Beholden to the Throne

by Carol Marinelli

  ‘You can’t seduce me into saying yes.’

  ‘I can.’

  He could.

  He actually could.

  ‘Yes,’ she begged, for she wanted it to be ended.

  ‘Manners?’ How cruel was his teasing.

  ‘I’ve forgotten them!’ she screamed, and then screamed again as he drove into her.

  Fierce was the passion that filled her. He did not stop for a second to let her think, did not let her draw breath to reconsider. He had her and he would keep her. Each buck inside Amy told her that. Each pounding thrust confirmed she was his and Amy knew that was what she wanted.

  ‘Please …’ she sobbed, her legs coiling around him, possessing him, locking him in while ensuring his release.

  She gave in as he did—gave in to the ultimate pleasure, lost in the throes of an orgasm that sealed their union as they pulsed together in time, lost with the other and returned together, lying with each other as they would now every night.

  And Emir slept as he never had, in an untroubled sleep, for he knew that this was right.

  Except Amy could not rest beside him. She heard every car that passed and listened to the rain battering the window in the early hours of the morning. She was petrified about what she’d agreed to.

  She was going to be Queen.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  ‘You need to come home,’ was his answer when she told him her fears, and she knew that he was right—knew that Alzan was where she wanted to be.

  They did not stay long in London. Just long enough to sort out her things and for Amy to try and convince her mum, who would fly to Alzan for the wedding, that she knew what she was doing, that it would all be okay.

  And how could they not be okay? she asked herself. For it felt so right to have Emir by her side.

  The journey home was a blur—the luxurious plane a mere mode of transport that allowed her to follow her heart. Even the people cheering the arrival of their King and soon to be new Sheikha Queen did not really register. But for all it was a blur, for all her mind was too busy to take in every detail, Amy would never forget her return to the palace.

  He held her hand as they walked through the foyer where he had not kissed her goodbye, as they walked up the stairs—together this time—and then to the nursery. Emir let go of her hand, stepped in first, and she walked in quietly behind and smiled at the delighted reaction when the twins saw him. They were playing with their dolls’ house, making everything right in a world where they could, but their beloved toy was instantly forgotten. Their father was back and that was all the girls needed to know—and then they saw her.

  ‘Ummi!’ It was Nakia who squealed it first and Clemira frowned, glanced at her sister and chastised her, for she had learnt that word was bad.

  And then Clemira looked over to where her little sister was pointing and when she saw who was there she forgot to be the leader; she just burst into tears and took first steps towards Amy.

  ‘It’s okay.’ Amy realised how much she had been hurting because her pain was gone the second she picked up Clemira. Poor Nakia stood too, but her legs didn’t know how to walk yet, so she burst out crying too, and cried some more when Amy picked her up. Overwhelmed, the twins cried till they were smiling, kissing her face because Amy was crying too. She looked to Emir and it was the closest to tears she had ever seen him.

  He had lost so much—his parents, his wife and almost Amy. That he could trust in love again was a feat in itself, and his decision was the right one, Amy told herself as she held his new family.

  How could this be wrong?

  Yet Amy awoke on the morning of her wedding with dread in her heart. She understood why Emir had been unable to make his decision when love was around, for when he was close, when he was near, it felt so right that they marry, that love was the solution. But Emir had spent the eve of his wedding in the desert, and without him it was far more than pre-wedding jitters Amy was struggling with. This morning she didn’t even have the twins to keep her busy, for they were being readied for the wedding by the new nanny.

  She felt as if she were cheating the people.

  The maid came in and opened the window and the room was filled with humid desert air. Amy felt as if it was smothering her as she tried to swallow the ripe fruit that had been picked at dawn in the desert and prepared and served to her.

  As was the tradition for the future Queen of Alzan.

  The maids watched as she drank fertility potions from huge goblets and with every mouthful Amy felt sicker. Each taste of bridal tradition choked her and reminded her of the cheat and liar she was.

  She bathed and had her make-up and hair done. Her eyes were lined with kohl and her cheeks and lips rouged. But she could see the pallor in her face and the guilt in her eyes as blossom was pinned into her hair—‘For innocence,’ the maiden explained. Amy closed her eyes on another lie as she remembered the love they had already made.

  A dress of pale gold slithered over her head and she thought of her mother who, though there for the wedding, was stressed. She had done all she could to dissuade Amy. As late as last night she had warned her daughter of the mistake she was making, had offered to take her home; she had told Amy that she was taking on too much, that though the country was cheering at the union now it would soon turn against her, and maybe in time her husband would too.

  ‘No.’ Amy was adamant. ‘He loves me.’

  Yet she felt guilty accepting that love. What should be the happiest day of her life was blighted by the knowledge that she could never be the Queen the people really wanted.

  And now the final touches. She could hear the excitement and anticipation building in the streets outside, for the wedding was to take place in the gardens and the people had gathered around the palace.

  ‘The people are happy,’ the maiden said as a loud cheer went up.

  ‘It is King Rakhal and Queen Natasha, arriving,’ a younger maiden informed the busy room, watching the proceedings from the window. ‘They have the young Prince with them.’ She looked to Amy and smiled. ‘They won’t be able to gloat over us for much longer.’

  And now the maiden tied a necklace around her throat which had a small vial at the end of it. Amy knew even before the maiden told her that it was for fertility, for Clemira and Nakia had received a similar necklace in the desert. Emir’s response then had been brusque, but the maiden was more effusive as she arranged it around Amy’s throat.

  ‘It is to ensure that the sands remain as Alzan.’ She placed it over the scar on Amy’s throat and Amy could feel her rapid pulse beating there against the vial, could hear the cheers from the people of Alzan building outside, she could feel the sweat removing her carefully applied make-up as the humid desert air made it impossible to breathe.

  ‘Amy?’

  She heard the concern in the young maiden’s voice, and the shocked gasps from the others as they saw how much she was struggling.

  ‘I can’t do this,’ was all Amy remembered saying as she slid to the ground.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ‘SHE is late.’

  Emir heard the whispers in the crowd and stared fixedly ahead. Though outwardly calm and in control, he was kicking himself, for he should not have left her alone last night. He knew the reason Amy was late was because she was reconsidering the union. He realised that perhaps, for her, it was too much too soon—after all, his decision had been more than a year in the making. But Emir knew he could not lose his love to a prediction, knew he was right, and he would go now and tell her the same.

  ‘That is not necessary,’ Patel informed him. ‘She is better now, apparently. They have given her salts to smell and some fluids to drink and she will soon be on her way.’

  As Amy approached she reminded Emir of the first time he had met her—pale and quiet but somehow strong. She had helped him so much at that heartbreaking time and he wanted to help her now, wanted to take her away from the gathered crowd, to talk to her, soothe and reassure her, but o
f course it was impossible.

  ‘You are okay?’ Emir checked as she joined him at his side, and his hand found hers.

  She was touched at the gesture, for he had told her that today was duty, that feelings would not be on display—for in Alzan love usually came later.

  Not today.

  ‘Nervous,’ Amy admitted, which was perhaps the understatement of the century.

  The magnitude of what was about to take place had hit her again as she’d walked through the fragrant gardens and seen the crowd, and she had thought she might pass out again. There was Hassan, the reprobate brother, standing tall and silent by his brother’s side. King Rakhal and Natasha were there too, regal and splendid, but she’d barely glanced at them. First she had looked to the twins, dressed in pale lemon and sitting on the grass holding flowers, but though she’d melted at the sight of them today it was Emir who won her heart a thousand times over.

  His robe was pale gold too, as was the kafeya on his head, and she was overwhelmed by such male beauty, by the curve of his lips that barely smiled as they greeted her but that would caress her mouth tonight. She ached for tonight, to be in the desert with him, but of course there were formalities first.

  For a country so steeped in tradition, the wedding was surprisingly simple.

  ‘He asks,’ Emir translated, ‘if you agree to this union.’

  ‘Yes,’ Amy said, and then remembered and answered for the judge. ‘Na’am.’

  ‘He asks that you will obey me.’

  He saw the slight pursing of her lips, for they had discussed this a few times.

  She pressed her thumb into his palm, to remind him of the million subclauses to her agreement, and then she answered, ‘Na’am.’

  ‘He asks will you nurture the fruits of our union?’ Emir saw the tears fill her eyes and he wanted to hold her, but all he could do was press his own thumb to her palm to remind her that this was right.

  She could not look beyond his shoulder to where King Rakhal stood, and beside him Natasha, so she looked to her soon to be husband and answered him. The press of his thumb was a reminder of just how much this man loved her. ‘Na’am.’

  The judge spoke for a few moments and she waited, then Emir’s hand was in the small of her back, telling her to turn around.

  ‘What happens now?’ Amy asked.

  ‘We go back to the palace.’

  ‘Back?’ Amy asked. ‘But the wedding …?’

  ‘We are married,’ Emir said, and then he broke with tradition.

  Even if it was brief she felt his arms around her, and the soft warmth of his mouth as Emir kissed his bride. It was not the cough of the elders that halted them but the two little girls who protested at the lack of attention.

  Back to the palace they walked, holding one twin each, and she watched as Emir glanced up to the sky. She knew he was telling Hannah she could rest now, that the girls would be looked after as she had wanted.

  And they would be.

  Amy wanted to be alone with him, wanted their night in the desert, but first came more formalities—a sumptuous meal and endless speeches. Finally it was Rakhal’s turn to speak, and Amy felt her hand tighten on the glass she was holding. She wondered what barb was about to be delivered—not that she would know it when it came, for the speeches were in Arabic. Emir would translate for her.

  She took a deep breath as Rakhal addressed the room, realised her fingers were suddenly tight around Emir’s for he squeezed her hand back.

  ‘My wife predicted this.’ Rakhal spoke in English and Amy’s head jerked up. ‘She said she knew on the day she met you,’ he said. ‘It was the day of my father’s passing.’

  Amy blinked, because that was a long time ago—long before she had had feelings for Emir. Or had she? She remembered that time. Emir had gone to offer his farewell and she had spoken briefly with Natasha. She had been so confused and bitter then, so angry with Emir for the distance he put between himself and his daughters.

  ‘I said she was wrong.’ Rakhal looked at the new Queen of Alzan. ‘And I said she was wrong again at my son’s naming ceremony. But this is one prediction that has been proved right.’ Rakhal looked to Emir. ‘Your Highness, I congratulate you on your wedding.’ He spoke in Arabic, some words she recognised—long life, good health—and then again he spoke in English. ‘The Kingdom of Alzirz celebrates with you today.’

  How hard it was to smile as he raised a glass to them.

  Hard too, to make small talk with Natasha a while later, for she was so determined to be friendly.

  ‘You look wonderful.’ Natasha smiled, but Amy could not help but be cool in her responses—could not so easily manage the feigned politeness between the rivals. ‘Rakhal tells me you are honeymooning in London?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘With the girls?’

  ‘Of course,’ Amy said through gritted teeth.

  ‘When you return we must get the children together, Clemira is so taken with Tariq, and …’

  ‘We’ll see.’ Amy gave a tight smile. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me …’

  She turned straight into the chest of Emir and he rescued her with a dance. ‘You will be polite,’ Emir warned her. ‘You will be pleasant.’

  ‘I am being.’

  ‘No.’ He had seen the ice behind her smile as she spoke with Queen Natasha. ‘When a queen speaks to you …’

  ‘I’m a queen now too.’

  He smiled down at her angry eyes. ‘I will speak with you later. For now I will tell you to be polite.’

  ‘I don’t get it, Emir,’ she bristled.

  It annoyed her how well Emir and Rakhal were getting on tonight—oh, she knew it was all for show, but still it riled her. She put it aside, for it seemed impossible to hold a grudge on this night. The whole palace was alive with celebration, there were parties in the streets outside, and though she ached to be alone in the desert with Emir, to be with her new husband, it was the best night of her life.

  Amy allowed herself simply to enjoy it right up to the end, when she accepted a kiss to her hand from Rakhal and, as instructed, smiled and chatted briefly to Natasha as they prepared to leave for the desert. Then it was time to say goodbye to the twins.

  God, but she loved them. Nakia was now literally following in her big sister’s footsteps, toddling too, and both loved calling out ‘Ummi’. They would always know about their real mother, but it was bliss not to correct them, just to scoop them into her arms. She did it now, kissed their little faces and told them she would see them tomorrow.

  She feared the wedding night in the desert more than a little—always felt as if the desert knew something she didn’t, as if somehow it was a step ahead of them.

  ‘It’s dark.’

  The last time she had been there the sands had been lit by a huge moon, and there had been stars, but tonight the desert was clouded—not that Emir seemed concerned.

  ‘There will be rain, which is good,’ he said. ‘After rain comes new growth.’

  The rain met them as they landed—a driving rain that had the helicopter flounder for a moment, a pelting rain that soaked through her gown. As she stepped into the tent maidens were waiting, wrapping her in shawls, and a feast was laid out for them. There were a thousand things to get through when all she wanted was to be alone with him, to speak with him. Emir must have sensed that, for he dismissed the maidens and took her into his arms.

  ‘Should I be offended,’ Emir asked, ‘that my wife did not enjoy her wedding day?’

  ‘I loved it, Emir.’ She looked up to him. ‘Every moment of it.’

  ‘Every moment?’

  ‘I struggle to be polite to Natasha and Rakhal. I understand that I have to be, that without communication …’ She did not want to talk about them on her wedding night but, yes, she might have been a little rude. ‘I struggle sometimes to stay quiet when I believe there is injustice.’

  ‘I had worked that out,’ Emir said. ‘I know there is much on your mind. All day I
have wanted to speak with you. There is something you need to know, but there has not been a suitable moment.’

  ‘Oh!’ Amy had been about to say the same thing. ‘Emir, there is something—’

  ‘Amy,’ he interrupted, for his news was too important not to share. ‘You know I spent last night in the desert? Usually the night before the King marries is a time for feasting and celebrating; instead I spent that time speaking with Rakhal.’

  ‘And you didn’t pull your swords?’

  He heard the teasing in her voice. ‘Rakhal listened to all I said to him that day—he thought long and hard about it and though things have worked out for him, though he is happy, he does not want the burden he carried to be passed on to his son. He agrees that we are Kings without power unless we make our own rules for our own lands.’ Emir picked up the vial that hung around her throat, knew the terrible pressure that had been placed on her. ‘Our decision will be refuted by the elders, of course, but with both Kings in full agreement there will be no going back.’

  ‘I don’t understand?’

  ‘The predictors are wrong,’ Emir said. ‘Alzan and Alzirz are two strong and proud countries. It is time for them to break free from the rules of old. Of course the people and the elders will challenge this. They believe …’

  ‘Emir!’ That whooshing sound was back in her ears, ‘Emir, wait!’ Anguished eyes looked up to him. ‘I did enjoy today, every moment of it, and if I seemed distracted at times …’ Amy took a deep breath. ‘I didn’t faint from nerves.’ She still couldn’t take the news in, had been reeling from it all day. ‘Well, maybe a bit. But when the palace doctor examined me …’ She’d never thought she’d hear herself say these words. ‘I’m pregnant, Emir.’ Amy was crying now, and not just a little bit. ‘I had him retake the test and he is certain—it would seem that first night …’

  ‘But you said it was impossible.’ It was Emir who didn’t understand.

  ‘There was always a slim chance, apparently,’ Amy explained. ‘I just didn’t hear that and neither did my fiancé.And I never went back to the doctor to properly discuss things.’