knew the traditions. He had worked with them before. He had a genuine love for the country. On and on and on. His confidence grew no matter how hard he tried to tamp it down.

  And then Bakir al-Abboushi stood up from his seat. Saud sat next to him, looking straight ahead with a smirk. “It would be a great honor if the royal family remained intact,” he said, and Skandar had to stop himself from staring. What kind of speech was that? “A union with one of the prominent business families and the royal family would cement our relationship for years to come. My son would be honored to assist in the running of the kingdom in whatever way he could.”

  He was so sure of himself, so nakedly ambitious. Right here in the courtroom, Bakir was laying the royal family’s plans bare. He wanted the entire city to know that Skandar had arranged for Shahd to marry Saud, and he was pushing for more. A position for Saud at the palace, for one thing. Skandar swallowed down a hot frustration.

  The door at the side of the room opened, and Gina came back out, followed by most of the tribal delegation. The judge waved her forward, and Skandar couldn’t breathe. The anticipation was enough to crush him, but he stayed alive, breath by breath.

  “The tribes of this country have little to offer the crown,” Gina began, her voice so clear, so perfect. “But what they offer the country is its past and traditions. Its heritage. The tribes are the spirit and soul of the country, and that spirit must be allowed to flourish on their ancestral lands with the sanctity of those lands guaranteed. The only thing we want from the next king is nothing. Nothing material, that is. But the tribes insist upon respect and honor.”

  He blinked. An anti-drilling speech? His own presentation crumbled to dust in his mind. He’d prepared himself to make the case that the city needed to do more for the tribes. Permanent wat
ering holes. Medical care. Veterinary care. Schools. But Gina was making the argument that they should be left alone. He lost her next several sentences as his mind worked overtime to come up with a new angle for his speech. But Gina’s eyes met his, jolting him out of his thoughts.

  “But Skandar is the leader who can balance all these things.” He felt the words in his soul. “He has a big enough heart to ensure that all his subjects flourish. He understands what makes people feel whole and fulfilled, and granting this is important to him. So he might have some hang-ups with communication.” A light laughter filtered up around him. “He can sweep in and announce something that many of us find surprising.” That was for the market traders, he realized—he hadn’t explained the renovations were for them, not for his own profit. “And there’s me, for another example.” More warm laughter, mixed with applause. “Skandar might have some stumbling blocks, as do we all, but we can trust his warm heart and generosity to get us there in the end.” Gina turned her head, and he saw she was looking directly at Shahd. “Thank you.”

  He was lost, with no way to find his own footing. Skandar felt like he was high above the room, searching for the ground. Gina didn’t look bothered in the least, like she had her feet firmly planted, but what was he supposed to do? His presentation was all facts and figures, trades and promises, carefully calibrated to respond to the things they’d learned over the course of all the meetings he and Gina had held. Ruling the country would be a quid pro quo, not this touchy-feely stuff.

  The tribes had changed the whole proposition. They’d put Gina front and center, and they’d taken the knees out from under him.

  Skandar straightened his back. No. They’d surprised him, that was all. A solution was there, in his head. Only—it was hard to see. How did one offer a trade for “nothing”? Gina’s words flitted back and forth in his mind, tangling themselves up with the information he’d taken such pains to learn and the maps of the country and the figures he knew like the back of his hand. The tone he’d been intending to strike wouldn’t work here. Not anymore. But where was the new path? And how much of that description had been Gina? How much belonged to the tribes?

  Had she been an accurate representative of his relationship with the tribes? Was she accurate?

  Did he want her to be?

  Questions compounded until they were a noisy mess.

  The judge spoke into the silence that settled over the room after Gina’s speech. Skandar knew he would be thanking each delegate for their input, but he couldn’t focus on the exact words. His turn was next, and he had no idea what to say, despite having agonized over his presentation for days.

  People shifted in their seats, waiting for him to speak, but Skandar didn’t dare open his mouth. He’d only fumble the words. What had happened? Simplify, simplify. The tribes had offered him their support in exchange for...nothing.

  It didn’t add up.

  Skandar was used to the web of transactions that kept the wheels of the country spinning. This for that. Mutually beneficial deals, or at least deals that could be made mutually beneficial after the fact. The tribes were asking for almost a separation from the royal family, which wasn’t in the spirit of the convocation. Or perhaps it was. He couldn’t tell.

  He pasted a smile onto his face, and across from him Gina let out a little sigh that reminded him of relief. He had no idea how long he’d been standing there, trying to think through the problem, but it had been long enough that whispers rose around the courtroom. They were asking about him. Skandar felt the balance of power shift away from him in that moment, shift toward his uncle, who stood tall and proud and stone-faced. Nassif wasn’t rendered speechless, he was only waiting for his chance.

  Skandar took a few steps forward, as if to take his place in front of the judges and address the room. He cast about for something to say—something, anything. The ancient bond between tribes and rulers. The way all the pieces of the kingdom needed to come together to function as one.

  “Honored elders,” he said, speaking to the very back of the room, voice as clear as he could make it. “I’d like to request a recess.”

  17

  The judge peered at Skandar from his raised seat, and his stomach folded itself inside out. A burst of sheer terror swept through him and disappeared, stomped out as quickly as it had come, but the nerves lingered. If he wasn’t granted a recess, then he’d have to speak now. And he needed a minute. With Gina. Now.

  “Due to the change in representation, I’ll allow a brief adjournment for you to marshal your thoughts. The anteroom is yours.” The judge motioned to the same anteroom Gina had disappeared into earlier, and Skandar forced himself to walk toward it in a slow, steady fashion. On the way, he signaled to Gina to follow him, but when Shahd moved to stand, he waved her down. Are you sure? she mouthed. He gave her a nod that his mother could see, too, and the two of them bent their heads together. It was the longest walk of his life. Skandar saw the dust motes in the air, a chip in the polish around the doorframe, a scuff in the otherwise pristine floor.

  And then they were in the meeting room, Gina hurrying to close the door behind them. The solid wood clicked into place, hinges neatly oiled, and Skandar breathed in the scent of old books. One wall was all bookshelves, like they’d had in the school library. If only he could go there now.

  Gina folded her hands in front of her and met his eyes, and Skandar was torn in two all over again. She was stunning. Even here, in the fluorescent light of the anteroom, her red hair shone and her green eyes were bright with determination. He pushed a hand through his hair before he could stop himself, then patted it back into place. “Do you remember the conversation we had when I told you that I have to know all the pieces being played?”

  “Of course.”

  “This is not the day to be blindsided.” His emotions threatened to spill over. Skandar had never been so tense in his life. The stakes had never been higher. Not once. It was the wrong day to have something crop up like this, and she had to have been aware of it. Keep it under control, Skandar. Don’t lose it now.

  Gina cocked her head to the side. “I didn’t know they would ask me to represent them, Skandar. I couldn’t say no.”

  He swallowed a sharp irritation. Gina constantly leapt from one thing to another to help everyone. She couldn’t resist an invitation.

  “It’s not just the surprise of it,” he argued. “It’s the content of the surprise.” Irritation bloomed into anger, and he bit it back. He had put in a lifetime of preparation for this moment. Everything Skandar had ever done was guided by the knowledge that one day he would be the king. He hadn’t expected to be tackled out of nowhere by his own wife. He hadn’t expected to have a wife like Gina, but that was another conversation. “You made me look ridiculous.” He hadn’t succeeded in keeping the edge out of his tone—he could tell by the way her eyebrows rose. “Now I have to recoup all that ground.”

  Gina opened her mouth to interrupt, but he wasn’t done.

  “You knew the areas I’d been working on for my speech. You could have mentioned any one of them. If you couldn’t recall the details, then you could have at least relied on your knowledge of me. You should have known.” He let out a breath, but it did nothing to release the valve of this emotion, which felt too close to fear for comfort. “You should have known what to say to play to my strengths.”

  She looked stung, her eyebrows up and her mouth open. “I do know you. The person I described is you. The best version of you, if you’d just let it be seen. You’re the man who cares for and loves his family, which means the people of his kingdom. That’s the man I’ve come to admire and love. If you deny that man—” Tears glistened at the corners of her eyes, and suddenly Skandar couldn’t remember if he’d ever seen her cry before. “If you deny that man, then you’re denying what I experienced. Was it meaningless? Was it all—”

  “The man you described—if he even exists—cannot rule effectively. I can’t be that naive, and neither can my consor
t.”

  A stunned silence sucked all the air out of the room. Gina’s hand went to her throat, and her gaze darted to the door. Behind it, there were voices—the courtroom wasn’t a solemn place when the king was out of the room, and someone’s nervous laugh filtered in over the sounds of the general chatter. Skandar swore he could hear Shahd, speaking low to his mother, but that had to be an illusion. It was only the devastating silence in here that made him think it in the first place.

  Gina lifted her chin. “Then I can’t be your consort.”

  “That’s not—”

  The door opened, and Zaki poked his head in. He took in the situation in a glance and grimaced a little before he spoke. “Bad news. The council’s schedules mean they can’t really postpone very long. Nassif has offered to help get over the delay you caused.”

  “How?” Skandar had to force the word through a throat that had gone utterly dry.

  “By going first. Right now.”

  As if on cue, the noise outside softened and the crack of the gavel echoed through the open door. Skandar turned around to look at the bookshelves one more time. Whatever happened, these shelves would remain the same. Nobody ever switched the books out because their uncle wanted to be in charge of a kingdom. The books would be here, and Skandar would be here.

  When he turned around, Gina wasn’t there. Zaki still stood in the door, his face a careful mask. No doubt he was preparing himself for the moment he had to walk back into the courtroom and announce that the ascendant king had lost it and had locked himself in the anteroom.

  Well, that wasn’t going to happen.

  Skandar straightened up. He’d give a speech no matter what the cost. He had no other choice.

  Zaki went in front of him into the courtroom, and he couldn’t stop himself from searching for Gina. Where had she gone? Should he chase her down? He could find no hint of her red hair in the room. Run, a voice inside him said. Go after her. But he didn’t have time for that. And a much louder voice—the one that had always pushed him to do what was right for the kingdom, even if it was wrong for him personally—told him to stay where he was. He knew Gina’s unrealistic beliefs about the kingdom would result in chaos.