by Maya Blake
Would she ever be rid of this feeling? She was tied to one of the most powerful men in the world, and yet she felt...hollow.
‘I seem to have lost you.’ His hard, abrupt observation prised her from her thoughts.
Before she could respond, a knock rapped on the dining-room doors. An instant later, a ping sounded on his phone. He touched the screen as the door opened, and his private secretary strode in.
‘Good morning, Your Highnesses,’ he greeted, bowing low before turning to Zufar. ‘You are needed urgently, sire.’ He didn’t say more, but whatever lay behind his words was enough to make Zufar’s face tighten.
Without further questioning, he rose from the table. ‘I’m afraid I need to start my day earlier than planned. Finish your breakfast. Your aide will be here in half an hour.’
With that, he swept out with all the regal authority and purpose of a true king.
Niesha deflated the moment she was alone. After a few minutes of toying with the fresh fruit on her plate, she rose and went to the window. Outside the sun was blazing. On the palace grounds, the remaining signs of the wedding were being removed. In a few hours, it would be a thing of the past.
Desolation crept closer, wrapping tighter around her.
She realised that somewhere between last night and this morning, she’d let the tiniest grain of hope take root, fooled herself into thinking that the bargain she’d struck with Zufar would immediately go towards filling the yawning hole she’d felt all these years.
But it still gaped as wide as ever.
A throat cleared behind her and she steeled herself not to stiffen.
‘Your Highness?’
She turned. The woman dressed in a sharp skirt suit was tall, statuesque, with kind brown eyes and an easy, deferential smile. ‘My name is Kadira Hamdi and I’m your new aide.’
Niesha had never seen her before but something about her expression eased the knot inside her. For starters, there was none of the judgement in her eyes that she’d witnessed in Halimah’s.
And even though the woman before her was stunningly beautiful, Niesha sensed no malice in her.
She nodded and returned the smile. ‘I’m Niesha...but of course you know that...’ She trailed off, feeling a little out of sorts. She smothered her unsettled emotions. ‘What’s on my agenda this morning?’ she asked brightly.
Kadira stepped forwards, opened a leather-bound folder and ran her finger down a long list of items. ‘We will do as much or as little as you desire, Your Highness, but I suggest we get your honeymoon wardrobe squared away. With your permission, I’ll have the three stylists I have on standby meet with us now?’
Niesha tried to hide her nervous gulp with a smile. ‘That works for me.’
Kadira’s smile widened, before she reached for the phone tucked into her folder. Her fingers flew over the surface for a few seconds. ‘If you’re ready, Your Highness,’ she said with a graceful dip of her head.
Niesha left the dining room, thinking she was headed back to the women’s quarters. But Kadira turned down a different hallway, one that led past many doors and into Zufar’s private suite.
On entering, Niesha realised it was the one that connected the previous Queen’s rooms to Zufar’s, the one he’d suggested she turn into a dressing room or nursery. She barely had the time to take in the fact that the previously fully furnished room was now empty before Kadira was leading her through a narrow hallway into another room.
This one was just off Zufar’s bedroom and was a dressing room similar to his. Within the space large enough to hold an entire new suite, sumptuous sofas had been set up against one wall, with half of the closet space already filled with designer labels and accessories.
‘Whose clothes are these?’ she asked, a little more sharply than intended.
Kadira looked surprised. ‘They’re yours, Your Highness. His Highness instructed your belongings to be moved here this morning.’
Niesha hid her surprise at how quickly Zufar had acted, took a seat, then focused as Kadira continued, ‘The rest of the space will be filled according to the seasons once the designers have made their presentations.’
‘I understand,’ Niesha murmured.
Moments later, the stylists arrived, trailing assistants pushing endless clothes rails.
For the next two hours she was bombarded with choices and suggestions until her head started to throb.
The sheer scale of opulence was staggering, and Niesha was glad she was sitting down. She knew another woman in her shoes would have jumped for joy at being so totally immersed in wealth and privilege but, in that moment, she would have given all of it away for a crumb of her past, because she knew that even dressing in the most luxurious clothes and jewels wouldn’t dull the persistent ache in her heart.
She was about to ask for a reprieve, or a cup of tea, when a sharply voiced command preceded Zufar’s majestic entrance into the room. Everyone stilled for a second, before executing a curtsey, which he acknowledged with a sweep of his hand.
‘Leave us.’ The command was brusque.
The room emptied in seconds. For a full minute he didn’t speak, just paced in a tight, inflexible line that spoke of his military training.
‘Is...is something wrong?’ she asked, after watching his jaw clench a few times.
He stopped abruptly and looked at her. ‘Yes, we’ll have to postpone the honeymoon.’ The tightness behind his words drew unease but it was the way he loosened his tie a moment later that caught her attention.
She’d never seen Zufar even a little bit dishevelled, and that included the moment he had found out his betrothed had disappeared through a window only hours before they had been due to wed. Now she watched as he released the first two buttons of his shirt with an angry flick of his elegant hands.
‘Oh?’
‘Only by a few days, perhaps a week.’
‘May I ask why?’
He exhaled harshly. ‘It seems one scandal in twenty-four hours isn’t enough for my family,’ he said by way of explanation. Ice-cold anger bathed his words and she watched, utterly fascinated, as he clawed a hand through his dark hair, upsetting its usually neat order.
He paced to the end of the room and abruptly reversed course.
Was it something to do with Amira? Unable to stand the suspense, she spoke. ‘Zufar...’
He froze, his eyes meeting hers across the wide space at her use of his name.
Nervous at the intensity of his gaze and the unsettling need to ease his angst, she slicked her tongue over her upper lip and plunged ahead. ‘Can...can I help?’
Surprise flickered over his face even as his gaze lowered to lock on her mouth. After a moment, he lifted his head.
‘I’m being blackmailed,’ he pronounced icily.
She gasped. ‘What? Is it about Amira?’ she forced herself to ask.
He frowned, then his jaw rippled. ‘No. It looks like her choice was definitive. I’ve seen security footage of her leaving the palace, which confirms she went of her own free will. I will no longer be wasting time and attention on her.’
The cold dismissal sent tremors through her, probably because of the quiet fury that lingered in his voice when he spoke of her. Perhaps he wouldn’t take her back but he wasn’t as unaffected as his words suggested.
‘Unfortunately, the new set of issues involves my sister.’
Niesha refocused, and frowned. ‘Princess Galila? What did she do? Is she okay?’
Zufar exhaled another breath full of ire. ‘She’s in the middle of what can politely be termed as a hissy fit. One she’s blindly refusing to admit is the result of her own actions.’ He started pacing again. ‘Apparently, she saw fit to get blind drunk at the wedding reception and let loose a few family secrets to a complete stranger,’ he snarled as he reached the far wall of the dressing room and reversed direction.
‘What secrets?’
Zufar eyed her with narrow-eyed ferocity. About to pre-empt a response to mind her own business, she swallowed her words as he slowly advanced to tower over her. He seemed to be weighing his options. After a moment, his fist unfurled and he lowered his formidable length into the sofa next to her.
‘You’re part of this family now. If this gets out it will be better that you are armed with a response rather than caught off guard.’
It hurt a little to know the only reason he was confiding in her was because he didn’t trust her to react properly in public.
But then she reminded herself that she was barely twenty-four hours into this marriage. To Zufar al Khalia she was little more than a stranger thrust into his life by exceptional circumstances.
Niesha composed a nod, her spine straightening as she returned his gaze. ‘Very well.’
She waited.
For several heartbeats he assessed her. Then, ‘She revealed that our mother had an affair with Sheikh Karim’s father over three decades ago.’ He took a deep, hissing breath. ‘That the affair bore a son. The same son who took Amira yesterday. So Karim not only knows my family’s secrets, but he’s been made aware of the existence of his half-brother.’
Niesha’s jaw dropped, then her heart dropped lower. ‘What?’
He didn’t respond, letting the shock waves sink in.
She wasn’t aware how protectively she’d held the bubble of a happy-ever-after dream until Zufar callously burst it with his words. The royal family she’d spun her teenage dreams around was nothing more than a broken façade.
But...it was a façade that was affording her a glimpse of the not quite perfect humanity behind the thick veil.
Like her...
Niesha wasn’t certain why that thought settled deep inside her. Surely she wasn’t comparing herself to them? Her past was broken too, and had plenty of missing chunks. And yet she couldn’t dismiss that seed of kinship taking root inside her.
‘So your half-brother stole your fiancée?’ she murmured, shocked.
Anger darkened his eyes, right before a low, bitter laugh emitted from his throat. ‘Because he believes my position in this family should be his.’
‘That’s what the note meant by birthright?’ Was that why Zufar had wanted to win the skirmish yesterday at all costs? The thought drew another cold tremor through her.
‘Yes. And I believe it was a move I neatly countered and even bettered,’ he said with throbbing satisfaction, confirming her suspicion.
Had she, and to some extent Amira, been perfect pawns in their game? Niesha was thankful that too many emotions swirled through her for the statement to pierce any harder. Instead she focused on the reason behind his initial anger. ‘So what does this blackmailer want? Money?’
Zufar’s head went back as if the reminder greatly vexed him. Which it did, if the harsh breath he expelled was an indication. ‘Would that it were so. Sheikh Karim of Zyria has enough of that for it not to be his goal. He’s after something else entirely.’
Niesha swallowed a gasp. The kingdom of Zyria was Khalia’s direct neighbour, with shared borders and a long history of shared traditions. The magnitude of Zufar’s mother’s betrayal expanded in Niesha’s mind. A few things began to make sense, like the haggard pain she’d glimpsed in King Tariq’s face over the years.
‘Your father knew, didn’t he?’ she asked.
After a moment, Zufar nodded. ‘Yes.’
The confirmation only further shattered her rose-coloured glasses. But on the flip side, she felt a little closer to Zufar even though she knew such a feeling would only ever be one-sided.
‘So if Sheikh Karim doesn’t want money, what does he want?’
Zufar’s jaw clenched tight until the vibrating muscle turned white. ‘He wants my sister’s hand in marriage. Immediately.’
Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘And are you going to give your blessing?’
He shrugged. ‘I have limited options. Scandal must be avoided at all costs. At least if they pull it off, my people will be happy. Two weddings within weeks of one another? Anyone would think heaven itself was smiling down on us,’ he mocked bitterly.
Her heart twisted, but she clung to her composure. ‘And will Galila agree?’
‘She will if she wants what’s best for the family,’ he said curtly.
Silence descended, and then she cleared her throat. ‘Can I do anything?’
Again he seemed surprised by her offer. One corner of his mouth lifted, but any trace of mirth was wiped clean an instant later. ‘A guarantee that I’ll have peace for at least twenty-four hours would be greatly welcome,’ he breathed.
This close, his scent wrapped around her, triggering a yearning to move closer, to feel the heat of his skin against hers. Then she reminded herself exactly why he’d woken her this morning and her spine stiffened.
‘I can guarantee that I won’t be the cause of any unwelcome distraction in that time.’
A strange expression crossed his face before he abruptly stood up, did up his buttons and straightened his tie. When he was done, it was almost as if the brief glimpse behind the wall of royal duty hadn’t happened.
Niesha wasn’t sure whether to be thrilled or terrified that she’d seen the man behind the mask. And she didn’t want to examine why. She watched him stride to the door, and then, unable to stop herself, she followed. ‘Zufar?’
He stiffened. Then turned, one eyebrow raised.
‘What are you going to do about...your brother?’
A fierce light blazed in his eyes. Then it was gone. ‘He intended to disrupt my kingdom with his actions. When the time is right, he’ll be dealt with appropriately.’
Meaning what? Revenge? Punishment?
‘I will see you tonight.’
He left her shivering where she stood, fairly certain she wouldn’t be able to withstand another bombshell.
Infidelity. Betrayal. Revenge. Was this what being an al Khalia was like? To think she’d rhapsodised about and envied them once upon a time!
She was still rubbing her hands down her chilled arms when Kadira knocked and entered.
Moments later they were back to discussing her wardrobe for her now postponed honeymoon.
And then it was time to choose from the list of tutors who would lecture her through her child psychology course.
One filled her with dread. The other with a quiet joy.
Niesha took a deep breath and vowed to cling onto the latter with everything she had.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE ONE WEEK Zufar had accommodated to broker his sister’s marriage while juggling his duties before leaving on his honeymoon turned into two.
It could’ve been because he received a summons from his father, which he kept postponing simply because he didn’t wish to deal with Tariq. Their last meeting had ended with stiff, cold words that still rankled, and the simple truth was Zufar didn’t know whether he would ever forgive his father for abdicating.
But his sister’s sudden impending marriage needed explanation and whether he liked it or not his father was owed one.
Today was the day he’d made the trip to see Tariq. As he’d suspected, it hadn’t been an easy one. Probably because his father hadn’t once asked about state affairs or even about Zufar himself. He wore his grief like a cloak and looked even more shrunken than he’d been the last time Zufar had seen him. Or perhaps Zufar’s unease was because, despite everything, a small part of him regretted cutting his father out of his wedding. He told himself he’d done it for a good reason—to keep the atmosphere stress-free and his citizens happy on his wedding day.
Out of sight out of mind, after all.
The pat statement rang hollow inside him, driving him from his desk and into a restless pacing of his office. King Tariq might have taken his absence
from his son’s wedding with pained stoicism but he’d taken the news of Galila’s marriage to Sheikh Karim worse. The reminder that his father had once upon a time doted on Galila had further unsettled Zufar. It occurred to him that now his mother was dead, perhaps his father would want to reconnect with the children he’d disregarded for so long.
Zufar hardened his heart against the strange yearning triggered by that notion. There was no room for sentiment. His father had chosen his path, his actions forcing Zufar to choose his.
With the smooth running of the kingdom his priority, he had no space to accommodate might-have-beens.
What was done was done. And for the first time in for ever he had a moment’s peace. Even Galila had finally accepted the consequences of her actions.
Zufar didn’t know whether to succumb to the silly tradition of touching wood or raise a glass of cognac in honour of that rare peace. As to whether it would last was a debate he wasn’t prepared to enter into right in this moment.
He arrived at the window overlooking the rose garden that had once belonged to his mother, and he clenched his teeth as the peace threatened to evaporate.
Many times, he’d toyed with having the rose bushes uprooted.
But he’d kept it as a reminder that loyalty and dedication to duty were far more valuable than the false love his mother had claimed to have for him in front of strangers, and the icy indifference she’d shown to him and his siblings behind closed doors. As for the man who’d occupied this office and this throne before him? Tariq al Khalia had been so locked in his obsession he’d failed to see his children, had forgiven his wife’s infidelity, even going as far as to hide the full consequences of her actions right up until the past had crash-landed into their lives in the form of Adir and almost destroyed everything in its path. Until any hope of keeping this family together in the wake of his mother’s death was gone for ever.