Kamran stepped around, moving until he stood in front of Ellena so she didn’t make good on that threat. “Come, my love. Let us take our leave. Blair, Amanda, Christian, by all means, please come to Ellena’s home later tonight. We have gifts to impart to you and your children. And bring Lela and Melissa as well.”
“What about our gifts?” Klara demanded, eyes rolling toward the ceiling.
“She just arrived,” Kamran said with a charming smile while gesturing to Ruth. “She will remain and we will give you all the space to enjoy her presence. I think that is your gift. We bid you peace.” He tossed up the sideways peace sign he’d seen Ellena throw up a few times.
Blair shared a speaking glance with Christian, who cracked up laughing.
“Kamran, do I say like … Sheikh, king, your highness or anything like that?” Blair asked, still trying to contain her laughter.
“You are family,” he answered. “Kamran is fine.”
“Do they have hospitals in Durabia that would hire surgical scrub techs from America?”
Kamran looked at Ellena for a moment and she nodded before he said, “I will see to it. You wish to work in Durabia?”
“With all this unnecessary drama, I think my immediate family needs a change and better opportunities,” Blair admitted, going to the foyer closet and retrieving several coats. “Sometimes I fear for my children’s safety. Little girls are coming up missing every day, and women too. And Christian’s been stopped by the police so many times we had to get a dash cam to protect him. I just don’t feel Chicago is safe for women, especially Black women. Actually, I don’t feel safe anywhere in America, given who’s in office for that matter.”
“So, you’re just going to up and leave here on some type of maybe?” Veda snarled. “How dumb is that? Those headrag-wearing folks. They ain’t no better. They kill people over there. Especially women. Get out of line and see what happens. Am I right, Kammy?”
“Kamran,” he corrected. “And Blair, just like my wife, will not be under Sharia Law. She will live in the Free Zone in the same locale as we do.”
“That’s what’s up,” Christian said. “Any room for brothers with brand management, graphic design, and photography skills? Chicago is becoming an interesting place for Black men. Actually, America in general is becoming an interesting place for all people to tell the truth, but we’re having a tougher time than most.”
“You are not going to the Middle East,” Melissa cried, with her eyes flashing defiance. “Who’s going to take care of me?”
“Mama, you can take care of yourself. If there are opportunities there for employment, then I need to try. At least we have someone who can guide us to the right places, and I can send money here to help take care of things. Then, when you’re comfortable, you can come and live with me.”
She took that in for a moment her expression more sorrowful than hopeful; and nodded as the rest of the family filed into the room; making the space tighter it already was.
“But who’s going to watch me come in late at night,” Melissa protested. “You’re always … you always come over when you know I’m going to make it in late. Sometimes you’re at my house when I get in just to make sure I’m safe. Do you know how wonderful that makes me feel?”
Christian embraced his mother. “Mama, I’ll have a flood light with a camera installed out back. And I’ll see you come in. It’ll even allow me to talk or say something to alert you that you’re in danger.” He embraced her as tears slid down her face. “It’ll be all right.”
Veda put a hand on her fleshy hips. “So this Arabian sand ni—”
“Hey,” Christian snapped. “Watch it. You don’t want folks calling us that, so don’t call him that.”
Klara’s lips curled into a snarl and finished with the words Veda meant to say. “Just walks up in here and takes our children like some Swami Pied Piper.”
“Did she just try to call me the N-word?” Kamran asked Blair, frowning. “I thought people aren’t supposed to say that?”
“Long story about some people using it,” Christian replied, glaring at Veda. “And she’s wrong for saying that about you,” Blair added.
Veda sauntered up to Kamran. “Well, if you’re going to take somebody, take the rest of us, too, partner. You’re rolling in it, you might as well make it a family affair.”
“The difference is, Blair and Christian asked for employment,” Ellena said, barely hanging on to her temper as she pushed herself between them. “You’re looking for a free ride on our dime and that will happen when hell freezes over and we can all ice skate across.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
A few months later, Ellena peered into the bathroom where Kamran was taking a shower and singing at the top of his lungs. “Are you in here belting out Luther?”
He cracked open the glass door, peered out, and gave her a sheepish grin.
“Oh, my word,” she said, doubling over with laughter. “Who have you been hanging out with?”
“Your brothers. They arrived yesterday for a series of meetings about the businesses they are establishing here.”
Ellena passed him a bath sheet from the metal warmer. “What kind of business?”
Kamran flipped through his mental Rolodex before he shared the extent of their recent projects. A rehab facility, a medical center focused on at-risk children, domestic violence and sex trafficking victim shelters, education centers focused on world economy and humanitarian service orientation. Then there was the fact that Kamran now had daily meetings with his father to discuss implementing some of the plans he had laid on the table. A great deal of them resulted in putting more money in Kamran’s account, as well as land ownership and intellectual property. His brothers were becoming increasingly jealous and concerned. But the Sheikh made sure that Kamran was fairly situated and compensated for his efforts—regardless of how anyone else felt. The only bone of contention was Ellena’s center for women. Ever since the property was purchased and she had started the process of rescuing women from El Zalaam, the men in his family were in an uproar. Kamran could care less.
“That’s amazing,” she said, narrowing her gaze on him. “So what else have they been up to?”
“I love their ideas, and I like Khalil. Dro and Daron are here working with the Knights. Two of the princes—scholars from a place called Excel—are supposed to come on Spring Break. They are going to prepare for having university level education here. They also brought in Hiram and Larry Tankson for martial arts training; and Daron and Dro are giving them weapons trainings. And I will as well.” He curled his arms about her. “I would like you to have weapons training.”
“Absolutely not,” was the beginning of a long, heated diatribe against the use of guns of any kind. Especially given what had happened with her sister, Amanda.
Kamran listened patiently and when she paused to draw a breath, he said, “Can I have my head back now?”
Ellena blew out a breath before squinting at him. “Who did you get that from?”
“Kaleb Valentine. Each of your brothers imparted valuable relationship advice on dealing with a Black woman as a mate. Kaleb warned that there will be times when you go off the deep end of the argument and I need to apologize and ask for my head back because you will have officially chopped it off. Verbally speaking.” He nodded, then smiled, obviously proud of himself for remembering.
She chuckled and said, “I’m sorry. I should not have gone off on you that way.”
“See? It works.” He left the seat and did a little Salsa and his smile was wider than the Durabia River.
“I am going to forbid you from being with my brothers.”
The dance halted and his smile instantly disappeared. “Do not do that.”
“You like them, huh?”
“They act more brotherly toward me than the ones related by blood.” Kamran stroked the tattoo Hiram Fosten had inked high up his wrists. “I admire who they are and what they stand for. Khalil …” He shook his head,
remembering the deep conversations he had with the man whose vision was nothing short of amazing. “If only my father would listen to him, Durabia would be on the path of being not only the epicenter of trade, oil, tourism, and medical advancements, we would be a world leader in peace.”
“World peace. I like the sound of that. He is an amazing man,” Ellena agreed.
“Yes, and he knows how to use a weapon, too,” Kamran slid in with a suggestive lift of his eyebrows.
“All right. All right. I will do it.”
“Thank you. And soon, please.” He frowned as he pulled her onto his lap and the towel slid lower around his waist. “Although, on second thought, you being able to handle a weapon might be a dangerous thing.”
She moved her hips in a circular motion. “Well, there’s one weapon I’m pretty good with.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“What in the entire hell?” Ellena shrieked loud enough to shake the hanging certificates in the doctor’s office.
“Pregnant?” Kamran said, slowly getting to his feet.
The doctor shrank back a little.
“My wife is pregnant?”
The woman pointed to the top of the page facing them. “Yes, your Highness, about three months along.”
“And this is not a game or a prank?”
“No, sir,” she answered him, her expression grave. “She is very much with child.”
Kamran’s shocked expression was reflected in Ellena’s as she patiently waited for him to question the paternity also. That seemed to be the norm when a man was shocked with such news, especially when he believed he couldn’t give a woman a child. Ellena had several bouts of nausea that resulted in multiple trips to the chamber and a loss of appetite, plus a little weight gain. Kamran insisted that she see a physician who ran tests.
He dropped down into the chair. “I’m not sterile?”
“Whoever made that original assertion, without testing your sperm, I might add, made a grave error,” Dr. Gupta said, narrowing her gaze on Kamran. “It could’ve been timing. Maybe pregnancies occurred and miscarried before you even realized. So many factors.”
“Or they could’ve been taking preventative measures to avoid one as well,” Ellena said.
“Not possible,” Dr. Gupta explained with a pointed look at Ellena. “Birth control is not allowed for Royals or women who are expected to produce children.”
“That is a misconception and I would appreciate if you would not perpetuate it any further,” Kamran said. “Due to the need for population control, Islam does permit the use of contraceptives to prevent pregnancy, to treat menstrual disorders, and to suppress menstrual flow that would prevent attendance at religious rituals. Only lately has the wrong belief that Islamic law prohibits contraception been spreading.” He shifted his focus to his wife. “Ellena, my love, how could you not know? Didn’t you—”
“No, my cycle has always had a mind of its own. If it came, fine, if it didn’t—no big deal. It’s not like I was whoring for a living and had to worry about it.”
The doctor’s lips lifted at the corners as Kamran grimaced.
“I’m not sterile,” he whispered. A smile spread on his face that was so wide she could stick a sail in it and push it off to sea. Then as though suddenly remembering she was in the room, he focused on her. “My love, how are you feeling about this?”
“I’m certainly not about to do cartwheels,” she replied, and didn’t think he realized that with this news, the five-year expiration date on their marriage had been unexpectedly extended—whether she wanted it to or not. “This won’t be an easy thing. I’m no spring chicken.”
“But you are no old cluck, either,” he countered with a tilt of his head.
She parted her lips to give a comeback, but said, “That was funny.”
“Will she be able to sustain a healthy pregnancy?” he asked, focusing on the doctor, who chuckled at their exchange. “I mean, how will this affect her health overall?”
“She’s in pretty decent condition.”
“What am I? A used car or something?” Ellena shot back, frowning.
“We have to watch her blood pressure and she’s borderline diabetic, which can become an issue as the months pass.” Dr. Gupta steepled manicured fingers under her angular face, then glanced down at the chart. “Any complications from your previous pregnancies?”
“No, it was pretty smooth going, considering I was carrying four.”
Dr. Gupta’s head whipped toward Ellena. “Four children? At one time?”
“Yes, quadruplets.” Ellena tore her gaze away from the doctor and focused on the garden right outside the window. “I have a genetic condition, a predisposition to hyper-ovulate, which means releasing multiple eggs in one cycle, which significantly increases the chance of having multiples. All of my sisters have it. My mother gave birth to eleven children. One son, ten girls, mostly twins and triplets.”
Dr. Gupta typed that information into the electronic chart. “That means more than likely you’ll carry more than one child this time as well.”
“Will that make things worse?” Kamran asked, taking Ellena’s hand in his. “Put more pressure on her body? How can we be sure that she is all right?” His hold tightened on her hand until she could almost feel his anxiety. “I do not wish to lose my wife because she is carrying my child—or my children.”
“We will monitor her very closely,” Dr. Gupta said, offering a reassuring smile.
“Pregnant,” he whispered and the slow smile that graced his face was worth withholding her real fears. Then his expression turned solemn. Here we go. The paternity question.
“You seem worried.”
“I am,” he admitted. “I do not think you understand.”
“Understand what?”
“Your pregnancy is going to turn the royal palace on its head. My whole life has changed because of this one factor …”
Seventeen years ago . . .
“My son, it is with a heavy heart that I must announce that Amir will be the next in line for the throne.”
Shocked gasps went up from every corner of the dining room.
Kamran’s fork paused midway to his mouth, his mind flipped through a number of scenarios. “Father, you could always appoint a successor after me.”
“Yes, but what message does it send to the Muslim world to have a king on the throne who is not virile? Unable to produce heirs of his own? We cannot be seen as weak,” he said, waving off the servant who tried to refill his glass. “It is regretful that this change is necessary, but Amir will ascend as crown prince and you will become my royal advisor.”
The world went into a mighty spin on its axis as Kamran tried to process this life-altering decision. The snide remarks, the not-quite-hidden laughter, the accusing eyes, the elation in the faces of his brothers’ wives—all registered at once. His father could have done this in private first before announcing this … demotion to everyone, including visiting royalty.
Kamran stood, tried hard to ignore the jeers and whispered conversations. He didn’t miss the joy in Amir, Laraib, Nadam, Salman, and Umar’s faces and knew they would be in a heated competition for their father’s favor. Kamran had two former wives, both of them believed to be barren until they were sent home and somehow produced several children with men who were not of a Royal line. His heart was so heavy at being rejected by his father as a result of what transpired with those two women of the Nadaum Kingdom, that he went to the men’s prayer room to communicate with God. “Allah, why has thou brought me to this place?”
“My son,” Farah whispered and lowered herself to his side, having entered a place forbidden to her and all women. “We never know what Allah plans for us. I know your life path was on the throne, but this actually gives you freedom.” She stroked his hair before trailing her hand down his face.
“But at what cost?”
“Your sanity,” she said. “You are no longer bound by the restrictions that come with being crowned. You
can live your life the way you desire. Do not look on this as a horrible measure.”
Kamran absorbed her words, but shame filled him all over again. He had failed his family and would never see Durabia realize the full potential he envisioned. “I love you, Mama. But right now, I cannot see the good in any of this.”
“You will, my son. You will.”
Dr. Gupta answered a call and when she replaced the receiver on the cradle, she said, “Your father has summoned both of you to the palace.”
“Yes, I am certain he has.” Kamran stood, knowing that the doctor had already done what was required—informing the palace that a new royal was on the way. “Just so that we are clear, if it harms her health, we will terminate the pregnancy. I can be without a child, but I will not be without my wife. Do you understand?”
Dr. Gupta blanched at the directive, which was totally against the norm. She was well aware that protecting the life of the mother was regarded as a lesser evil in deciding who lived and who died. The mother was the 'originator' of the fetus and her life was already well-established, while the fetus was merely a possibility of a life until it made it past the womb. Durabians also believed that the mother had duties and responsibilities to attend to when it came to her husband and family. And in many cases, allowing the mother to die would also kill the fetus.
Kamran leaned against the desk so his face was closer. “So that we are clear. If at any point, this pregnancy poses a danger to Ellena, it is my wife over my unborn children.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” she said, and her tone was filled with concern. “Are you certain?”
“Most definitely.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“That old camel is pregnant? Pregnant!” Faiza screamed. “Do you know how unbelievable that is?”
Their palace suite was in disarray. His wife had tossed nearly everything in her closet about the room. The place looked more like a bomb had been set off in her closet ,leaving an array of colors and garments strewn in every direction—the bed, the floor, the bathroom. He could barely see the intricate floral patterns in the purple and gold carpet.
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