by Zee Monodee
An idea suddenly dawned.
“Come with me,” he told her.
“What?” She blinked, her lower lip trembling.
“Come with me to Bagumi. Let me show my family that I am with you, and nothing will make me change my mind. Whether they accept it or not, we’ll be back here by this weekend, living our lives as we have been these past few days.”
She swallowed hard. “Zediah … Is it really a good idea, to antagonise them in the middle of a political crisis, as I assume this whole shebang is one?”
A smile tugged at his lips. “All the more reason for it. Let’s show them who we are. Riodiah.”
A laugh bubbled out of her. “Oksana came up with it, didn’t she?”
“She did.” He grew solemn and peered down into her face, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “What do you say?”
“That we go to Bagumi and face your family?”
He nodded. “Trust me.”
Chapter Ten
Trust him … Was this the biggest mistake she would end up making?
Or would falling in love with the one man who could break her heart take the top spot?
A sense of unease had fallen over Rio as soon as she’d stepped foot inside her house that Thursday evening to find a man who looked remarkably like Zediah standing there with him.
She wouldn’t have said it was his twin right away, not even with the long locs, but definitely a brother. And the way he stood, all straight and with rigid shoulders, had augured nothing good. Hell, even him being here had meant the lid would soon be slammed down on the few days of heaven she’d known with Zediah this past week.
Then was the news of his betrothal, which he’d assured her was not relevant. Still, it appeared to be on the cards back in Bagumi. Rollicking nausea had assailed her. When he’d told her of his ludicrous plan to go back and face them all together, she’d wanted to say no.
But a part of her had reckoned the two of them would have no hope of existing if he didn’t settle the score with his family. She had received her father’s and her brothers’ blessing—Zediah deserved the same on his side, too.
So bottling up her dread, she had acquiesced, and the ball had started rolling. She had, however, been adamant they wait for Nour to wake up in the morning before setting out; his routine would be upended enough with this unexpected trip. Plus, they were going on a private plane, so they weren’t tied by commercial schedules.
Zediah made her pack light, which brought some comfort—he wasn’t planning an extended stay there. In, out, back here and going about their business as usual. She crossed her fingers it would all take place as such, and nothing untoward would land onto their path.
It took them seven hours from London to touch down in Bagumi, at the international airport located quite far from the capital, Darusa. She’d tamped down her awe when turning up at London City airport in the heart of the English capital. Planes were allowed only seven minutes on the runway for take-off or landing. Only the famous and ridiculously rich could afford to use this platform located next to towering skyscrapers.
The plane had been another jaw-dropping moment. This was royalty—of course, it would be nothing but the best for them. The height of luxury she’d seen had been when Gary had played in a World Cup for England, and the wives and girlfriends had accompanied the players in the first-class section of an Emirates A380 double-decker.
But even such luxury looked like a paltry three-stars compared to the lavishness of this private jet done in the softest, buttery leather and gold trimmings and where the food rivalled what would be served in a Michelin star restaurant. Veuve Clicquot champagne was offered upon boarding, but she declined, knowing she needed a clear head for what would come next.
To be honest, every minute into this trip did nothing to alleviate the churning fear that had started building inside her. They were leaving London, her safe place. She was British, but what did it mean in Bagumi? Had the West African nation signed human rights charters and the like? Why hadn’t she looked more into it before jumping the gun and blindingly believing Zediah’s carefree words?
The Saenes were royals, the absolute law on the territory of Bagumi. Should they decide her son, who was a Saene by blood, better remain there with them, Rio would have no hope, let alone any means, of fighting them. No one in the legal world would go against a reigning monarch in a custody battle. It would be lost before it even started. They could take her child from her, and there would be nothing she could do about it.
But Zediah wouldn’t allow this, surely. A quick glance at his tense face across from her alleviated some of her fears. He seemed livid, the fury inside him barely contained in the unyielding set of his shoulders and the rigidness of his forearms, visible as he’d removed his suit jacket and had rolled the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows.
He wouldn’t let something like this happen to her and Nour, would he? The Saenes were his family, but still …
His warm hand reached over and wrapped itself around hers, and she blinked up into his face. His eyes were hooded, the frown perpetually on his forehead now. He had looked so refreshed and happy this past week, his features all smoothed out, making him seem younger. There’d been a laughing sparkle to his eyes, a smile etched onto his lips at all times.
The press of his hand came at her solid, intentional like it wanted to be an anchor for her. Staring into his eyes, their quicksilver gleam lessened some of the stress on her heart, and she gave him a tight smile as she squeezed his hand back.
The captain announced they would be landing soon, and Zediah let go of her to buckle his seat belt again. She did the same, throwing a quick look at Oksana and Nour in his car seat across the aisle.
Zediah had been adamant the nanny came along, to not upend Nour’s routine even more and give Rio a break as she would meet his family. Best the baby had all the safe landmarks they could keep in his life. His twin, Zareb, sat behind them, thankfully.
All too soon, they landed. Rio had not been expecting the shock to her system when the door opened, and she found herself standing there at the top. A gust of warm air engulfed her, her upper lip already breaking out in a sweat. She cast her gaze above to the partially covered sky, the clouds looking like they held a fair amount of rainwater in them.
Blast it. It was like stepping foot in Mauritius in the heart of summer when winter and probably snow blanketed London. Definitely a sudden change. Hopefully, none of them would get sick from the temperature difference. She should ditch the scarf she had wound around her neck, but the plain white blouse and dark blue skinny jeans outfit with ballet flats would look too ordinary without it. She would have to make do. Still, she undid the silk and then flipped it back on in a loose drape over her shoulders.
Zediah clasped her hand as soon as his feet touched the tarmac, and he helped her down the stairs. “Welcome to Bagumi.”
She smiled at him, at the pride she could hear in his tone. He loved his country. It had been a good idea to let him come. She would never want for him to cut out a part of himself—which this land seemed to be—to stay with her.
A small sense of relief flooding in. She threaded their fingers together, relishing it when he tightened his grip and tugged her along gently towards the convoy of Range Rover SUVs waiting for them.
Her heartbeat started galloping when she saw Oksana and Nour being directed to another car. They would not take her son from her!
With rapid steps, she went to them and put a stop to it, and thankfully, Zediah backed her up even under Zareb’s frightful scowl. She would gladly tell him to piss off, though. No one came between her and her child.
The car seat ended up buckled in the middle between her and Zediah, the nanny taking the front passenger space next to the driver. Then the drive to the palace got underway.
Thinking of losing Nour in any way threw a blanket of unrest over her again. The churning sensation refused to leave her gut now, but she took deep breaths through her nose and tried to stave
the panic off. They were in this together, she and Zediah, against the world. Or, in this case, his eminent family.
It took a while to get to the palace. She’d imagined Bagumi to be a tiny country like Mauritius, though there, too, it could take over an hour to get from one point to another. When the royal compound came into view, she actually lost her breath, her mouth dropping open in awe.
“Not too shabby,” Zediah murmured next to her with a chuckle.
She cut him a glare. What an understatement. It didn’t look precisely like European castles. Still, the sprawling buildings amid magnificent gardens looked like they had hidden interior courtyards all over, reminding her of the Maghreb palaces or even the sprawling mahals of the maharajahs in India.
The cars came to a stop in front of a set of massive stone steps. Strange, but no one stood there to greet them. Guess people. Namely they, came to royalty, and not the other way round. Rio made it to the top of the steps before a curvaceous figure sprinted out of the cavernous opened doors to the palace and headed straight to her to wrap her in lithe arms.
“Oh, I have been so eager to meet you!” the woman gushed.
“Isha, let her breathe,” Zediah intoned behind her.
The woman released her, and Rio found herself looking into a beautiful face with a fetching smile and cheeks that looked like they’d been contoured by a master makeup artist. Except, she saw not a whit of product on those striking features.
“And this must be your son!” the woman, Isha, continued. “He is so cute!”
As Rio watched her approach the baby, she put two and two together. Isha was Zediah’s older sister. She was also the one who had sent a boot up his arse so he would apologize to Rio after the way he had barged into her life. Rio owed her chocolate cake or wine.
“Damn, he’s a little diva.”
She turned to Zediah, who was looking at Nour, the baby seeming to lap up the attention being lavished onto him by his aunt. A chuckle escaped her. Nour had never really been shy. Guess he would take this trip in stride. Could the same be said about her?
“We should go in,” Zareb spoke up. “The king and queens are waiting for us in the red reception room.”
A cold shiver danced down her spine upon hearing these words. Zareb also had a borderline sinister manner to him, so serious and uptight, she could understand why Zediah said they were nothing alike. Did the man ever smile? No wonder he had become an Olympic fencing champion. He could aim for the kill with just a glare, no need for a sword.
The hand Zediah placed in the small of her back eased up some of her nerves, but only just. Then he was leading her down a set of corridors that had her utterly confused and feeling lost after the fourth—or was it fifth?—turn.
Finally, seven-foot-tall, gilded doors were opened before them, and she glimpsed a lavish room done in. She had been expecting it, predominantly red and gold.
A distinguished gentleman with salt and pepper hair and a full beard stood near the far windows. King Ibrahim. Zediah’s father. She recognised him from the few pictures of him she’d seen in society pages over the years.
To his right stood a tall, thin woman with walnut brown skin and locs of black hair with strands of white in them. Queen Zulekha, Zediah’s mother. And to his left stood a darker-skinned, curvy woman who wore a glorious head wrap on her head. Queen Sapphire, the king’s other wife.
Presentations were made, and in the haze of apprehension and nerves, Rio remembered how to put a foot back, daintily lower her knees, and bow her head in a curtsey to the king and queens, exactly like she’d learned for the waltz.
Zediah’s other brothers were also there. Crown Prince Zawadi seemed like a man of few words, though he had a kind smile and the sort of face to make one think they could confide in him. On the other hand, Prince Azikiwe had laughing, twinkling eyes and the easy smile of a man who loved the good life. Didn’t the tabloids say he was an ultimate playboy?
Of course, Nour totally stole the show. The royal family oohed and aahed over him. The proud grandparents peering down at him almost with tears in their eyes, and even the princes had goofy smiles on as they got to meet their nephew. Zediah was telling them all about his son’s antics, and for a second, she almost convinced herself this trip here would be a walk in the park.
And then she walked in. The air inside Rio froze then erupted out of her in a gush that sounded like a plaintive sigh. She didn’t need introductions to know this tall and gorgeous woman who could easily play an Amazon in a Wonder Woman movie was Bilkiss. Zediah’s betrothed.
Queen Sapphire took the baby and approached Oksana. “Let me show you to your room, my dear. This little one looks like he will tucker out soon from all the excitement.”
As the door closed behind their departing figures, a hush fell over the room.
Panic started going haywire in Rio. It suddenly felt like it was her against the world, against them all. They’d taken her son away. How she wished Zediah would come to her side and hold her—heck, even just take her hand.
But public displays of affection were a no-no in front of the monarch. So, he remained a couple feet away from her, a distance feeling as wide and cold as the English Channel. And all the while, her gaze kept returning to the absolutely stunning Bilkiss.
It didn’t matter if the woman had said she was gay. She seemed to be opposing no resistance to being here, and a small part of Rio’s heart shrivelled and died. She knew what was coming. The king said it a second later.
The best course of action for Bagumi, and Barakat, would be for this marriage to go along as planned. The fatwa was just a rumour for the time being. A wedding tomorrow, Saturday, would smooth it all out. Were they all on the same page?
It was an edict. She knew it, and so did everyone else. The silence blanketing the room drove the point home even more.
“Riona, my dear,” the king was now saying. She shook herself to pay attention to his words. “It pains me to be doing this to you, but you must understand the tricky position our nation is in right now. Zediah has been betrothed to Bilkiss, and my other sons are also considering similar alliances. However, be aware, a second marriage is recognised under our laws. Zediah can still do the right thing by you.”
A pin could drop, and you’d hear it.
Then Isha spoke. “Seriously? This what you’re going to ask of them?”
“Isha,” Zareb intoned with a warning.
A tiff broke between the siblings.
Rio forced herself out of the stupor those words had wrought onto her and lifted her gaze towards Zediah. He stood stock-still, his back ramrod-straight, and his eyes on Bilkiss, who seemed to cower there in the corner while looking pointedly at him.
Were they considering how they could make this work? How they could be together and stop the political crisis happening around them? They would make a beautiful couple, both of them so stunning and tall.
Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. The air seemed to get sucked into the vortex building before her eyes between Zediah and his intended.
Rio was never meant to be part of the full picture. Nour, yes. But not her. With a start, she remembered the first time Zediah had stepped foot inside her office just two weeks earlier. His focus had been on his son. He’d wanted a better life for the child.
He hadn’t wanted a future with her at the time. Circumstances had pushed them together, their joining then inevitable. But what if those same circumstances had played out differently?
Eighteen months earlier, they had been at a similar crossroads. And Zediah had chosen his family over her. Today, Nour was part of that family. But Rio wasn’t.
The Saenes were the absolute authority over this land. Nour was a Saene, as was Zediah. They could demand her son stay here from now on. If Rio wanted to stick along, she could do so as the prince’s second wife.
Officially, Bilkiss would be known as his ‘real’ wife, the one who would attend official events with him, who would be by his side in all photo ops and such,
whose name would be on all the records as his legal spouse. She watched many Bollywood movies. The Mughal-era polygamous princes, as depicted in those films and in history books, took more than one wife. Yet, it was the first who was always the primary partner.
Mumbling her excuses, she took a few steps back, as protocol dictated when in front of a monarch. Then turned away and flew to the wide doors she flung open before dashing down the corridor.
Walls rushed past, opulent décor blipping through her peripheral vision. Though she lived in a rich man’s zip code in Knightsbridge, it was nowhere close to this. The palace was a whole other world—hell, another universe entirely—and she didn’t belong here.
A glimpse of sunshine caught her eye, and she forged ahead towards the French windows, pushing them open, emerging into a sun-drenched courtyard. The long scarf trailing behind her snagged on a rose bush, the soft fabric tugging her back and closing around her throat.
Rio came to an abrupt halt as she tried to undo the chokehold around her neck. The blue silk with the chequered jewel tones reminded her of a luxurious Indian dupatta. Unbidden, her thoughts went to another woman running desperately around the corridors of an empty palace, her beautiful dupatta soaring in the air behind her all while tears coursed down her cheeks.
Everyone who watched Indian movies knew of the Bollywood classic tragedy Devdas. The titular character was a well-off young man who loved his poorer neighbour, Paro. When his parents mockingly turned her down for their son, her family married her off to a wealthy man, decades her senior, as his second wife. Upon his return and finding his love now lost to him, Devdas fell into the bottom of a bottle. Paro spent her days haunting the halls of her husband’s castle, bawling her heart out for her lost love.
She might not have lost Zediah—she could still have him if she became his second wife. But her love might as well be lost. Like Paro, she’d been deemed unfit by his illustrious family, and now, she’d have to live the rest of her life with this knowledge scalding her bleeding heart like acid.