The Torn Prince

by Zee Monodee

  The cinema room on the lower ground floor sounded perfect.

  But he should first make sure Rio didn’t fall headfirst into a panic when she woke up and didn’t see the baby in the nursery or anywhere on the upper floors. He went into the kitchen with soft steps, where he wrote a note about their location on a paper pad near the wall. Then he tore the sheet and placed it on her bedside table in the uppermost bedroom suite.

  “Okay, Nour. It’s us men against the world now,” he said as they went back downstairs and then one level below.

  The first door he opened was the wrong one since it led inside the home gym, where half of the space had been set up as a dance studio with polished wood floors and mirrors along a whole wall. Rio had surely had these put in after she’d bought the place given how most people would not need such a space in their houses.

  She really had done well for herself and entirely on her own. Respect for her swelled in his chest, as did the love he had for her. She was exceptional. Phenomenal. And if she’d allow it, his.

  Based on what had happened last night, he would say he was on the right track to make it happen, but he would never rest on his laurels. Rio deserved so much more than what he could ever give her, and for the rest of his life, he would happily pay this penance.

  The next door proved the right one, the home cinema. The still air inside the room told him it was hardly used. Rio preferred to binge-watch things from her own bedroom, and Oksana loved to lose herself in a book rather than a movie screen, from what he’d gathered.

  The plush grey velvet seats beckoned. After closing the door behind him, he made sure the air conditioning and thermostat were on the correct settings for Nour. He settled down in one of the soft couches that turned out to be individual recliners. Parking Nour on his lap, he powered on the tablet.

  Greedy little fingers tried to wrangle the device from his grip. The baby looked like he’d start bawling out his frustration at being denied. Zediah thankfully managed to access the app he’d recently discovered and which allowed him to have a mixing table and digital synthesizer at his disposal right on one screen.

  He set it to piano mode and hit the notes. Nour went still as the sounds erupted, attention rapt on the screen. Zediah kept on playing, and the baby began babbling as the strings started to resemble music.

  When they’d gotten a rhythm going, Zediah added the synthesiser's controls on top, the notes now making different sounds that felt weird at first but merged into the other when the proper sequence happened.

  They were hitting a false note when Nour lunged towards the tablet and slammed a hand on it. Immediately, the sound changed, suddenly harmonious.

  A stunned Zediah peered down at his son. He’d been stuck on getting past this iffy tinge, his musical ear not able to work around it, and here this little bundle had seemed to instinctively know what to press to make it right. Okay, it had been more luck than anything, but there just might be a chance his son was gifted for music, too.

  So he started a note, then played an off one on purpose next. Nour looked at him like he should quit fooling around. When he played the right sound, the child would squeal and try to hit the tablet again. Zediah let him a few times, their song finding a tune. Nour talked along in his baby language, and when Zediah laughed, he would laugh, too.

  Then the mumbles coming from his son changed, becoming more distinct. Zediah paused and listened, and his heart hollowed out as he realized what he was hearing.

  “Dada,” Nour was saying while looking right up into his face with those big hazel-brown eyes.

  Zediah blinked. “Yes, I’m your dad.”

  “Dada,” the baby replied, as if adding a ‘duh, that’s exactly what I’m saying’ at the end.

  This. This was his perfect life. He wouldn’t let it slip from his grasp for anything. Not even his family. This place here, with these people, was where he belonged.

  The events of the day all conspired to reinforce this for him. Rio waking up and coming down to find them in the cinema room, where they were still making music.

  Feeding their son his puree, which ended up more like bombing the kitchen with the sludge than anything. Their walk, all three of them in Cadogan Square later in the afternoon.

  Watching a SpongeBob movie in the main bedroom suite, all of them transfixed as the krabby patty formula got stolen. This turned Bikini Bottom into a post-apocalyptic, Mad Max-type landscape, and Oksana walking in right then.

  “Sa!” Nour screamed in a happy greeting.

  “What happened?” Rio asked. “You weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow.”

  Oksana flounced down on the rug and cuddled a wriggling Nour. “Glen is a pothead. And his feet stink!”

  The rant went on, the movie kept on playing, the women in the room busy sympathizing with the other, Nour trying to eat someone’s—anyone’s—hair …

  This was perfection. The ordinary made extraordinary because love tinged every molecule of the moment.

  Zediah had indeed found his happy place here, now. No way would he ever relinquish it.

  ***

  His phone rang on Thursday evening, from one of the few numbers he hadn’t blocked. Nick had returned to the UK the previous Monday, and Zediah had moved out of his place the same day to come settle in the Clabon Mews residence. Had he forgotten something in his bestie’s guest room?

  “Hey, Nick,” he answered with a smile on his face.

  His best friend would no doubt rub it in his face how he had become pussy-whipped. But he knew Nick meant it in jest, that he was, in fact, happy for him, even though he had yet to meet Rio and Nour. They had something on the cards for the weekend, hopefully.

  “Your twin’s looking for you,” Nick shot back without preamble.

  All the blood inside Zediah’s body froze, and he found just enough insight to remove himself from the recording studio and go into the hallway outside.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He called here, thought you were staying at my place. I didn’t correct him. Be on the lookout, though.”

  “Okay. Thanks, mate.”

  He cut the call and pressed his back against the wood-panelled wall. He hadn’t rung home since the past weekend. A quick text to Isha to let her know he was okay and would reach out when he could and she should not worry, but otherwise, radio silence with Bagumi.

  His peace had lasted five days. Five meagre, paltry days. Damn it! Would there ever be any letting up from his family? Not unless he shook things up. And it’s exactly what he planned to do.

  He’d had perfect days here since Sunday. Waking up beside Rio after loving her last night. Getting to spend an hour with his son every morning before leaving for the studio and taking Jalil under his wing again felt like the most normal thing. He’d rediscovered his knack for making tracks. Then going back home to his woman and kid at night, to listen raptly to how their day had gone.

  Was it too much to ask, to wish his life went on in such a steady stream?

  After throwing quick goodbyes to the lot in the studio, he took a cab to Knightsbridge. He found Oksana feeding Nour his dinner in the kitchen. The lingering smell of vanilla and cookie dough told him it was the biscuity rusk the baby absolutely adored and ate without a fuss.

  Guess kids the world over were born with a penchant for confectionary and an aversion to broccoli. He still had a healthy dislike for the cruciferous, having no idea how—or better yet why—Rio chose to eat platefuls of the green stuff a few times a week.

  He ditched his coat and had a chat with his son as the nanny cleared the kitchen.

  The doorbell rang. He’d ordered pizza on the way over. He’d need all plus points on his side when he sat down with Rio and told her he needed to go back to Bagumi if only to clear the air with his family and make his position known.

  It would break her heart to see him leaving again, but he’d promised himself he would be back by Sunday. Not a morning or afternoon would go by without him ringing her to g
ive her a status update. Going forward, she would know everything happening in his life. He owed her that.

  The early December air had turned frigid, and he wouldn’t expose the baby to such temps. Come to think of it. It might be time to put another door inside the front hallway, turning the entrance into a sort of porch slash mudroom. The interior panel would keep the rest of the house toasty. Strange how Rio hadn’t already thought of it.

  He went to the front door with a few long steps and pulled it open and turned to stone.

  His twin, Zareb, looked like he had a whole forest up his arse with the way he stood there stock-still. His dark eyes scanned the length of Zediah as if he were looking at something testing his patience.

  “Brother,” Zareb intoned.

  Zediah took a deep, sharp inhale. “What are you doing here?”

  Zareb shrugged. “No one was able to get in touch with you.”

  His eyebrows rose. “So they sent a search party? Namely, you?”

  Another shrug in reply.

  “What do you want?”

  “You’re needed back home.”

  Like hell he was. “Not happening.”

  A sigh tore through the air. “Zed, don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

  He drew to his full height and crossed his arms in front of his chest. See if he would give in to this little mind game.

  But then something else registered. Keeping the door open like this would drive the cold inside, and this could hurt Nour. And staying here to have an argument on the stoop just wasn’t done—who knew if someone put the pieces together and realized they were two Bagumi princes having a heated tiff? It had been drilled inside all of them to avoid any kind of public exposure.

  So Zediah found himself with no other choice but to invite his sibling inside. True, it was Rio’s place and not his, but he’d pack up this inconvenience soon enough and have him on his un-merry way back to Bagumi.

  Zareb had the decency to wait for him to close the door and start inside, following in his wake and not barging in already. The eyebrows on the other man’s face rose when his gaze encountered Oksana standing there in the kitchen with Nour in her arms.

  His brother would, however, know this was not his baby’s mother. As head of palace security, there was truly little about family dealings Zareb didn’t know about. Oksana was staring at him all agog, and Zediah sighed while he rolled his eyes. His brothers were always having this kind of effect on women.

  “Zareb, this is Nour, my son, and Oksana, his nanny.” He then turned to the young woman. “This is my brother.”

  The blonde blinked. “Wow, you two sure come from a fantastic gene pool.”

  Was a smile twitching at the corners of Zareb’s lips?

  Zediah nodded at the baby. “Would you mind …?”

  “Oh.” She seemed to snap out of a spell. “Sure. We’ll be up in the nursery. Nour needs a bath, then it’s bedtime.”

  The two men waited for her to leave before turning to face each other again.

  Zareb waved to the lounge set in the room in front of the lit fireplace. “May I?”

  “No.” He would not make this easy for his twin.

  An eyebrow cocked, but Zareb didn’t protest.

  “Why are you here?” Zediah again asked, his patience going a bit rough at the edges. Rio would be home any minute—he needed the man gone before she returned.

  “Have you been living under a rock or what?”

  “Or what,” he quipped without humour.

  Zareb sighed. “It’s all over the palace, Zed.”

  “What is?” A sense of unease had been steadily building inside him, and the feeling had grown close to culmination now.

  “Bilkiss.”

  He frowned upon hearing the name. “What’s she been up to?”

  Zareb gave a snort. “What hasn’t she been up to, you mean. Yesterday, a security crew sweeping the Bordmer estate found her hiding inside one of the remote guest cottages.”

  “What would she be doing there?” This didn’t make any sense.

  “And that’s not even the half of it. Turns out she’d been hiding in the cottage foremost on the beach since Tuesday after her father had a fatwa issued against her.”

  Zediah’s mouth was hanging open by now. “A fatwa? Whatever for?”

  Zareb sighed. “Officially for coming out as a lesbian, and on the down-low for fomenting a rebellion against his government. Take your pick.”

  Bloody hell. Surprised didn’t even start to cover his reaction to these two snippets of information.

  Though the first one did make sense, somewhat—she had, after all, been terribly reluctant to set a date for their wedding. She’d mentioned on the phone she’d been waiting for a sign and cancelling the arranged marriage had been it. Made sense if she was gay and couldn’t stomach being wedded to a man she couldn’t ever love.

  But the second bit had him shaking his head in disbelief. He was still reeling when the front door opened, and Rio came in. She stopped on the threshold of the main reception area, a puzzled expression on her face. Her gaze went from Zediah to Zareb and back again.

  “Rio,” he said as he straightened and went to her.

  “Hey,” she replied, her tone cautious. “Who’s our visitor?”

  It warmed his heart to hear her use ‘our’ and thus include him in. He reached her side and placed an arm around her shoulders. Drawing her close, he wanted to protect her from what would come next, from the very presence of his sibling, representing his family, in the room.

  “This is Zareb,” he told her. “My twin.”

  She glanced up at him with a frown. One would expect meeting the family would involve warmer greetings and possibly a shake of hands, if not a kiss to the cheek already. But none of that for them. She seemed to know this was not a social call. He could feel it in the way she tensed next to him.

  “Lovely to meet you, Zareb,” she said with a polite nod.

  His brother returned the nod. “Likewise.”

  A man of a few words, except when he needed to can it and not cause further mayhem.

  “Zed, your betrothal will be announced this Saturday. The king and queen need you back home right away.”

  Like now. He simply did not know when and how to shut his trap, did he?

  Against him, Rio went absolutely still. Her face took on a stricken expression, and then before he could do or say anything, she had mumbled her excuses and rushed away, up the stairs in a jog.

  Zediah was left suddenly feeling cold and bereft. And amid all the ice, cold fury brewed, and he turned this all-consuming emotion onto his little brother.

  “Seriously?” he spat. “That’s how you had to play it?”

  The soft shrug from Zareb further incensed him. But he had bigger fish to fry, namely calming Rio down and sorting out the truth for her.

  “Just piss off, will you?” he threw at his twin before rushing up the stairs in Rio’s wake.

  He found her in the main bedroom, outside on the small terrace that must feel like a frozen tundra, what with this winter weather. She didn’t even have a coat on.

  “Rio,” he called out. She didn’t turn around. From the stiff set of her shoulders, he hoped she wasn’t crying. “Babe, please come inside.”

  “Whatever for?” she muttered in reply.

  His insides crushed onto themselves. He did not like her defeated tone at all.

  Reaching for her hand, he wrapped her cold digits in his palm and softly dragged her back inside, closing the sliding doors behind her. The tip of her nose had already gone red. He hoped it wasn’t frostbite.

  “Rio, listen to me.”

  A sigh tore out of her. “I thought we’d said the whole truth and nothing but, Switz. No more secrets.”

  “I have no secrets for you,” he reassured her with his palms still trying to warm her cold hand. He reached for the other hand and rubbed it in his grip, too.

  “You’re engaged?”

  Dam
n. He’d always known this would come back to bite him in the arse. “No. I was betrothed, though.”

  She blinked. “What’s the difference?”

  “Engaged is when you propose to someone.” Like I’m hoping and planning to do with you once we’ve hit cruising speed a bit more. “Betrothed is when you’re paired with someone in an arranged match.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Royal families still resort to arranged matches? In this day and age?”

  True enough, when one looked at William and Harry from England, Felipe of Spain, and Victoria and Carl Philip of Sweden, it would seem love always won over antiquated political dealings. Guess Bagumi had some catching up to do in that regard, though his sisters had started clearing the path already.

  He took a deep breath and faced her.

  “Listen to me. Her name is Bilkiss. She is the daughter of the president of neighbouring Barakat, and I broke it off with her on my first weekend here.” When her eyes grew wide, he knew he should be more explicit. “There never was anything between us except for our families brokering this deal. That’s exactly what it was, between our two governments without us even knowing about it until we were presented with the terms.”

  “You don’t love her?”

  Her voice sounded so small, it took everything he had inside him to not lunge forward and wrap her in his arms so she would feel in his embrace how much she meant to him—aka the world.

  “I never have, and neither has she. Bilkiss is gay. And I told you there’s always just been one woman for me, and it’s you. Always you.”

  Her shoulders deflated, but his heart wanted to sing with victory and joy when she came up and plastered herself to him so he would hug her.

  “Then what is this all about?” she asked, the words muffled against his jumper.

  “Just utter nonsense I intend to remedy ASAP.”

  She tore herself away from him to look into his face. “You’re going back?”

  It felled him to see the depths of doubt and hurt in her eyes. Like the murky brown he had witnessed when her prick of an ex had been abusing her.