by Holly Rayner
She looked down at her belly with a sigh.
"I thought he could help me figure it out. Decide what to do."
"Tehar is a good man," Shadaf said gently, taking her hand. "I'm sure he's doing what he thinks is best. Whatever else happens, I know he won't abandon you or his child. It's not in his nature."
"I wish I could believe that," Kathy said, sitting down on the edge of the chaise. "But I don't know his nature. I'm starting to think I don't know anything about him at all."
"Well, we can help with that," Khalila said, sitting beside her. "Shadaf and I have known Tehar since we were children. There's nothing about him we can't tell you."
For the next hour or so, Kathy sat with Khalila and Shadaf, reminiscing about their childhood with Tehar. He'd always been reserved, weighed down by the expectations of his family. He'd had to grow up fast, and had never really learned how to be open about his feelings.
"Did you know," Shadaf said, peeling an orange with a small knife, using slow, meticulous strokes. "I'm actually ahead of Tehar in line for the crown?"
"I thought you said you were younger than him?" Kathy was sitting on the rim of a nearby fountain now, dipping her fingers in the water as they talked. Khalila had brought out some embroidery.
"I am," Shadaf replied. "But that would only matter if we were brothers. The current sheikh’s father was the oldest of three. His brother, the sheikh’s uncle, was my grandfather. His sister, the sheikh’s aunt, is Basira's mother, Tehar's grandmother."
"Sounds confusing," Kathy said, trying to follow it in her head.
"Royal lineages always are," Shadaf replied with a laugh. "Basically, if the current sheikh died with no heir, the crown would pass to his uncle, not his aunt. Through his uncle, my grandfather, it would pass to my father, and then to me. Except, because of my condition, it would never be allowed to pass to me."
"Really?" Kathy frowned. "But you seem perfectly fit to lead. Just because you can't get up and run around—"
Shadaf shook his head.
"The family would never allow such weakness to represent the crown," he said. "There is also the fact that I have made it clear I intend to produce no heirs. My condition is genetic, and I would never risk burdening a child with this."
Kathy felt a throb of sympathy for the young man, but he seemed to be at peace with it.
"Khalila and I have discussed adopting," he said, reaching for his wife's hand. "But I fear a child with no blood relation to the family would always be treated as an outsider. He could certainly never inherit. And as I will likely not be around to protect him…"
"You don't know that," Khalila scolded. "You could live to be a hundred. Nothing is certain."
"Of course, my flower," Shadaf said, patting Khalila's hand. But Kathy could guess from his expression that he didn't believe it.
There was a sound from the door and they turned, Kathy half hoping it would be Tehar. But it was his sister, Ihab. She said something to Khalila in Arabic and vanished again.
"Your room is ready," Khalila said, standing up. "I'm surprised it took so long. Would you like to go see it? You must be exhausted."
"I am," Kathy confirmed, standing up. "That sounds fantastic."
"I'll be back in just a bit, my darling," Khalila told Shadaf.
"Take your time," Shadaf assured her. "I'm not going anywhere."
Kathy couldn't help but feel a sting of envy at the way they smiled at each other, their affection for one another apparent, but she regretted it at once. Shadaf was dying, and their love, no matter how strong, wouldn't change that. There was nothing to be envied there.
Chapter Eleven
The room was splendid. Even among the many wonders of the palace, it still ranked among some of the loveliest rooms Kathy had ever seen. It was spacious, longer than it was wide, with the far wall almost entirely consumed by a beautiful arching window through which the blue light of the midday sky streamed. Kathy was fairly certain it opened onto a balcony, but at the moment she was preoccupied with the shining chandelier with its glowing flower shaped sconces, and the bed, which was wide enough for six people to lie down side-by-side.
Its embroidered comforter was a swirling landscape of gold that ended in the crisp white of the bedding peeking out below like the sea foam cresting a wave. The massive mahogany headboard filled the wall behind it, sculpted in precise geometric patterns. A backless couch sat at the end of the bed, and across from it, an elaborate vanity waited. Past that, nearer the window, were a table and two chairs perfect for an intimate breakfast. A final chaise lay just in the windows light, touched by the shimmering chiffon curtains. It was certainly the most luxurious room Kathy had ever stayed in. Khalila huffed in annoyance.
"Basira would give you the smallest room," she said, shaking her head. "And this decor looks like a hotel room. I will make her give you something better—"
"No, no, this is fine!" Kathy said quickly. "Please, I'll stay here."
"But she is trying to insult you!" Khalila insisted.
"Then she failed." Kathy laughed. "If you managed to find a room nicer than this, I'd probably faint, and then be too afraid to touch anything to actually make any use of it. This is perfect."
"She'll think you're simple," Khalila warned.
"I am simple," Kathy said with a shrug. "And I love this room. Also, I think if I don't lie down soon, I'm going to faint."
Khalila laughed a little, shaking her head.
"All right then," she said. "If you're sure. Get some rest, my friend. I'll see you soon."
She left, and Kathy, with immense relief, collapsed into the massive bed, which was the softest and most indulgent thing her body had ever come into contact with. She sighed with delight, her body finally unkinking after being crammed into that airplane seat so long, and fell asleep almost at once, which was all for the better. She didn’t want to be left alone with her thoughts.
She woke a few hours later to the growling of her own stomach. She'd skipped breakfast that morning and the night before she'd had had an overpriced airport salad for dinner when she landed in Riyadh, which she'd inhaled on her way to the hotel.
She fumbled for her phone and realized it was nearly seven there—almost dinner time, and she hadn't eaten all day. No wonder she felt like her stomach had been replaced by a black hole. She worried about the baby, her guilt like a gnawing insect. She shouldn't be skipping meals.
She sat up, bleary-eyed, her abaya twisted around her uncomfortably. She should have taken it off before she slept, but she had been too tired to bother. She was still straightening it out when someone knocked on the door.
"Come in," she called, heart leaping with the sudden hope that it might be Tehar.
But it was Ihab again. She said something in Arabic, to which Kathy shrugged helplessly. She didn't speak a word of it.
"Food," Ihab tried again. "Food, now."
"Dinner?" Kathy guessed.
"Yes, dinner." She pronounced it strangely. Kathy assumed Ihab knew only a little more English than Kathy knew Arabic. Honestly, she'd been relieved that Shadaf and Khalila spoke it so easily.
Kathy got up and finished straightening out her clothes. The abaya didn't wrinkle, thank goodness, and at least underneath the all-encompassing garment she didn't need to worry about dressing nicely for dinner. She followed Ihab as she led her through the palace to the dining room.
Kathy was glad for the guidance. She would never have found it on her own. She'd struggle to find her own room again tonight, even though she was desperately trying to memorize the turns and landmarks of the grand palace.
The dining room wasn't so different from what she was used to. Shadaf was already there, sitting in the middle of the table. Basira was on his left, in-between him and Khalila. Two seats had been left open to his right. Ihab went to sit with Fairuz on the other side of the two empty seats.
Shadaf smiled when he saw her.
"Perfect timing," he said. "Here, you'll sit next to me. This is the plac
e for honored guests."
"Thank you," Kathy said, sitting next to him.
"We're just waiting on Tehar," Shadaf replied.
Kathy settled in. The food had been served just as she arrived and was steaming attractively in the center of the table on silver serving dishes. Everything was heavily spiced and aromatic, and Kathy felt herself salivating at the inviting scent. But no one else at the table had touched anything, waiting patiently for Tehar. So, she folded her hands in her lap and resigned herself to waiting. She was starting to feel a little lightheaded.
Khalila and Shadaf chatted amicably in Arabic over Basira's head. Ihab and Fairuz talked amongst each other as well. Only Basira was silent, seeming to be staunchly ignoring Kathy's existence. Kathy, trapped by the language barrier, had no choice but to remain silent as well.
After about fifteen minutes, during which everyone but Basira grew increasingly restless, Shadaf straightened up and said something in Arabic.
"That's enough," he continued in English. "Tehar is clearly too busy to join us tonight and I'm not going to let this food go to waste. Let's eat. Sahtain!"
He reached for one of the silver dishes and started to put food on Kathy's plate. Basira reached out suddenly to stop him.
"Women do not eat until all the men have been served," she said, her voice low and tense. Shadaf stared back at her, at first surprised, then angry.
"She is our guest," Shadaf said slowly. "She eats first."
"Not in my house," Basira declared, voice rising with anger.
"Well, then allow me to remind you that this is not your house," Shadaf said, sharp with outrage. "Absent as my mother may be, this is her palace, not yours."
"It's fine!" Kathy said quickly, mortified at the thought of causing a fight between them. "I'll wait for Tehar."
"Kathy—" Shadaf started to protest.
"I don't mind," Kathy interrupted him immediately. "Everyone can start without me. Please."
Shadaf looked unhappy with the decision, but he nodded in acceptance. Basira returned to her silence. It was impossible to tell whether she felt this was a victory or a loss, her veil obscuring everything.
With the issue settled, Shadaf was served first and waited until Khalila, Basira, Fairuz and finally Ihab had been served before he started eating. Kathy sat in front of her empty plate and waited.
"I'm sure he'll show up soon," Shadaf reassured her. "He's probably just running late."
Kathy hoped he was right. But she was determined to wait however long it took. This was a challenge from Basira, and she was determined to prove herself. She could wait as long as it took.
An hour later, the family had finished their food and were just lingering over dessert, talking, and Tehar had still not arrived. Kathy still sat, silent, in front of her empty plate. The silence was only partly because she couldn't speak Arabic. She was also so woozy and lightheaded that it was becoming difficult to focus. Ihab and Fairuz excused themselves after a little while, then Khalila stood to help Shadaf back into his waiting wheelchair. He looked at Kathy in concern as he sat down into it.
"You know you can go ahead and eat, right?" he asked her. "Tehar isn't coming. Please, let me order you something fresh from the kitchen."
"No, I'm fine," Kathy said stiffly. Basira was still sitting on the other side of the table, ignoring her plate in favor of nursing a cup of coffee. "I'll wait for Tehar."
"You don't need to do that," Shadaf said with an exasperated sigh. "She isn't—"
"Honey," Khalila said gently, touching her husband's shoulder. They exchanged a brief, meaningful look, and Shadaf gave in with a sigh, wishing Kathy a good night and rolling away.
Kathy stayed where she was, staring down at her plate, her head throbbing with a painful hunger headache. She'd gone longer without food than this before, when a deadline was coming and she’d had to throw herself into her work. Of course, she hadn't been pregnant and severely jetlagged then. But still. She could do this. Basira sat in equal silence, each one pretending the other wasn't there. Silence sat heavy on the dining room, bearing down on Kathy's aching head.
"You know you are proving nothing," Basira said. Kathy was surprised the other woman had broken before her. "You might as well eat. This foolishness will not impress me."
"I'll wait for Tehar," Kathy replied flatly.
Basira banged a fist on the table, making the silverware clatter and Kathy jump.
"Why did you come here?" she asked sharply.
"I'm having your grandchild," Kathy replied obviously.
"That is no grandchild of mine," Basira scoffed. "Just an excuse my son thinks he can make to avoid his duty."
"He only did this to please you," Kathy pointed out. "He didn't want a relationship or children. He just wanted you to let him live his life."
"Oh, I'm sure getting a foreigner pregnant and embarrassing our entire family was a great sacrifice for him," Basira said sarcastically. "Do not make the mistake of thinking you know my son better than I do."
Kathy felt her face flush with mixed anger and embarrassment.
"You're right," she said. "I wish I knew him half as well as you do. I wish I knew anything about your culture or how to make this work. But I do know Tehar and I are having this baby. It's already done, so you might as well accept it and move on."
Basira laughed.
"Do you really think he will go through with this?" she asked. "After the shame you have already brought him with that video? Even if he allows you to have that child, it will never be accepted as a part of this family or made his heir. He will buy you a house somewhere out of the way and pay for you to stay there. You will never be anything but a burden to him and a threat to everything he cares about."
"You're wrong," Kathy snapped, though the words stung like stab wounds.
"Then where is he?" Basira asked, standing up so fast she spilled her coffee. "He has already abandoned you. Accept that."
She stormed out, leaving the dining room ringing with her condemnation. Kathy stared down at the table, trying to contain the anger and despair threatening to overwhelm her. She failed and felt it spill out in hot, angry tears, the only thing on her empty silver plate.
Eventually, she fell asleep or passed out. It was hard to say which. She woke, slumped over the table, when she felt a hand on her shoulder, gently urging her to her feet.
"No," she mumbled tiredly, unable to open her bleary eyes enough to tell who it was. "I'm waiting for Tehar."
"I know," said a familiar voice. "It's all right. I'm here now."
It was all the reassurance she needed. Half asleep, she let him guide her back up to her room and put her in bed. She was too out of it to even say good night before she was asleep again. But when she woke a few hours later, there was a slightly dried out sandwich waiting for her on her bedside table. She devoured it and fell asleep again without thinking too hard about where it had come from.
The next morning, Khalila woke her with breakfast. They ate together at the little table in Kathy's room. Khalila was a surprisingly bright, energetic woman. She reminded Kathy of Tessa in many ways and, by the end of breakfast, Kathy was certain they were going to be good friends.
"When did you give up and go to bed last night?" Khalila asked as Kathy devoured the last of the sweet breakfast buns she'd brought, loaded with raisins and cardamom. "I checked before I went to sleep and you were still in there."
"I don't know," Kathy answered honestly. "I passed out and someone brought me up here. I think it was Tehar."
"I didn't even know he'd come home," Khalila said, surprised. "If it was him, he must have left again before I woke this morning."
Kathy couldn't help the little crush of disappointment she felt at that. But Khalila was quick to reassure her.
"He'll be home soon, I'm certain," she said. "He's just trying to get all of this legal business out of the way so he can spend time with you."
Kathy hoped she was right.
She spent most of the day i
n the conservatory with Khalila and Shadaf. He spent most of his time there, as the air was supposedly good for his weak lungs. He was always either reading or scribbling in a journal.
"It's poetry," he told Kathy when she picked the journal up after he dropped it, surrendering to one of his frequent and abrupt naps. "They're not very good, I'm afraid."
"I'm sure they're great," Kathy said, handing it back to him. She couldn't read the Arabic script he wrote in. "I've never read a lot of poetry, though."
"Khalila is the one who convinced me to start writing," he told her, looking at the journal fondly. Khalila was out of the room at the moment, fetching tea. "Back when we were children. She loves poetry, and I wanted to impress her."
"It seems like you two are really good for each other," Kathy said, a little enviously but not unkindly.
"We weren't always." Shadaf frowned a little at the memory. "We've been betrothed since we were children. They wanted to secure it early, since I wasn't anticipated to live very long and it was an important alliance. Rather unfair to her, as you can imagine, being engaged to a dying man she barely knew, and almost ten years her senior. But her family brought her here often, I think on my father's request, for my sake. At the time, Tehar was the only friend I had close to my own age. But I loved her the minute I saw her and I wanted to win her over more than I'd ever wanted anything."
He paused for a moment, gazing into the distance as if remembering that day.
"I didn't have much practice at wanting things," he said, voice wistful. "I grew up knowing I was going to die, probably soon. Planning for the future, having ambitions, seemed rather pointless. But her… Anything was worth it for Khalila. We were very close all through our childhood. But then she got a little older and they started talking about the actual marriage. I guess she'd been too young to realize what they were planning before. She decided I'd tricked her. She hated her family for forcing it on her. She hated me for wanting it. She was determined to fight it to the bitter end."