by Leslie North
He stood up.
“Think very carefully the next time you summon me, council members. Very carefully. This meeting is over.”
Chakir left, feeling lighter than he ever had.
“I don’t know how to ask this, Nadima.”
Hannah stood in the center of what would be her new bedroom as two maids restocked her closet and put away the last of her belongings. The last few days had been a whirlwind.
“Ask, Hannah,” the other woman said with a twinkle in her eye.
“Will you…come with me? To this part of the palace? Or…to my staff, I guess. I want you to be in charge of everyone.” Hannah laughed. “I don’t know what the correct title is. I learned about it from Chakir, but…” The laugh died away, the momentary lightness replaced with a heavy emptiness. “I hope you’ll come with me. I need you in my household.”
Nadima, after all, had opened her eyes. Over the course of the last few days, they’d talked and talked and talked as the two women had worked to transfer Ryan and Hannah’s life to another part of the palace. It was a bigger task than Hannah had anticipated. For one thing, they both had a lot more clothes than when they’d landed in Hamari. For another, Ryan had been assigned his own wing of the palace, not just an apartment suite. There had been decisions to make about furniture and decorations and a lot more. Hannah wouldn’t have made it without Nadima.
It wasn’t an indulgence to have Nadima’s help—or the rest of the staff. Hannah saw that now. Even if Hannah personally didn’t need someone to iron her clothes or pack her rooms, it wasn’t about her personal needs…at least not as much as her life in the United States had led her to believe. The positions on her staff—on Ryan’s staff, rather—were excellent jobs for members of the tribes and provided income for their families across generations.
“Of course I will,” said Nadima. “As long as I can get permission from the royal household to transfer.” She put a hand on Hannah’s arm. “I’m sure it won’t be any problem at all.”
Hannah let out a sigh of relief. Until Ryan was of age, she’d be the one running his household. It was more than a little wild, running a household in a palace. She’d been naive enough to think that a royal household was mostly about receiving unearned luxuries and having people wait on you hand and foot just because you’d lucked into it by birth.
That was not the case. Not here in Hamari at least.
“I’m so glad, Nadima. I’m in a bit over my head.”
“I’d say you’re swimming just fine,” Nadima said. “Was there anything else you needed from me? I’m going to step out and make the formal transfer request. It’ll only take a few minutes.”
“No, that was all. Thank you.” She took Nadima’s hands in hers. “Thank you so much.”
They were going to be friends. Hannah could feel it.
But once Nadima and the maids had gone, Hannah could feel an emptiness, too.
She hadn’t wanted to see Chakir.
At the same time, she’d wanted to see him so badly it hurt to breathe. But the things he’d said to her before the crowning ceremony had cut deep. And worse, he’d been right.
Hannah went to the window and looked out over the gardens. Someone moved through the paths, watering the plants. Her heart ached to be out there with Chakir again, narrowly avoiding discovery.
He had not been right when he told her she should be silent. That was bullshit. But what he’d been trying to tell her…
What he’d been trying to tell her, at the heart of it, was that tradition had its place. Not everything could be up for renovation. Those traditions formed a complicated structure that people across Hamari depended upon. Changing one thing could change many things.
She’d felt a little hemmed in when they first came to Hamari.
And now?
The new wing felt a million miles away.
It was too far, and it was too much space.
Which was silly.
It wasn’t as if they’d made any kind of commitment to each other. Hannah had always known that whatever they had would have to end by virtue of being so…nontraditional. Running Ryan’s household didn’t necessarily make her suited to a role in the royal family, especially as Chakir’s wife. He’d already tangled with the council members enough because of her. There was no way he would want a lifetime of those kinds of arguments.
She knew that. She knew it.
So why did her new independence feel so hollow?
Hannah leaned against the windowsill and traced the paths of the gardens with a fingertip against the glass. She’d liked being part of a pair after all, even if it couldn’t last.
19
“The rest of the summer is ahead of us, Kishon. Surely you have something in mind for me.”
Chakir sat with his brother in the king’s apartment, the two of them lingering over breakfast. So far, Chakir had spent thirty minutes hinting that he wanted to talk about whatever assignment would come next. He had some leeway when it came to his work as crown prince. He’d brought ideas to Kishon many times over the years. But right now, his mind was blank, and he was certain his brother had something up his sleeve.
At least, he hoped he did. It was generally pleasant to have meetings in the sunny nook off Kishon’s private dining room, but Chakir was not in the mood for pleasantries. He was in the mood for action. Anything to get him out of the palace, which had never seemed so vast and so small at the same time.
Kishon sipped at his tea. “There’s plenty of time for that, Chakir.”
Chakir leaned on the arm of his chair and peered at his brother. “I’m not asking for vacation time.”
“If you were, you know I’d grant it.”
There was no use in hinting any longer. Kishon was playing a long game of his own, Chakir could see. “I want to get started on something. The sooner the better.”
Kishon set his teacup on his saucer with a soft clink. “And why is that? I’ve always known you to take a little time to yourself between engagements.”
“Yes. A day or two. It’s been a week since the crowning ceremony.”
“I wanted to talk to you about that.”
Chakir bristled. “If you’ve been dancing around this conversation because the elders finally broke you down, then we can consider this meeting—”
Kishon laughed. “The elders did not get to me. They’re old men who are invested in keeping things exactly as they were when they were young men. Change terrifies them. You know that as well as I do.”
“They’ve made it very clear how they felt about the crowning ceremony.”
Kishon raised his eyebrows. “You’re clearly harboring some emotions about it yourself.”
“It was no small thing, getting Ryan ready to be presented to the entire court and crowned without making a fool of all of us. He’s only five. He did very well. I did well.”
“And that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Kishon pointed at Chakir. “You did an excellent job. And when it comes to Hannah and Ryan—”
“When it comes to Hannah and Ryan, my work with them is over. Can we please move on to whatever my future work should be? Otherwise, I’ll choose something for myself, preferably something that takes me to the opposite side of the planet from this discussion.” He dropped a piece of toast he’d been holding. He wasn’t going to eat it now. It had been cold for fifteen minutes.
Kishon chortled. Chakir glared at him. For the space of several heartbeats, he felt ten years old again, with his older brother pressing all his buttons.
“Listen to me. I’m not here to reprimand you. I want to know what you did with Ryan that turned things around so quickly, there toward the end.”
Chakir sat back in his chair. “I didn’t know you were paying such close attention.”
“Of course I was paying attention. Why would I not?” Kishon shook his head. “What’s relevant now is that things weren’t working, and then they were. Tell me what happened.”
Chakir thought back, t
hough it was painful to remember being in a room with Hannah so often. He’d taken it for granted. Naturally. “It started with the money,” he began, and the words spilled out of him. They’d had the successful outing to the market, and then they’d taken a few sessions at the park. Ryan had spent more time talking to the people of Hamari over the course of his training than any other prince before him.
“It worked because he was using his new knowledge. It was all real, not a theoretical exercise. And it all started with Hannah. She was the one who saw the benefits of…applied learning, I suppose you’d call it. She knew her son best and wasn’t afraid to fight for it.” Passion swelled in his chest, bright and hot. “Honestly, she was incredible. I wanted to keep things the same, and she stood up to me. Even though she was in unfamiliar territory, with no one but her son. She was courageous. And she was right.” Chakir looked across the table at Kishon. “And that’s what happened.”
“Incredible,” Kishon said.
“It was incredible.”
“No.” Kishon raised his eyebrows. “She was incredible. Hannah. In the space of a minute you’ve called her incredible, courageous…right…” Kishon laughed. “What does that sound like to you?”
“It sounds like an accurate description of Hannah.”
“It sounds like a man in love,” proclaimed Kishon.
Chakir let his head fall against the back of the chair. “Don’t do this.”
“It sounds like you love her.” Kishon was the king of Hamari, and he was also the king of ignoring Chakir when it suited him.
“What do you know about love?” He raised his head and narrowed his eyes. “You’ve never had the slightest inkling what love is.”
“Please. Our home was very loving growing up.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
Kishon spread his hands on the table. “It’s proof that I know what love is. I might not have found it with a woman yet…” A flash of wickedness moved through the king’s eyes. “At least, not a woman I wanted for my queen. But that’s neither here nor there.”
“I should go.”
“You will sit.” Kishon jabbed a finger across the table at Chakir, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “You love this woman, and it’s absurd to pretend that you don’t.”
“So what if I do?” Chakir countered. “What would it come to? I can’t marry her until you’re married first. It’s tradition.” The words tasted like sorrow and regret. Or maybe that was the tea.
Kishon blinked. “Marry her?” The words hovered in the air between them, and Chakir’s heart squeezed. “Do you care deeply enough for her to consider marriage?”
His thoughts spun back to the first night they’d met—the first time he’d ever seen Hannah Fisher. She’d been holding her own with the hulking landlord, just barely keeping it together, and yet he could see the fight in her from the sidewalk. He saw all the flashes of determination in her eyes when he explained the situation. He saw how reluctant she was to give up even a shred of her independence.
And then, once she’d come to Hamari, he’d seen her true grit. For the sake of her son, she’d learned about a new country and a new culture in a matter of hours. She’d met and even exceeded the standards Chakir had set for her. That was laughable now—Hannah was a standard unto herself.
Beyond that, she…fit him. She fit him in a way no one ever had. She challenged him and delighted him and every day Chakir woke up wanting to see her and talk to her and find out what was on her mind.
To say nothing of the way it felt to kiss her.
To say nothing of the way it felt to take her to bed.
She was a combination of everything Chakir loved about following rules and breaking them. Even now, the sounds she made were embedded in his mind. He wouldn’t be able to forget them as long as he lived.
“Yes.” He didn’t know how long he’d been silent. “Yes, I do care for her that much.” But he shrugged his shoulders. “But what do I do about it? There are no rules for this situation. It’s not the traditional way a wife is found.”
Kishon shrugged back at him. “Maybe it’s time we begin to write our own rules.” He clapped his hands together, then stood up. “I have faith you’ll be able to figure it out. Consider it your next project.”
20
Hannah moved through her new residence, letting her fingers trail over the furniture, straightening pillows, making everything just so.
Ryan was out with the nanny, due back in a few minutes. It was strange—a couple months ago, Hannah couldn’t have imagined being this gloriously alone. Hiring a babysitter was perpetually out of her budget, and when would she have found the time to do anything for herself anyway?
Not that she had much time now. Much time—she had hours before she needed to be anywhere. In fact, it was Ryan who had dinner plans this evening, with a few friends from his birthday party. Hannah would only be along for the ride. It was a bonus that her friends would be there too. She wanted to talk to Raisa and Fatima about hairstyles. It was nice to have her hair done by a stylist each morning, but the longer they spent in Hamari, the more Hannah needed to learn.
As for right now, Hannah had intended to work on the rooms in their new wing while Ryan was out, but everything was already done.
With Nadima at the helm, redecorating had been completed in record time. Hannah finally felt like she could breathe again. The style of the rooms was a little more eclectic than the original, just the way she liked it. Right down to the throw pillows with embroidered birds and the cozy blankets draped over the backs of some of the sofas. It was the royal version of her house back in the United States.
She should be over the moon. She should be filled with excitement about all the possibilities that lay ahead of her. Whatever had happened with Chakir, coming to Hamari with Ryan was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. A sit-down with the royal treasurer had opened Hannah’s eyes yet again. She didn’t need to worry about money going forward. Eventually, Ryan would come into his own, and then they’d negotiate some kind of allowance, but he wouldn’t be eighteen for a long time.
In the meantime, it was her job to guide Ryan through his new royal life, advocating for him when she felt like changes needed to be made and stepping back when it was time for him to go on by himself.
In a way, it was a dream come true. On the roughest nights with Ryan when he was an infant, when nothing could make him calm down and she was so desperately tired that all she could do was cry, she’d wished for someone to whisk her away to a land where she could ask for help if she needed it. Just a little bit of help. Now she had all that and then some.
“Hannah?”
Nadima came into the living room carrying a narrow box that Hannah recognized instantly. “Oh, where did you find that? I’ve been meaning to look for it.”
“The last few boxes arrived from the States today. This was in one of them.” Nadima came over and held out the box to Hannah, lid open. “It’s a beautiful piece.”
“It really is.”
Hannah rested her fingertips on the edge of the jewelry box. The necklace inside gleamed like it had just been polished, though Hannah knew it had been sitting inside this box since her mother had died. She’d willed it to Hannah, along with a few other things, and Hannah had never known what to do with a necklace like that. The delicate silver setting—or maybe it was white gold, Hannah had never been sure—sparkled with small sapphires that reminded her of droplets of ocean water.
“It would go with your dress,” Nadima said. “Or would you like me to put it away?”
Nadima was right. Hannah’s dress was a flowing blue creation, a summer dress to end all summer dresses. But she hesitated. Things like this necklace…they had to be earned. You couldn’t just put them on for a soccer game on an average Thursday.
Hannah’s breath caught in her throat. That was ridiculous. She didn’t have to earn beauty. Nobody did. And the necklace had been sitting in Hannah’s storage room for years. It was m
eant to be enjoyed. All the women who had owned it before her would have wanted her to wear it whenever it struck her fancy.
“No, I would like to put it on,” said Hannah. She reached for the box but stopped herself just in time. She smiled at Nadima. “Would you mind?” Hannah turned and lifted her hair.
“Not at all, Hannah.” She could hear the smile in Nadima’s voice.
Nadima carefully fastened the necklace around Hannah’s neck. Hannah spun around to show it off. “How do I look?”
“You’ll be a hit on the sidelines.”
“It’ll be hard to miss me, I’m sure.”
Nadima snapped the jewelry box shut. “I’ll put this in your closet. Is there anything else I can help with?” She scanned the room. “It looks like you’ve been straightening pillows.”
Hannah rolled her eyes. “I’m allowed to straighten pillows.”
“I’m only teasing. Call for me if you need me.”
Nadima left, and Hannah made her way out of the living room and down to Ryan’s bedroom. A lump rose in her throat. Ryan’s former soccer team was going to play in its biggest game of the season, and Ryan wouldn’t be playing. Chakir had forbidden it, and apparently the elders had agreed. But they were invited to dinner afterward.
Ryan’s bedroom door was slightly ajar. Hannah knocked lightly on the frame. “Hey, buddy,” she called, pushing the door open. “What are you doing?”
Her son stood in front of the full-length mirror in the corner of the room, pulling up his soccer shorts. He’d already put on his socks and shin guards. Ryan adjusted them one final time, then spun to show them off to her.
“Oh, Ryan,” Hannah said. “You know it’s not a good idea to press our luck with the soccer. We should probably just lay low until dinner, and—”