Golden Chains (The Colorblind Trilogy Book 3)

by Rose B Mashal

  “She was the best.”

  In my mind, the memory of the Queen Mother as she left Talia’s cell played vividly. The look of a traumatized soul on her face was something I couldn’t forget.

  I wanted to accept her apology, to forgive her. I didn’t agree with anything she’d done and, I still couldn’t decide if I should.

  “You’ve hurt me badly, but I was lucky that Mazen made it in time to save me from your hands,” I started. “It won’t do anyone any good if I keep imagining what would’ve happened if he hadn’t.

  “I can’t blame you for everything that happened with Talia. It’s not your fault that I’m sad. It’s not your fault that my husband’s depressed, or that I can’t seem to help him snap out of it,” I said. “I can’t blame you for our broken hearts. It wouldn’t be fair.”

  After a few minutes of silence, I spoke. “I can forgive you, Your Royal Highness.” I shook my head then turned around with half of my body to face her, seeing her eyes brighten for the first time in so long.

  “I forgive you, but my guard will always be up around you,” I told her. “I forgive you … but I will never trust you.”

  Indeed, my mother was a wise woman, no less than my grandmother. They had both always told me the most truthful things and gave the most precious advice.

  But this time, I couldn’t tell if my mother was right about one thing. She’d told me that forgiveness frees the soul. I forgave but I could only feel mine getting heavier.

  I thought, maybe I didn’t really forgive my mother-in-law after all. Because, as I’d told her, I would never trust her. Or was it because there were so many other people I needed to forgive first? Maybe that was it.

  I knew that Talia was one person that I could never, ever forgive. Heavy soul or not, forgiveness for her would never find its way into my heart. Deep inside, I wished that she would come back to life only to die again and again until the end of the world. Even dead and buried, her head unattached to her body, I couldn’t forgive her. Never would.

  I couldn’t deny that after my talk with the Queen Mother, some of my questions had been answered, and some actions were explained, but the problem of knowing just what my mother-in-law was capable of doing would never go away, not even after she had promised to never hurt me again. I knew that I should always keep her at arm’s length.

  Her teary eyes dropped down to the floor at my words, and there was a moment of silence before she replied, “Maybe someday I can earn your trust, my child.”

  “Maybe,” I said, doubting it could ever happen, even in a million years.

  Her sad smile was the only response I got from her. Taking a deep breath and then releasing it, I told her, “Well, I guess we’re done here. If you’ll excuse me, Your Royal Highness, I have a few appointments with several ministers.”

  Mazen’s mother wiped her tears with the tips of her fingers and flashed me a genuine – though sad – smile, nodding. “I understand. Thank you so much for agreeing to this meeting,” she said.

  I gave her a tight smile, walking past her as I made my way in the direction of the door. I was shocked when her hand gently grasped my arm, stopping me in my tracks.

  With disbelieving – and maybe a little bit furious expression – I looked at her hand holding my wrist and then up to her eyes, my look giving away my shock and annoyance.

  As if she could read my mind, she dropped her hand quickly, and her eyes seemed apologetic. I waited for her to explain why she had stopped me and she did so quickly. “

  Your Majesty,” she began, “a little tough love with Mazen wouldn’t hurt.”

  My eyes narrowed. What the heck could she possibly mean by that? I wondered.

  “You know, to make him ‘snap out of it’," she answered my unspoken question.

  I studied her features for a moment, and without another word, I left the room, wondering if she was giving me honest advice, or if she was setting me up for trouble with my husband.

  The second I stepped out of the queen mother’s quarters, Manar handed me back my cell-phone. “His Majesty has called six times, Your Majesty, and Prince Zaid is already waiting in your office for your meeting.”

  Six times? Geez!

  Even though it was Mazen who had encouraged me to go and meet with his mother, knowing that she wanted to apologize to me, I could tell that he was worried sick about me. He was afraid I might get upset. He didn’t have to say anything for me to realize that – I could see it in his eyes. His six calls in a matter of twenty-five minutes confirmed my thoughts.

  “Call Yasser and find out if His Majesty has a meeting at the moment,” I said as I walked to the office area. Manar, Brad, and a number of other guards and secretaries had to hurry to keep up with me.

  A minute later, Manar spoke. “The private secretary of His Majesty says that he’s answering letters for the next hour, Your Majesty.”

  “Good. I’m going to pay him a visit.”

  The worry was etched upon Mazen’s features. As I stepped inside his office, it took a moment before he raised his eyes and saw it was me. His face lit up, and he rose immediately to greet me. I couldn’t contain my smile.

  “Everyone is dismissed.”

  In just a few seconds, his office was clear of everyone but us. “Princess,” he breathed as he took me in his arms.

  I wanted to come and show him that I was okay, to let him see it with his own eyes. But the minute I felt his arms around me, I knew that I needed to see him just as much to get through my day and complete my duties.

  Inhaling his scent as he kissed my hair and rested his chin on top of my head, I could forget my troubles and all of the weight I carried on my shoulders. In his arms, I had my own personal slice of heaven.

  For a few minutes, we just hugged, and Mazen swayed us a bit. We both knew that each other was all we needed. And when he backed away an inch, it was only to look into my eyes, maybe making sure that I was indeed okay.

  “I was worried about you, princess. I almost told you not to go.”

  “I know, but I’m fine,” I said, and just for his sanity, I added, “I promise.”

  His lips touched mine when I smiled, and the passion of our kiss warmed my heart and my soul. I could only think, I have everything I need right here in my arms. I could only think, nothing could ever keep us apart.

  Boy! How wrong was I!

  Finally home, I was met by Donia, who greeted me with her usual sweet smile. This time, though, there was something different. She was biting her bottom lip all the while she was helping me change clothes. She looked anxious, which wasn’t like her.

  “Is everything okay, Donia?”

  “Huh? No! I mean, yes! Yes, everything is okay, Your Majesty.”

  I studied her for a moment, and then I asked again, “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  “Um, no … uh, it’s just …”

  “What is it? You can tell me,” I assured her.

  “I– … uh, Officer Rania wishes to talk with you for five minutes, Your Majesty,” she said with her eyes on the floor.

  “Officer Rania? Our Officer Rania?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  I was a bit confused as to why she didn’t just talk to me and request a meeting, given we see each other almost every day. She was one of the royal female guards of the wing. I wondered why it was a big deal for Donia to even inform me of the request.

  “Ok-ay … call her,” I said, wrapping the silky robe over my nightgown.

  “Now, Your Majesty?”

  “Yes,” I smiled, “you’d better hurry up before His Majesty gets here.”

  Donia grew even more anxious when I gave her the permission, which made me almost positive that whatever Officer Rania wanted me for had something to do with Donia.

  A minute later, I was sitting in an armchair in my bedroom when Rania came inside and stood in front of me. After exchanging a polite greeting, I noticed that Donia hadn’t left. She stood behind Rania with her head bowed and
her bottom lip trapped between her teeth, her cheeks red as a lobster.

  “Your Majesty,” Rania started, “Donia’s wedding is in December, and she’s begging your kindness to give her a seven-day break, promising she’ll be back right after. She apologizes for disturbing you with such a request and understands if it’s not possible, Your Majesty.”

  “Oh,” was the first thing that came out of my mouth. I hadn’t expected that at all. “How old are you, Donia?”

  Please, don’t say sixteen… I begged silently.

  “I’m nineteen years old, Your Majesty,” she replied with a low voice, her eyes still digging holes in the floor.

  Not much better, I thought.

  After a long pause, I turned my head in Rania’s direction and asked, “Was that all?”

  “Uh, yes, Your Majesty.” Rania sounded a bit confused; I hadn’t given her my answer, but she didn’t push, of course.

  “Okay, you can leave,” I said with a polite smile.

  Donia attempted to leave with her, but I told her to stay. The poor girl was about to swallow her lip whole. She shared a look with Rania before she left, and I had to shake my head at her silliness. She was truly terrified.

  “I didn’t even know you were engaged, Donia,” I said once Rania closed the bedroom door behind her.

  “It happened a few weeks ago, Your Majesty. Also, it’s not a matter worthy enough to trouble Your Majesty with.”

  I shook my head again and stood up. “Why didn’t you ask me yourself? Why did you have to bring Rania to do it?” Did she think she wasn’t worthy of receiving my approval? I really hated the thought of that.

  “Uh, I’m only your maid, Your Majesty. I thought it might be offensive if I–…”

  “You’re such a silly girl,” I interrupted her. “Do you think Rania is closer to me than you are?”

  The girl has seen me naked almost as many times as my husband, for God’s sake.

  A shy smile played on the lips that she’d been abusing for the past fifteen minutes, and I had to chuckle. “You really don’t have to make such a big deal over everything. It’s your right to have a holiday after all,” I told her. “You can have a whole month for a break, Donia. I really hope you have a great honeymoon.”

  Donia looked up with big wide eyes. “Really?” she squealed. It was such a joyful thing to see.

  “Yes, really,” I said. “But I have only one request.”

  “Anything you ask, Your Majesty, of course.”

  “I want to attend your wedding.”

  When I thought her eyes couldn’t grow any bigger, Donia’s mouth almost dropped to the floor. “What?”

  “I’m asking you to hold a table for the King and me,”

  “Your Majesty, I’m Bedouin, my wedding will be in the desert,” she said, almost sure that I would lose interest.

  “Just another reason for me to come. May I?”

  “Of course, Your Majesty. Oh, my God!” Donia squealed, and I had to chuckle again. She lurched forward to hug me, but then contained herself and settled for a hand over her mouth to hold in her scream of excitement.

  I shook my head for the third time and opened my arms for a big hug. “Congratulations, silly girl.”

  It was still too early for bed when Mazen got home, so after we had dinner, we decided to watch a movie together. We settled on some Rom-Com, something light that would give us some laughs. God knows we both needed it.

  We were lying on the couch with my back pressed against Mazen’s chest as I sat between his legs. One of his hands was playing lazily with my hair, while I was covering the other with my own over my stomach.

  To be honest, I wasn’t really watching the movie. I had so much on my mind, and I wasn’t able to focus on the huge screen in front of me. I didn’t think Mazen was watching it either since he wasn’t laughing. Not that I was any better, but I doubted Mazen was even trying.

  However, lying in his arms was the most comforting thing I could think of, and I wasn’t going to complain. The events of the day kept repeating in my mind. I tried not to give the meeting with the Queen Mother any more consideration, but it was hopeless. All of her words rang in my ears, especially her last ones.

  My worries about Mazen were much bigger, anyway. I hoped he could find it in him to see the path to forgiving his cousins, like I had found for his mother. But I doubted he would; their betrayal of him was particularly cutting.

  My only wish was for him to find peace. He was troubled, and I had no idea how to take it all away.

  “What are you thinking about, princess?” Mazen asked in a voice just above a whisper, interrupting my thoughts.

  “I haven’t seen little Marie in three days,” I told him because I couldn’t speak my true thoughts ― or more accurately, I didn’t want to.

  “That much?” he sounded surprised. He knew I wanted to do nothing more than play with little Marie all day long, every day. I nodded with my lips pressed into a line, even though I knew he couldn’t see it.

  “I saw her yesterday,” he said.

  “Oh.” I turned around a bit so I could see his face, my head still on his shoulder. “Did you talk to Janna?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “About Joseph?” I knew Mazen wanted them to work things out. I wanted the same thing, at least for little Marie’s sake. But for Mazen, it was more than that. He’d promised his dying father that he would try his best to reunite them.

  “Not this time,” Mazen said, and I looked at him to let him know I needed more details. “She’s too stubborn, Marie. She always has been. It drives me crazy, but I can’t force her to do something that she doesn’t want to do.” He sighed.

  I pursed my lips, feeling sorry that life seemed very complicated for Janna. “It’s been over a year.”

  “I know. But I have a feeling that Janna will come around,” Mazen said. I had to hold on to the hope that his feeling will come true and someday our siblings could get back together and be a family again. There was nothing that was impossible for God to do. He could reunite them in a matter of minutes if He willed it. I made a mental note to add them in my prayers more often.

  “I hope so,” I said.

  A few minutes of silence passed before Mazen started kissing my hair and the side of my face, while his hand that was lying on my stomach started to unfasten the robe I was wearing.

  Our lips touched in a steaming-hot kiss while my back was still pressed tightly into his chest. It didn’t matter to me that the position was awkward; his hands squeezing my breasts were such a sweet distraction.

  I breathed heavily as he worked his magic on my body, and his tongue played sweetly with mine.

  The only thing that made me break our kiss was that I couldn’t fight the urge to watch his fingertips as they played with my nipples. He was pressing on them with two fingers at once, only to twist them a bit then pull on them, making me go wild with desire.

  When I could finally make out the sight of his fingers on my breasts through my half-closed eyes – my breath caught in my throat.

  I had to squeeze my eyes shut and open them a few times before my vision was clear enough for me to be sure that what I was seeing was real and not just my imagination, and I wished I hadn’t.

  Mazen’s knuckles were blood red. There was only one explanation I could think of that would’ve made him earn those marks.

  My husband had been punching something … or someone.

  That night, I couldn’t let Mazen keep touching me. His touch was forever comforting and I’d always want it, but I didn’t feel like that at this moment, not after seeing the bruises on his hand. I simply couldn’t have him touching me – not that way, anyway.

  Mazen certainly felt how stiff I’d suddenly become. He halted the motion of his hands, and placed them on my waist. He sat up a bit as if he was trying to see my face.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  The words were choking me but didn’t want to escape my mouth. I wanted to ask about hi
s hand; I wanted to know what he’d done. But I already knew the answer, and I was too emotionally exhausted to listen to him try to evade my questions.

  “No, I’m not feeling well,” I told him, then I got up and attempted to leave, but he was right there with me, his arms wrapping around me protectively.

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing, I’m just not feeling well,” I shrugged myself away from him, and walked back to our bedroom. “I need to get some sleep.”

  In bed, Mazen asked more than once if he’d done something wrong, or if he could get me anything. The answer was “No.” to all of his questions. I couldn’t speak to him about how I truly felt or why I was upset, and he didn’t push. For that, I was grateful.

  That night, I couldn’t hold back my tears. They silently fell, but I guess Mazen was able to tell because he held me to his body with my back towards him without saying anything. That kind of closeness was very much welcomed, and I didn’t try to wiggle myself away from him this time.

  My tears were due to my worry over Mazen’s wellbeing. The bruises on his knuckles were too dark, meaning he’d punched something hard – it couldn’t have been a person that he’d hit.

  Of course, it was something he did out of frustration, but that wasn’t what had upset me the most. It was the fact that he’d looked fine last night and this morning. He looked some sort of okay to me, but he really wasn’t.

  He was hiding his upset from me, pretending. Just like me.

  I didn’t know exactly when he’d gotten those bruises. Was his distress due to my meeting with his mother, or was it something else? I wondered if he did it more often than I was aware of.

  That night I fell asleep with a heavy heart and woke up with a troubled mind.

  The next day everyone noticed that I was off. It wasn’t really something I could hide, nor was I trying to. Contrary to my normal self, I was impatient, and snapped whenever someone couldn’t get the things I’d asked for right on the first try.