“Protect the Queen!” Mazen shouted, and I didn’t know to whom he was saying those words. Whoever it was, I couldn’t really think about it – all I did was becoming even more terrified when he left me, took his gun out of his pants and started shooting with a steady hand. Each bullet was a success, but it didn’t help with how petrified I was.
“GET DOWN!” Fawaz barked at Mazen.
There were shots coming from downstairs, and I couldn’t help the awful picture that haunted my mind of Mazen catching a bullet, and I let out a scream when I realized that it wasn’t actually my imagination – it was real, Mazen had been shot.
“NO! MAZEN!” I shrieked, and in a split second Fawaz was flying to where Mazen was ― just two meters away. Fawaz pushed him down on his back, and lay on top of him, shielding Mazen with his own body. Fawaz’s body was like a magnet that absorbed the barrage of bullets meant for my husband.
With horrified eyes, I watched the very moment when Fawaz lost his life, fulfilling his promise and oath – protecting his king with his life and soul – even in death.
I saw Mazen raise his arm from under Fawaz’s body while holding a gun. He fired two shots in two different directions, and that was the end of it. I couldn’t hear any more shots.
To my relief, I saw Mazen as he pushed Fawaz onto his back and sat up. My angel was bleeding and looked to be in pain, and it only made my cries grow louder, but Mazen didn’t appear to be able to hear me, not at all.
For a minute, Mazen seemed to be in a completely different place as he looked down at the body of his prime royal guard – his shadow, his best friend.
“Fawaz!” he called, in the same tone you’d call someone who’s sitting beside you, ever so casually. It was as though he didn’t want to believe that he was dead, although he already knew that he was – bullet-proof vests were useless when it came to bullets in the back of the head.
“Fawaz!” he called again, this time in anger, as if he was scolding him for not replying to him. His hand grasped the top of Faris’ uniform and he started shaking him.
“FAWAZ!”
My heart broke at the sound of my husband’s cry; he was writhing in agony, and I knew there was nothing I could do to make it hurt any less.
My heart was bleeding along with Mazen’s as I witnessed the last moments in the life of Officer Faris Fawaz, the model of loyalty and sacrifice.
“I want both of them alive!” The Snake shrieked, proving me wrong when I thought that it was all over.
Her order seemed to get Mazen out of his haze, and when he got up, I let out another startled gasp, the back of his shirt was soaked in blood from where he’d been shot. He appeared composed, but I knew he had to be in great pain, and not just because of the bullet.
“Mazen, no!” I cried as I saw him approach where the sound was coming from.
“Get down, Your Majesty!” someone on the stairs shouted, but Mazen didn’t listen, he just kept going. It was as if he was moved by something other than his legs.
“Cover the King! Cover the King!” the person yelled when he knew Mazen wasn’t going to back off. Mazen was fueled by rage, and the need to avenge us.
I was going to be sick at the thought of him being near that monster. I didn’t care if he had a gun. I didn’t care if we had many officers of the Coast Guard –I could see that now – protecting us. I didn’t want him near her, ever.
It was too scary that I couldn’t see what was happening, I could only scream, and it wasn’t only because of the contraction I was going through, it was out of fear. It was even scarier that I couldn’t see what was happening in the room that Mazen had entered.
I screamed with the sound of every shot, as I gripped one of the bars on the railing behind me tightly.
It all happened in one minute –The Snake came out of the room. She was trying to run but her legs were too heavy. She was bleeding profusely, the color drained from her face, and the only thing left was the horrified look in her eyes.
I couldn’t deny that I felt a vast amount of satisfaction at the sight of her distress, of her pain, of her fear. I could not deny that I was glad she was experiencing just one ounce of what she’d put us all through. However, I was too worried when a long moment passed without a sign of Mazen.
Finally, he came back into view, carrying some glass bottles with him. He threw one after another at her feet, and I was perplexed as to what he was doing.
“Mazen, stop!” The Snake wept. “Please, Mazen, please!” she begged, but Mazen seemed unfazed; he didn’t seem to hear her. His eyes were cold, focused. He wasn’t blinking. He took one determined step after another as he threw bottles I could now tell contained alcohol.
“I’m sorry. I won’t hurt anybody again,” she said, and I would’ve laughed if I had it in me. She slipped and fell, still begging Mazen to stop and to have mercy on her.
Without a word, Mazen took a lighter out of his pocket, flicked it on, and ― with his eyes set on hers –threw it by her feet where alcohol had soaked the floor.
I don’t think I would ever forget her screams, they were buried deep inside my head. I don’t think I would ever forget the sight of the flames surrounding her body. And I knew I would always remember the disgusting smell of melting flesh, or the odor of burning hair and nails.
The minutes that followed were a fog of strange faces, people running all around me, moving me rapidly from one hand to the next to get me out of the mansion.
The one thing that was completely clear to me was Mazen’s order to the paramedics to see to my needs. He didn’t want them to take care of him or his bleeding wound until they took care of me. I knew he wouldn’t find rest until he knew I was safe.
At this point, my screams were nonstop, and the pain was too much. The contractions were coming fast, one after another after another. I was going to deliver in minutes, I could feel it. Although I was grateful that I was now in an ambulance and my baby wouldn’t be born on a dirty floor, something inside me didn’t want to give birth. I wanted to keep my baby inside, in the safety of my womb. The outside world might not be safe for him.
“Make it stop! Stop! Stop! Stop!” I yelled as the ambulance moved, I couldn’t take it. It was too loud. The awful memories threatened to smother me. The disgusting sensations were brought back.
“Stop the car, Your Majesty?” the paramedic asked.
“Stop the siren,” Mazen said in a strong voice. He knew me so well, he knew what I meant without needing an explanation. “Easy now, princess. It’s okay.”
“We’re not going to make it on time. I need to push!” I told him, my tone was panicked and my lips were trembling.
Mazen pressed tightly on his lips, making a thin line before responding to me, “Then push!” he merely said.
It was like he shared my exact thought of not wanting our baby in anybody else’s hands, because the next thing I knew, he was washing his hands with alcohol and proceeded to don gloves. He would be the one to welcome our baby to the world. I couldn’t even tell how comforting that thought was.
“Push, Your Majesty. Push.” The paramedic said for the tenth time, and I felt like telling her to come do it herself. I was losing my mind.
No pain I’d ever experienced my whole life was comparable to the pain I felt as I pushed my baby out. It felt like my body was being split in two, everything was too blurry except the almost unbearable anguish, which was all too clear.
I screamed incomprehensible words, thinking that I couldn’t do it anymore, that I would faint any second now.
“You’re doing so well, princess, just one more push.”
The pain suddenly ended as my husband received our son in his hands. I was too tired, and I could barely see, but I watched Mazen closely. I needed to gauge Mazen’s reaction to know how our baby boy was doing.
There was a frown, and there were no baby cries. It was precisely the opposite of what it should be.
The longest minute of my life passed as I watched my husband with
our son in his hands. He turned him over on his stomach and held him on one while the other slapped his back repeatedly with force that I thought was too much ― even if they really weren’t more than pats.
Adam was limp in his hands, and I realized he might not live. I started weeping violently. The pain in my body was eclipsed by the pain in my heart as I saw the look on my husband’s face – fear, wretchedness, and despair.
“Please, God! No!” My voice was broken as I begged God for the millionth time in the past hour to preserve someone I loved. This time, the heat of my prayer was too great as it was mixed with my agony and desperation.
My howling stopped abruptly when I heard the most beautiful sound in the whole world – my son’s cries. The change of the atmosphere inside the ambulance happened in a flash. In one moment, we went from grief and pain to utter happiness and relief.
The bright look of happiness in my love’s eyes as he held our son up for me to ogle was everything I needed to forget the pain, it was the best cure to the wound in my heart, the prettiest sight that my eyes ever got to witness.
“Adam,” Mazen said in delight that was slightly shadowed by the lingering sadness in his eyes. I chuckled, for it sounded as though he was introducing our baby to me. My small laugh faded at the same moment as darkness crept over me.
Now, I could rest.
Life goes on. It really does. You go through things that you never thought would happen. You cry, you break, and life around you still goes on.
You might want time to freeze, you might want to take a break, a break from everything – from your sorrows and misery, from life. But it’s not even possible, especially when you’re King and Queen.
There was nothing in this world that would’ve stopped me from paying my respect to all of our dead as they got their burial ceremony. Mazen honored all of who died to protect us in a state funeral, befitting heroes and faithful friends. No matter how lavish the service, it would never be enough to show how much it pained us to say goodbye to them.
Physically, I had not fully recovered, but I would not be deterred from sharing my grief with the victims’ families – the heroes’ families, the soldiers who’d given their lives to save my son and me.
The most emotional family meeting was with Officer Fawaz’s fiancé, Sofia. I couldn’t help my tears when I gave her the ring he wore every day. It broke my heart that she had to say goodbye to the man who promised her a long and happy life when they would get married someday, but the life that she dreamed of in bright colors and awaited eagerly would no longer come to pass. Knowing that she could never name their baby boy after her love, Faris – gutted me.
I made sure to spend time with the families and tell them how brave their sons were, how strong and fearless, and Mazen did the same. He gave his condolences eloquently, with warm, kind words that went straight to their hearts.
The weeks that followed passed in a haze. It was difficult to get back on our feet ― and not only because of how much my body was damaged, or how much the bullet in Mazen’s shoulder had affected him.
No, it was because of all the trauma we endured.
The feelings of loss, of fear, of pain – it all lingered in our hearts, and the images of every horrible event stayed buried deep in our minds.
We both knew that we couldn’t afford to dwell on it; we had a whole nation to take care of, millions of people who were counting on us for guidance.
We had to draw strength from each other, from our love, and from our faith. We had to keep going.
“The doors open in five minutes, Your Majesties,” Brittany – one of the palace managers – announced. We were as ready as we could be, but reluctant to proceed, although we weren’t saying anything about that to each other. I still read it on Mazen’s troubled face.
He didn’t want to do it.
“Are you ready, Your Majesty?” I asked my husband, and he lied to me with a nod. “Let’s go, then,” I said, because we had to do what we had to do.
“Leave him with me,” Mazen said as I reached for our little boy to carry him outside. I didn’t know what to say to him.
“Your Majesty, it’s protocol for the Queen to carry the Crown Prince,” Brittney protested, but he didn’t pay her any attention. He dropped his hand on my shoulder and escorted me to the balcony doors on the third floor of the palace.
The doors opened, and I painted a smile on my face as we took a few steps forward. I couldn’t lie – I was worried sick.
Mazen continued to hold me tightly to his body, as if he was trying to protect me from all of the people around the palace.
Taking a look at him, I saw that he was cradling Adam securely in the crook of his arm, holding him tight to the point he was almost covering him whole. His anxious eyes darted everywhere; he didn’t even want people to get a glimpse of our son.
It was so sad.
I started waving to the crowd that came to witness the first appearance of the Crown Prince. My smile was as tight as it could get. I wasn’t doing any better than Mazen as worry about our son’s safety filled me.
“Your Majesty, you need to wave to the audience. It’s the protocol,” Yasser whispered to Mazen from behind us, but Mazen didn’t want to give me Adam, nor he wanted to let go of me.
“I know what the protocol is,” Mazen said through clenched teeth, causing Yasser to back away.
My heart hurt for my husband. He was – just like me – too concerned to have our baby out in the open for everyone to see. Not that anyone could see much of him anyway.
I wanted to show him off to the whole world, and not just to the Kingdom. I wanted people to see how handsome he was. I wanted them to see the cute baby suit that he was wearing, the one that his grandmother had gifted him before he was born. I even wanted to show them his initials that were decorated with diamonds on his shorts. But I couldn’t do any of that, even if I’d wished.
The apprehension in my heart was almost unbearable.
Getting Adam out there was one of the most stressful things we had to do. But it had to be done. We delayed his formal presentation long enough. He was three months old when he was introduced to the Kingdom, a whole month after he was released from the NICU. We ran out of excuses for why it was taking us so long to do it, especially since he was now healthy enough to live his life normally. His life as the Crown Prince.
His first appearance was such a failure, and it saddened me. No one got to see how beautiful Adam was. He was a mini-Mazen, with his bright green eyes and his pale skin; only their hair was different, but not much. It was almost the same color, however, Adam’s was a bit lighter, with a few blond locks mixed in.
Mazen was able to finally breathe when we got back inside, behind closed doors. Adam went to the safety of Mona’s arms while we went to attend the other ceremony we had that day, Honoring Sheikh Qapeel, and most importantly, honoring Officer Bassel.
In front of everyone who came to witness the first appearance of our son, and on the national TV, Mazen announced hiring Bassel as our Prime Royal Guard and awarded Bassel the most honorable medal – which was only ever given to royal family members. He had bestowed this honor for his courage and bravery in protecting me, keeping me safe, and ensuring my return to the safety of my home.
The Snake arranged for the explosion and destruction of our beach house. Her cohorts left behind evidence which lead police into thinking that the Bedouins had been the ones behind everything.
All eyes were on them; people in the Kingdom even said that it was because of the new laws which I sponsored that the Bedouins wanted to get rid of me. I found that insane – the Bedouins were much more honorable than that.
Bassel called the Bedouins because he knew he could trust them, and they wouldn’t waste one second to get to me. Also, Bassel knew that The Snake didn’t have any spies with the tribe. She wasn’t watching their movements and whereabouts like she’d been watching the palace. She wouldn’t know the Bedouins had moved to come to my rescue. Not only tha
t, he also spoke in their dialect, knowing fully well that if someone could listen in on the call – they wouldn’t understand what they were saying.
But there was one who kept a close watch on the tribe – Fawaz. When he was informed that a large contingent of men was observed heading to Al’ameria, he’d known something was going on, but he didn’t tell Mazen because he was trying to protect him. Fawaz was well aware that if Mazen found out, he would insist on coming along, even though it was too dangerous.
What Fawaz hadn’t realized, though, was that Mazen knew something was up the moment Fawaz left him, and that something was about me. He literally had to escape from the rest of the Royal Guards with the help of my brother. He used the secret tunnels while Joseph followed Fawaz, and relayed their whereabouts to Mazen via cell-phone.
I don’t know what would’ve happened if Bassel hadn’t called in for reinforcements and our rescue. I’d probably be dead. Not only that, but it would’ve been a horrible death.
I’d read all about it in her diaries.
The Snake was, without a doubt, the evilest person I’d ever come to know – even Talia seemed to be an angel next to her. As a matter of fact, as crazy as it was, I’d started to think of Talia as her victim, not just her daughter.
Qamar wasn’t only evil, she was a complete psychopath who took pride in all of the devilish acts she inflicted on the Royal Family since the day His Royal Highness Qasem Alfaidy, God rest his soul, married Fahd and Janna’s mother, Princess Sarah.
Qamar was secretly in love with him, or maybe she was in love with his position as Crown Prince at the time. I believed that she loved the prospect of power, because someone like her could never know what true love felt like. She was incapable of that.
Her descent into madness started on the day of their wedding. In her diaries, she’d written all the things that she’d confessed to me, but in greater detail. Disgusting details. I didn’t know if I was glad or not that the Royal Guards searched her house in Paris and found her diaries. They found another one in Rosanna’s beach mansion where she’d imprisoned and tortured me.
Golden Chains (The Colorblind Trilogy Book 3) Page 33