Hajar's Hidden Legacy

by Maisey Yates

  He pulled away from her. Katharine was relieved to see that the crowd had dispersed, thanks in part of Taj and Ahmed and their ham-handed style of security, she imagined.

  “I’m fine,” she said.

  “Get in the car,” he said tightly.

  She nodded once, moving ahead of him. She kept her head down, ignoring the stares and the conversation in languages she didn’t understand.

  “No,” he said. “My car.”

  She turned and looked in the direction Zahir was focused on. The sleek black car was identical to the other one, part of the royal fleet, she imagined. “You didn’t drive, did you? Because you shouldn’t drive.”

  He shot her a hard look. “I do not drive anymore. I should think the reason for that is quite obvious.”

  He jerked the back door open and she slid inside. He rounded the other side and sat next to her, his posture stiff. The driver pulled onto the road and turned back in the direction of the palace.

  Katharine’s heart was hammering hard, her hands shaking. Her entire body shaking, from the inside out. From the surge of adrenaline brought on by the whole situation, and from Zahir’s nearness.

  Silence filled the space between them. She waited as long as she could before all of the questions swirling in her mind had to escape her mouth.

  “How often does it happen?” she asked.

  He turned his head to look at her. “Much less frequently than it used to.”

  “It happened in your office last week.”

  He pushed his hand through his hair, a slight tremble visible to her, making her feel like she should look away. To let him regain his pride. To let him have back what he’d lost in that true, unguarded moment. But she couldn’t.

  “A short one.” He didn’t want to talk about it, she could see that. It was written in every tense line of muscle in his body. And yet she had to ask. She had to know.

  “Are they … flashbacks?”

  “It’s the crowd,” he said, his voice tight. “I saw … I thought you were in danger.” He flexed his fingers before curling them back into a fist. “I’m not insane,” he ground out.

  “I know. I never thought you were.” She played the moment over again, his eyes, his face, the true, deep fear in them. It had been real to him, what he had felt and seen. It hadn’t been an overreaction or overprotection. It had been bone deep for him. “I … Is it posttraumatic stress? I’ve volunteered at a lot of hospitals in Austrich. Seen people who have been in accidents. It’s common when someone has gone through something like you did.”

  He turned, angled away from her, his eyes on the passing scenery. “It probably is.”

  “Haven’t you seen anyone?”

  “They gave me medication to help me sleep. That’s all.”

  She swallowed. “You don’t take it, do you?”

  He let out a short laugh. “Already you know me better than my doctors. No, I don’t take it.”

  “Do you sleep?”

  The corner of his lip curved up. “No.”

  “Maybe you should take … “

  “No. Drugs to suppress it. To make me tired. What does that fix? Nothing. It just masks it. Another thing to control me when I … I should … I don’t want this. I don’t want to be affected by it,” he said, his voice harsh.

  She wanted to offer comfort, to touch him, and yet, she knew he would reject it. Reject her. “But you are.”

  “It’s gotten better.”

  “That was not better.”

  He snorted. “Sure it was. You should have seen me at first. Ask Amarah how it was.”

  Her chest felt tight and she almost didn’t want to ask the question. But she had to. “Who’s Amarah?”

  “She was my fiancée. She was there when I woke up, by my bedside. For all of five minutes before she turned and ran from the room. She came back, of course. She tried, for two days she tried, to deal with me, to help the doctors. But I would … I would black out. Or have a flashback and I was … unpredictable.”

  Katharine put her hand to her stomach, trying to calm the wave of nausea that washed through her. “Did you hurt her?”

  He shook his head. “Never. I was trying to protect her but … how safe did you feel just now?” He laughed, a dark, humorless sound.

  Katharine could see how Zahir might be frightening in that circumstance, but she had only been scared for him, not of him. She’d known, from the moment he’d pressed her up against the wall, that he was putting himself between her and whatever danger he thought was there.

  That he’d been putting himself in harm’s way. For her.

  “Yes.” It was honest, absolutely. “I felt safe with you.”

  He swallowed, his Adam’s apple moving up and down. “Well, she didn’t. And can you blame her? I didn’t hurt her any of the times it happened. But if I lost too much of myself? If she were there during a night terror? When I imagined there were enemies all around? What would I have done to her then? Amarah was smart to leave.”

  Katharine didn’t want to ask her next question either. “Do you miss her?”

  He turned away from her. “I don’t feel anything for her. About her.” He looked back at her, his expression stoic, and she could see, from the flat look in his dark eyes, that it was true. He’d said he didn’t feel love anymore. He didn’t seem to regret the loss of it, either.

  “Don’t leave again,” he said. “Not without telling me.”

  “I’ll try to keep you in the loop, Zahir, but I couldn’t find you. And I’m not a prisoner. Anyway, Kahlah knew and I had security with me. I know that doesn’t keep you safe, not completely, but it’s the best I can do. And I’m used to moving around freely.”

  “And now the entire country will know.”

  “That you were concerned for my safety,” she said. “Nothing more. The truth of the matter is between us. Although, I think if people knew … I think they would understand.”

  “Some would,” he said. “But here … there is a mix of old and new thought. Those out in the tribes, the bedouin … There are already rumors amongst the more traditional people that it was not Zahir who rose from the attacks, but the devil who now possesses him. I’m sure some of the people in the market believe it now. Or at least believe their Sheikh is insane, that my position as leader reflects a certain … weakness.”

  “Then we will show them otherwise.”

  “Katharine … “

  “Why not, Zahir? Why not? You’re going to have to handle the wedding.”

  “I will handle it,” he said, his voice hard. “I am not a child.”

  “I know you aren’t. I don’t doubt your strength, not for one moment, and that’s why I believe that you can take this and defeat it.”

  “As if I haven’t tried?”

  “You stay alone. Your solution has been ignoring it, and we found out today that doesn’t work.”

  “It has. It did before you.”

  “But I’m here now.” And part of her was sorry she was. Sorry she had burst into the order that Zahir had created for himself. Sorry for what she had done to his pride. He was strength, he embodied it, exuded it. Even in the moment when he’d been in the flashback, he had been bravery and honor, working to protect her above himself.

  And she had exposed him to ridicule and shame.

  “Yes, you are.”

  “What happened that day, Zahir?”

  He tightened his jaw, then relaxed it, tendons in his neck shifting with the motion. “Read the articles about it.”

  “I have read the articles about it. I went to the funeral for your family, but I want you to tell me.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t remember all of it and I can’t … I can’t remember it without seeing it. Like that. Like it was out there. I can’t just remember it. I have to live it. Again and again.”

  The thought of that, of reliving that hell, made her feel cold all over. “All right. You don’t have to tell me. But we can work on you going out.”

  �
��I’ve been out. I go to functions when my duty dictates I must.”

  Zahir fought against the rising rage that was filling him, threatening to drown him. To be seen in such a way … it was weakness beyond what was acceptable. He despised it. Despised that it lived in him. That it could overtake him.

  That she had seen him that way. At his most vulnerable. That there was vulnerability in him … He had let his guard down. When he’d discovered her gone, when he’d found out where she went … Adrenaline had taken over, and from there it had broken down. The thin veil between the present and past rent, allowing the past to flood in.

  Terror, pure and real, had filled him, and Katharine had been all he could see. Save her. Save her. It had pounded through him like a drumbeat, a constant directive, drowning out the terror, any concern for himself. It had been about her.

  And then he’d seen her face, heard her voice, and the flood had receded.

  “But the wedding will be more than that and … we need to go to Austrich. To be officially blessed in the Orthodox church. If not then we will not be legally married in the eyes of the people. Custom dictates it and my father has reminded me that it was a part of the original agreement.”

  The demand that it be altered was on the tip of his tongue and yet he could not bring himself to issue it. To do so would be to admit defeat. No one had asked him to do more than what he had been doing for the past five years. Everyone had been content to leave the Beast of Hajar in his cave, to wallow in his misery.

  So long as the economy kept moving, nobody cared. And they didn’t have to face the shame of a damaged ruler. Half of the people imagined him blessed by God. The others imagined him to be a demon. Most days he imagined the latter half was closer to the truth.

  No one had challenged him … except for Katharine. She’d walked in challenging him and hadn’t stopped since. His pride wouldn’t allow him to turn her down. His pride also wouldn’t allow him to go before a crowd of people and … lose himself like that.

  The flashbacks were like waking nightmares. His subconscious taking control and forcing him to watch what he’d already experienced. He was still there, but the pictures in his mind … the memories … they made him feel what he’d felt that day. The acrid taste of panic on his tongue, the knowledge that he was powerless. The horrible, debilitating helplessness.

  It took him right back to the worst moments of his life and forced him to not simply remember them, but to relive them.

  The simplest thing had been to avoid anything and everything that might trigger the flashbacks. They had been hard to predict at first. A noise that was too loud, the scent of sulfur from a lit match, could all send him back down into hell. So it had been better if he simply stayed in the palace.

  Even now that they had grown so few and far between, they weren’t triggered by the obvious.

  “It’s the crowd,” he said. He hated talking about it, liked explaining it even less, but it was preferable to her thinking he was crazy. “It’s the last thing I truly remember of that day. We were driving through the city. It was a parade, a national celebration. So many people were there.

  “And I noticed there was a crowd around the car … I thought they were just citizens but … there’s always a barricade. By the time I realized it … “

  He had to stop there. Had to. Because if he went too far into what had happened next, if he forced himself to remember, he would have to relive it. It was the way it worked.

  “You couldn’t have done anything different.”

  Such a tired refrain. One he had heard from every doctor, every visitor. He believed it no more from her than from any of them. “I could have died instead. Malik could have lived. It would have been better.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  KATHARINE let Zahir retreat to his quarters. Not that anyone really let Zahir do anything. He did what he pleased and he didn’t seem to care what anyone thought. Least of all her.

  Except for when it came to the flashbacks.

  Her heart squeezed when she remembered that moment when he’d looked so frightened, so lost. How he had protected her, his instinct to save her, even through that fear. He had placed himself between her and the world, and it had been instinct.

  I could have died instead.

  He hadn’t spoken those words like a man looking for sympathy, or one out to shock. It had been steady, matter-of-fact. And that’s what had made it truly frightening. Because it was obvious he had thought them before. Obvious that he believed them.

  Things had moved on in her life. Austrich had changed, she had taken on new projects, found different ways she could serve. But in Hajar, time seemed to have stood still.

  And Zahir with it.

  No, maybe that wasn’t true. He had changed. He had grown so dark, so bitter. Lost in his own personal hell, and no one had come to retrieve him from it.

  A sharp twinge of anger stabbed her in the chest. She couldn’t fathom how his fiancée could leave him like she had. She would have stayed with Malik, and she hadn’t even loved him. Because she’d made a promise. And promises mattered, commitment and honor mattered. At least to her they did.

  What would have happened if Amarah had stayed? Well, Zahir might not have Amarah, but he had her. And she had given her word to him now that she would be his wife. And even if she was a temporary wife, she would do whatever it took to be there for him. To build a strong union. They needed it for their countries.

  Katharine made her way toward Zahir’s quarters, her footsteps too loud in the empty corridor. It was late, and the staff was gone, which added to the cavernous feeling the palace possessed. It didn’t escape her that she was always the one looking for him. That he had only come to her room once, and that was to tell her to leave.

  But the distance between them didn’t seem right. Not when they were supposed to be working together. It especially didn’t seem right after today.

  She pushed open the door and found the gym area vacant, which she’d expected. She walked through, brushing her fingers along one of the exercise machines as she did. His body was strong, he worked at it, intensely. To show no weakness.

  She’d forced him to show weakness twice in the same week.

  The thought made her feel sick.

  There was a short corridor in between the gym and Zahir’s room. His room was empty too, not just of him, but of almost anything. There was a bed in the corner, a large armoire and very little else.

  There was a chin-up bar in the doorway that led outside into the courtyard. Something else physical for him to do. He seemed to need the outlet.

  She looked at the bed, pillows pushed to the side, the bedspread and sheets tangled. He had been here. And he hadn’t been able to sleep. He’d said he couldn’t sleep. She felt the twinge in her chest again.

  She walked across the room and bent over the bed, tugging the bedding into place and arranging the pillows again. It was an idle thing to do, something to keep her hands busy while she decided what to do next. But it was her way of trying to put something in his life back together. Since she’d come in guns blazing and torn it apart.

  It was torn apart already. You did what you had to do. And anyway, it isn’t as though you forced him.

  No. He’d agreed. Because it was the right thing to do. Because duty was important, honor. It mattered. It had to, otherwise her whole life had been geared toward … nothing. It was the only thing she knew how to do. The only thing that gave her purpose.

  “What are you doing?”

  Katharine turned sharply and saw Zahir standing in the doorway that led outside, his chest bare and glistening with a light sheen of sweat in the pale moonlight.

  “I just came to … “

  “You cannot leave me alone, can you, Katharine?” The words were torn from him, a desperation laced through them that shocked and frightened her.

  “How can I? After what you said?” she asked, her pulse pounding in her temples, making her feel dizzy.

  “Easily. Leave m
e be as everyone else has done for the past five years. I agreed to a marriage on paper only because I wanted to ignore you as much as humanly possible.” He growled the words, rough sounding and feral, the rage behind them barely leashed.

  “Why did you agree to it at all?”

  “Because it is best for my people. I may not be able to go out in a crowd of them, but that doesn’t lessen my responsibility here.”

  “I … I’m sorry about today.”

  He moved into the room, his body taking up an amazing amount of space in the cavernous surroundings. “You’re sorry about today, sorry about the table. Is that what you’re here for? To show me just how sorry you are?”

  He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. He leaned in, his lips skimming the curve of her neck. Katharine felt her legs start to shake, not from fear, from something else. From the attraction that had assaulted her off and on from the moment she’d seen him in his office.

  Even now. With all of his rage directed at her, she felt something else vibrating between them. Something even more powerful.

  “Have you come to show me how sorry you are with that beautiful body of yours?” he whispered the words, his lips touching her earlobe lightly, a slight tremor in his fingers. “How appropriate. A virgin sacrifice to appease the Beast.” He flexed his hand, fingers spreading wide on her waist, his thumb brushing the underside of her breast. Her breath caught in her throat. She wanted him to let her go. And she wanted him to pull her tightly into his body.

  He stayed like that, his face so close to hers, his breath feathering against her cheek, hot and intimate. He slid his finger over the line of her jaw, the gesture so gentle and subtle, at odds with the rage vibrating from him. Rage was the surface emotion, but when she looked in his eyes, she saw something else. Need. So raw and real it was a palpable force.

  He dropped his arm from her waist, pulling back sharply, the sudden shock of cold as the distance widened between them making goose bumps break out on her arms.

  “I don’t need your pity,” he spat, taking another step back.

  Anger boiled in Katharine’s stomach, anger and unsatisfied desire, and she had no idea what business either of them had existing beside the other. Although, it seemed it was the same for Zahir. That, at least, provided its own satisfaction.