The Torn Prince

by Zee Monodee

  In the past, he would have quaked in his shoes under the stern, scathing tone. But not today. Not when he had his wife radiating like an angel of redemption next to him. He tightened his grip around her fingers, and courage fuelled him when she squeezed back.

  The king entered then, Queen Sapphire in his wake. His eyebrows went up when his gaze landed on Riona. A man of the world, he should know what the colour in her hair parting meant.

  “Zediah, what on Earth is going on?” his mother asked, her sharp voice grating with the incredulity he could clearly hear now. So she must have worked it out, too.

  Taking a deep breath and gulping down hard, he stepped forward, tugging Rio along with him. She slid by his side under the prompt.

  “Rio and I are married.”

  There, he’d said it.

  Queen Zulekha sputtered as her face went red. His mother rarely displayed her state of mind. This must really have rankled her.

  Good. She shouldn’t have believed she got to steer his life as she wanted in the first place.

  As she opened her mouth to speak again, a sound coming from the side stunned them all.

  The king was laughing. Actual belly laughs. It even looked like he’d bend in two to hold his stomach in with his arms at some point.

  Zediah exchanged a look with his siblings. By this point, Zawadi had joined them, as had Bilkiss. All seemed to be utterly shocked by the monarch’s response.

  When his mirth died down, he wiped his eyes as if tears had been forming there.

  “Zediah,” he boomed, then shook his head. “What else had we been expecting, though?”

  Surprise still had all their vocal cords in its grip. The only one who seemed totally placid was Queen Sapphire, standing a step behind her husband.

  The king took a few steps towards them. “You were always the one who never cowered.”

  With his father up close, Zediah took a deep breath and looked into the wizened face. “You’re not angry?”

  “I’m actually furious.” Then he waved a hand in the air. “But what’s the point?”

  The older man then stepped to the side, reaching up to clasp Rio’s face in his palms.

  “My dear child, my son makes you happy?” When she replied yes, he nodded. “And you love him?”

  “More than the world itself.” The conviction in her tone rang crystal clear in the big room.

  “Ah,” the king said with a sigh. “Love. What are we to do when the heart takes the reins … except honour it?”

  It was what King Ibrahim had done with Queen Sapphire. They all knew it.

  “Your Majesty, do we have your blessing?”

  Surprise, then awe, then a boatload of respect flooded Zediah when Rio spoke and looked straight at the monarch, her back and shoulders straight as her fingers clasped tighter around his. This was his girl. She was back.

  Another booming laugh resounded. “Call me Dad.”

  “Then bless us, Papa-ji.”

  Rio released his hand, and he understood why when she bent her knees, then lowered her torso to reach out, touching the king’s feet with the tips of her right-hand fingers.

  Queen Sapphire ambled up to her husband and murmured a few words in his ear.

  The king then placed a gentle hand on Rio’s head. “Bless you, my daughter. May you always remain a wife.”

  Rio seemed to find this blessing acceptable—he’d have to ask her about it later—and she rose to her full height. The king reached out with both hands and touched their heads. They had earned his acceptance.

  As Zediah stood there looking at his beautiful wife, his heart soared as crystalline music built up in his soul. Riona ‘Rio’ Mittal, soon to be Saene when they wed in front of the law. She had swept in and won him over with just a look, and she had gained the hearts of everyone present, too, with her radiant presence. Well, his mother would take some work, but it was a battle for another day. For now, he’d savour this victory.

  Tomorrow, when their son woke up, they would be able to tell him his mum and dad were now married. Nour wouldn’t understand, but it didn’t matter. Nothing did, but the fact he and Rio would live the rest of their lives together, and Nour would always have his parents to love and support him.

  Epilogue

  Six months later …

  “I swear this morning nappy must weigh ten pounds,” Zediah whined aloud as he changed his son.

  Strangely enough, no giggle came from the bathroom. He said this every time they gave Oksana a night off, and he woke up to attend to the now fifteen-month-old toddler on those mornings. Rio usually laughed. He frowned, wondering why the other side of the door was as silent as a tomb.

  “Rio? Babe?”

  He couldn’t leave the squirming little worm to go check on her, though. By the time he’d donned the clean nappy on his extremely recalcitrant child who had developed an affinity for being a nudist, there had been a flush of the loo. Then the door had opened, Rio sailing out of it.

  She came up to him, deftly wriggled Nour into a one-arm hold, and placed him in the playpen at the side of their bedroom. Then, she turned to Zediah, and the broad smile on her face alleviated some of his fears.

  “What is it?” he asked. She had him on pins and needles now with this borderline beatific look on her face.

  She smiled even more expansively, then took his hand and placed something on the open palm. He peered down to find a little plastic gadget, and— He frowned. Was this …? Looking closer, he saw two clear pink lines on the little window on the far end of the strip.

  Blinking, he looked back up at her. “Is this …?”

  She nodded, head bobbing rapidly. “We are pregnant!”

  “We are?” he repeated like a dumb parrot until the realisation worked itself inside him. “We are!”

  Laughter spilled out of him, and he took a step forward to wrap her in his arms and crush her to him. “Oh my God, I’m so happy. Rio, you just made me the happiest man in the world!”

  She laughed, then pulled away just enough to kiss him. Seemed she had intended it to be a quick peck, but he took her mouth and sought a long, drawn-out kiss. He only tore himself away from her when something smashed into the side of his thigh, and a howl of pain travelled up his throat.

  He glanced down to find Nour standing in the playpen, one hand on the edge, the other aiming to bang the wooden horse against his father’s leg again. The kid did not like not being the centre of attention.

  Reluctantly, he let his wife go from his embrace and bent to lift the baby in his arms, pointedly leaving the toy horse behind.

  “How far along are you, do you know?”

  She shrugged. “I suppose a few weeks, a month maybe. I’ll know more when we see the doctor.”

  “We should go today.” Any doctor in Bagumi would drop their schedule if the royal family requested a private visit.

  “No can do,” she replied over her shoulder as she breezed into the walk-in wardrobe. “I need to go check on the centre, then there’s the opening of the care home on the outskirts of Darusa, and we need to be back by noon to make our flight to London.”

  He groaned. “So when will we see the doctor?”

  “I’ll arrange an appointment with my former ob-gyn in London, then she can liaise with the hospital here.”

  “Don’t you think it would be better if we went today? Forget those arrangements—”

  The words died on his tongue as she popped out of the walk-in to level him with a pointed stare. He shouldn’t wake the beast.

  Rio had taken to royal life like a duck to water in Bagumi. Her contract with Tempo had ended back in January, and she’d wanted them to return here afterwards. It had coincided with their official wedding. Her family indulged in all the Indian traditions. Rio and Zediah not doing the saat phere again but instead settling for the saptapadi, walking seven steps together instead of the seven rounds with the sacred fire.

  His mother got the February event she had wanted all along, which had helpe
d to soothe the rift they’d created with their elopement. Queen Sapphire had gotten the Valentine’s Day wedding she had wished for, too.

  She’d turned out to be their biggest champion. Ever since walking a distraught Rio back to her room that fateful day, she had sweetly whispered in the king’s ear to give them a chance. She’d even learned the blessing an elder was supposed to provide a married Indian woman. To her, the king’s reaction that night had been no surprise.

  And speaking of the king, he had gifted them a centre for performing arts as a wedding gift. The building was still being erected, but it didn’t mean Rio wasn’t a busy bee.

  Bagumians had fallen in love with her, with her simplicity, winsome smile, and the fact she spoke Creole. Granted, it was with a weird accent, but the mother tongue from Mauritius, where her mum was from, took her in good stead with the locals here who had adopted her into their fold. Her Royal Highness Princess Riona was in much demand for official outings now.

  As for the noon departure, Rio always had them arrange flights involving Nour during the day. She wanted him to be able to turn in for the night at whatever destination they were heading to, so trips had to happen during the daytime. This particular jump would see them in London for the next two weeks.

  It meant going to see his in-laws, and though he loved Rio’s family, there was no love lost between him and his mother-in-law. The woman gave him the creeps, and he knew how much of a bigot she really was, though she behaved in their presence. Guess him coming with an HRH title and giving one to her daughter had soothed the sting of him being a Black man. Frankly, if he never saw her again, it would be no loss. It comforted him the same could be said for Rio, who didn’t allow her mother to walk all over her. Nour also didn’t seem impressed by the older woman.

  But this trip had a whole other reason for being on their schedule. Humphrey had proposed to Martha a while back, soon after she’d taken over for Rio as the Executive Director of Tempo. Martha’s strongest wish was for her husband to dance the waltz with her during their late spring wedding. Rio was going to teach two-left-feet Humphrey how to waltz without making a fool of himself on the dance floor.

  But this pregnancy changed everything. She should be slowing down now, right? Exertion wouldn’t be good for the baby.

  “Popping out for a few.” He tightened his hold on his son and exited the wing they had been given as their private apartments in the palace.

  He made a game of hopping in a sprint for one corridor, then stopping short at the crossroads. Nour found this hilarious. The baby was still laughing when they entered Zareb’s office in the administrative wing of the main castle. Like him, his twin was also an early riser.

  “Beb!” Nour screamed when seeing his uncle, then lurched in his direction.

  Zediah letting go and Zareb catching the bundle had become a well-practised dance by this point. However, Zareb had still not perfected the art of sweeping his locs aside before the feral kid fell onto them to munch away.

  Zediah left his brother to deal with taking the toy-of-the-moment from the boy and dropped onto a seat in front of the desk.

  “What’s up?” Zareb asked.

  “Hush hush, just between us, Rio’s pregnant.” He smiled as he recalled they’d used this phrase among them, siblings, as kids when exchanging rumours or outright secrets.

  “Congratulations, man!” A frown settled on the man’s face. “What’s the matter?”

  Zediah sighed. “I need a guard with her at all time. Female, as she is not to lift a single finger, and someone should be able to go inside the loo with her if she needs her hair held back when vomiting or something.”

  “You know she will kill me if I make this happen. Then she’ll round on you.”

  Defeated, he sagged in the seat. “Yeah. She shouldn’t exert herself, though. And now, with all those talks from Dad to make her Special Advisor for Arts and Culture. Think I could get her to defer taking the position for another year? The baby would be born, and she would have recovered post-partum by then.”

  A snort came from Zareb. “Dream on!”

  That was right, too. He groaned and brought his hands up to his bald head. He’d tried the look once, and Rio had fallen hook, line, and sinker for it. No way could he ever grow his hair back again. Though, with the way things were going, he wouldn’t have much hair left soon.

  “Man, you are so totally pussy-whipped!”

  He looked up at his twin and frowned. “Your turn will come.”

  Zareb cackled.

  “I sincerely doubt it.” A pause followed, then he continued. “Zed, a word of advice?”

  He nodded in acknowledgement.

  “Love her, trust her, yet have her back. Isn’t that the essence of marriage?”

  True enough. If his brother had understood this, relationships shouldn’t scare him so much.

  Getting up, he reached for his son and peeled the recalcitrant kid from the arms of Uncle Beb. As he made for the door, he stopped on the threshold and turned back to his twin.

  “Trust me on this. Your time will come, too.”

  Exiting the office, he wished his brothers well. He hoped they all found the kind of love he shared with Rio and Nour. Although they might lose their hair to all the hoopla, it was worth it. Who needed hair, anyway, when they had their person?

  Yes, he sincerely hoped for all his brothers to find their woman.

  The End

  Thank you for reading The Torn Prince by Zee Monodee, Royal House of Saene Book 4. Please leave a review on the site of purchase.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Of Indian heritage & a 2x breast cancer survivor, Zee lives in paradise (aka Mauritius!) with her long-suffering husband, their smart-mouth teenage son, and their tabby cat who thinks herself a fearsome feline from the nearby African Serengeti plains. When she isn’t in her kitchen rolling out chapattis or baking cakes while singing along to the latest pop hit topping the charts, she can be found reading or catching up on her numerous TV show addictions. In her day job, she is an editor who helps other authors like her hone their works and craft.

  Website: http://www.zeemonodee.com/

  Facebook: facebook.com/zee.monodee

  Instagram: instagram.com/zeemonodee/

  Keep reading for an excerpt from The Resolute Prince by Nana Prah, Royal House of Saene Book 5.

  EXCERPT—The Resolute Prince by Nana Prah

  Zareb bowed to the Queen Zulekha of Bagumi.

  Seated on a maroon and gold patterned loveseat in her chambers, she tilted her face for his kiss, which he obliged.

  Stepping back, his gaze lingered on the person he’d initially assumed to be a female who shared the couch with his mother.

  Delicate features of high cheekbones and a narrow-bridged nose in a slim face had deceived him. Closer inspection of the stranger who had stood and bowed revealed a flat chest, smooth skin with no hint of stubble, and closely shorn hair.

  Their visitor was a young man—an effeminate-looking one, to be sure.

  “Good evening,” Zareb greeted.

  “Dear heart, won’t you have a seat,” his mother said with a wave of her hand.

  He struggled to maintain an indiscernible expression. It grated on his nerves when she called him anything but his given name, and she knew it. Years of attempting to divert his distaste at the endearment had failed.

  “Thank you, Mama.”

  He chose an armchair across from the duo to best observe them.

  His mother turned to the young man and touched his shoulder. “This is Maliq Sule Ahvanti. Everyone calls him Sule. Meet Prince Zareb Aamori Saene, my third child. Son of the King of Bagumi and head of security here at the palace.”

  Zareb’s ears sharpened with interest at the pride in his mother’s voice.

  Sule’s angled mahogany-brown eyes stayed on him.

  Zareb felt a brush of heat at the back of his neck and raised his hand to rub it as his muscles stiffened in full alert.

  “It’s a pl
easure to meet you, Your Highness.” The voice came out with a minimal huskiness as if the young man hadn’t yet gone through puberty. Perhaps he’d overestimated the boy’s age.

  Instead of responding in a like manner, Zareb tipped his head.

  Of what relevance was being a prince if one didn’t demonstrate arrogance every once in a while? Or rather, every day of his life.

  Sule’s mouth tightened into as straight a line as a person with such full lips could achieve. His gaze never wavered as Zareb studied those feminine features. The boy’s insolence intrigued him.

  A strong-willed individual.

  Most people would be fidgeting or at least would have looked away at his concentrated perusal.

  “Sule is the child of a close friend. A sister.”

  Zareb yielded to his mother’s dissolution of the stare-off by shifting his gaze to the queen.

  “We attended the same boarding school and had maintained our friendship ever since. Do you recall Eshe’s visits here and us to her?”

  “I do. You two giggled and gossiped the whole time you were together.”

  To his horror, his mother’s eyes watered. She plucked a tissue from the box on the coffee table and dabbed the tears away before they could slide too far down her flawless cheeks.

  “She was a wonderful woman.”

  His mother’s grief when she’d heard of her friend’s death had placed a pall of sorrow over the palace. Zawadi, Amira, their half-brother Zik, and his stepmother, Queen Sapphire, escorted her to the funeral. The crushing empathy Zareb had felt at his mother’s grief had made it impossible for him to travel with the delegation.

  Fingers clawed into a fist as he retrained from rubbing his chest at the lingering hurt on behalf of his mother’s loss.

  The grim smile she shared with Sule emphasized her heartbreak.

  “Four months gone, and I miss her terribly.”

  Sule’s smooth throat bobbed with his hard swallow. His eyes glistened before he bowed his head. “She spoke highly and often of you, Your Majesty.”