child home, Yasmine,” he’d said.
“To Fort McMurray? Of course.” Where else had he thought she would go? At least there she knew her way around, had a job, a few friends.
“No, no,” he’d whispered, squeezing her fingers. “Home, to take his or her rightful place.”
She wouldn’t say either yes or no. Her habitual fear may have been rendered distant and weak by the pain of watching him slip away, but it still held sway.
Finally, wanting to understand, she’d asked, “Why would you put such a burden on our child, when you didn’t want it yourself?”
He’d shaken his head. “I would have carried the burden, but my need for you was far stronger than the need to fulfill my responsibilities to the country.”
He had been dying by then, so she hadn’t let loose the words gathering beneath her tongue, threatening to choke her if she didn’t spit them out.
He’d hated it all. His unpredictable, forbidding, controlling and manipulative mother. The constant rounds of royal protocol and living in a fishbowl. When he’d told her he was taking off, it hadn’t been couched as, I can’t live without you: run away with me. No, he told her he was leaving and asked if she wished to go.
Of course, she’d said yes.
At sixteen, she would have done anything for him.
Now he was trying to push her to take their child, her baby, back to a place where, if they believed Yasmine’s story, they’d take him or her away; probably imprison Yasmine too. Her father had some influence, but not enough to save her from the repercussions of that long-ago decision.
Perhaps it had been the cancer that had made Brian misremember, but Yasmine didn’t have the same problem. The palace had been a frightening place; Queen Nargis a despot. She was long dead now, but Yasmine knew nothing of the family who had ascended to the throne. Father had intimated things were better, both in governance and for the people, but she wouldn’t take the chance.
After all, her child would threaten their right to rule. Who knew what they might be willing to do to hold onto power?
And when it came out that her father had known where they were, his life might be endangered too.
No. Her child would have a normal existence. As good as she and Brian...
Mind stumbling over the thought, she cupped her belly, the stab of grief like a sword inserted, twisted.
It was just her. Brian was gone.
Now her pain underwent a metamorphosis, took her to a place of clarity.
Nothing was sure. Nothing was a given.
She abruptly sat up, opening eyes closed so long the sudden light was blinding.
“Nurse.” Her voice was wispy, a ribbon in a windstorm, but somehow it carried, as one of the nurses came bustling in.
“Are you in pain, Mrs. Haskell?” She immediately began checking the monitors.
“No. No. I need to see a social worker, right away.”
The nurse paused, and the sympathy in her eyes was obvious. Yasmine had vaguely heard them talking through the fog of her disconnect.
“Husband died yesterday...”
“She collapsed...”
“High-risk pregnancy to begin with...”
“First child, although she’s in her late forties...”
“Says there’s no next of kin...”
The nurses knew she was in a bad place, and this one made no effort to offer comforting platitudes or dissuade her.
“I’ll put the call in right away for you.” She eased Yasmine back against the pillows, and pulled the unnecessary blanket back up over her distended stomach. “You just relax. We’ll take good care of you.”
Was it a premonition, or just the aftereffects of watching Brian slide away from this world to the next? Yasmine didn’t know. All she could see was her baby, alone, with no one to care for him or her.
She wouldn’t let that happen.
And she wouldn’t let them take the baby back to Kalyana either.
BEYOND THE WINDOW of the hotel suite a flurry of mixed rain and ice pellets swirled, but although Dr. Farhan Alaoui gazed out through the glass, he wasn’t really paying attention to the weather.
This was a fool’s errand, and he the fool his father had chosen to go on it.
In years past, knowing how little regard his father had for him, Farhan would have simply refused to come to Canada, telling King Uttam to find another way to deal with the matter. It wouldn’t have been the first time, or even the hundredth time, they would have butted heads. The pattern had started from when Farhan was a child, and had only stopped ten years ago, when he’d left Kalyana for Australia, cutting off contact with his father, determined not to return until absolutely necessary.
Had his conscience bitten at him over the decision? Of course it had. He’d still been mourning Ali, trying to reconcile himself to being Crown Prince in his beloved brother’s place. The loss, along with his mother’s unassailable grief, which had made her pull even further away from her other two sons, had been excruciating. He hadn’t needed his father to intimate he was ill equipped to take on the role Ali had excelled at. Certainly hadn’t needed to be left with the feeling he would never do as well, so he may as well go back to school, finish his medical studies.
There was to be a referendum, the King said, looking down his nose at his son. If they were lucky, the people would decide to make Kalyana a republic, abolishing the monarchy.
Farhan had understood what his father hadn’t said outright.
If that were to happen, the island kingdom would be spared the inept and unprepared King that Farhan clearly would be.
Unfortunately for them all, the people had decided to keep the monarchy, and Farhan remained next in line to the throne. That was something he’d done his best to ignore, living in Australia as a normal person, working as a surgeon in a large hospital, until the night his younger brother Maazin had called to say their father had had a stroke.
Of course, he’d had to return then.
And he was a different person. More assured, ready to take on the responsibility he’d avoided for so long. A little less inclined to argue, or dig in his heels in the way he used to.
What he hadn’t been prepared for was his father’s tacit refusal to assist him in learning his new role.
Or being sent to Canada to track down the woman who should, by birthright, be the true
