by Holly Rayner
Soon, the car pulled up to a gate and, after a brief conversation between the driver and the man in the gatehouse, it opened and they pulled into an estate Kathy wouldn't have hesitated to call palatial. If anything, the word was an understatement. She stared out her window in undisguised awe as they followed a winding drive through acres of elaborate gardens, blooming brilliant green in the midst of the desert.
How much work must they go to, she wondered, how many gardeners, how many gallons of water, to keep all this so green? The main building was massive, at least four stories high. The shape was broad and square like an English palace, but the corners rounded into towers topped with shining domes, the largest of which covered the center of the massive structure. The facade was a glory of Arabian architecture, full of beautiful scalloped arches and glittering golden embellishments. In front of the main house, a gigantic fountain sat in the center of an elaborate mosaic. The car pulled to a stop in front of the fountain, and Tehar offered Kathy a hand out of the car.
A line of black-robed women stood at the top of the stairs leading to the palace doors. Tehar approached them, with Kathy trailing behind a little uncertainly.
"Salam Alaikum," Tehar greeted the women, then turned to Kathy. "This is my mother, Sheikha Basira Al-Kindi, my sister Fairuz, my sister-in-law Ihab, and my cousin Khalila. This is the palace of my aunt, Sheikha Nouha."
Kathy murmured an uncomfortable, “Salam.” The tallest of the women, Sheikha Basira, was looking at Kathy with cold hostility in her eyes.
"Mother, sisters," Tehar said, nodding to his family. "This is Kathy Burgess."
"The woman from the video," Sheikha Basira said sharply.
"Yes," Tehar confirmed.
"You have brought her for the lawyers?" Basira asked. Tehar took a deep breath, steeling himself.
"No," he said. "She is pregnant with my child."
There was an immediate flurry of emotion from Tehar's sisters and cousin, somewhere between excitement and scandal. They spoke over one another in a rush of Arabic, either congratulating or scolding Tehar. It was difficult to tell. Basira was perfectly still and silent. It wasn't hard to tell how she felt about the situation.
"I will prepare her a room," Basira said in chilly, perfect English. She turned away and vanished into the house. After a moment of uncertainty, Fairuz and Ihab followed her, but cousin Khalila lingered.
"Perhaps, while she is getting a room ready, you would like her to meet Shadaf?" Khalila offered. She had a sweet, gentle voice, and seemed young, probably in her twenties.
Tehar glanced at Kathy, considering it.
"I'd like that," Kathy said. "I've heard a lot about him."
"That will be fine," Tehar decided.
Khalila turned, her skirts sweeping the stair, and led them inside.
The palace was even more beautiful inside than out. Every room was enormous and every inch gilded to capacity. They passed through countless golden silk draped arches and white marble staircases curving up into infinity. Beautiful sculptures and fountains, inner courtyards teeming with greenery, golden screens in hypnotic patterns. And every bit of it empty. Wherever Tehar's mother and sisters had gone, they seemed to be the only ones here. She didn't even see servants.
At last, they reached a large courtyard near the edge of the main house. It was even more elaborately gardened than the rest of the palace, and the smell of flowers was sweet and strong. There was a chaise lounge set up among the flowers, draped in soft embroidered pillows and blankets.
A young man was lying across it, his eyes closed and a book open on his chest. He was beautiful, shockingly so, in a way that both resembled Tehar and might have been his mirror opposite. Where the lines of Tehar's face were angular and resolute as a cliffside sculpted by the sea, Shadaf's were delicate and fragile as a shell. He seemed made of wire and glass, golden brown skin so thin it was nearly translucent, or an ancient masterpiece of marble soon to crumble.
His dark hair curled over his brow and mirrored perfect crescents of the dark circles under his eyes. When he opened them, they were green as sea glass. He sat up, stirred by the sound of their approach, and the book slipped off his chest and nearly fell. Tehar darted forward to catch it, chuckling as he pressed it back into his cousin's hands.
There was affection in his eyes so deep it was almost painful. Even on his normally guarded features, Kathy could never have missed it. Shadaf thanked Tehar in Arabic, then turned his eyes to Kathy curiously.
"Who is this, Tehar?" he asked. "Don't tell me you've finally found a girlfriend?"
"This is Kathy Burgess," Tehar answered, then cleared his throat. "The…one I told you about."
"Oh, the one having your baby?" Shadaf asked, putting his book aside. "Are you still doing that?"
"It's actually happening a little ahead of schedule," Kathy said, touching her stomach. Shadaf looked briefly confused, then his eyes widened in understanding.
"Oh," he said. "I didn't know you were doing it the traditional way. Congratulations."
Kathy laughed a little. Tehar looked incredibly embarrassed.
"You're Shadaf, right?" Kathy said, offering a hand to shake. "Tehar talks about you a lot."
"Only good things, I hope?" Shadaf winked, kissing the back of Kathy's fingers.
"Shadaf! Behave yourself!" Khalila slapped Shadaf playfully on the shoulder.
"I see you've met my wife, the beautiful Khalila?" Shadaf said with a small laugh. "It's very nice to meet you Kathy, and welcome to the family."
"I don't know if I'm really part of the family," Kathy said with an awkward smile. "But thank you."
"Nonsense," Shadaf said kindly. "You're having Tehar's baby. The circumstances may be a little strange, but that makes you one of us."
Kathy glanced at Tehar, wondering if he would agree, but Tehar wasn't even looking in their direction. He stared off, watching the birds cling to the wrought iron struts of the conservatory's glass walls, his frown remote and unreadable.
"I don't think Basira will see it that way," Khalila put in instead. "You know she was against this plan in the first place."
Shadaf grimaced.
"True, she did have her heart set on convincing him to marry Fatima Al-Enzi, didn't she?"
"Not Fatima," Khalila corrected. "The other one. The younger one."
"Farah," Tehar replied offhandedly, distracted.
"That's the one," Shadaf confirmed. "Pretty Farah. She wanted to improve the family's standing or something. The Al-Enzi's rule some strategically important island out in the gulf."
"Dar Saila," Khalila provided. "It would have been a good match."
"But Tehar's always been stubborn," Shadaf continued with a laugh. "He wouldn't have it."
"Which is lucky for you!" Khalila smiled at Kathy kindly. Or at least, Kathy thought she was smiling. It was hard to tell behind the veil.
"That remains to be seen," Tehar said. He had pulled out his phone and was frowning down at it seriously. "I need to go. I have to meet with the lawyers today. Please look after her for me."
He said nothing else to Kathy, just hurried out, leaving her behind. Kathy was too surprised by his sudden chilly exit to even call after him.
"Or perhaps not so lucky," Khalila murmured, watching Tehar go. "What's gotten into him?"
"This was never supposed to happen," Kathy answered, feeling the weight of guilt settle in her stomach as she stared at the door he'd just left by, almost willing him to return. "It was supposed to just be business. We got too close and made a mistake. It's ruined my career, it might ruin his too, and now there's this…"
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 th
e 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 place 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 h
ad 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.