they would soon be gone for ever.
He had done all he could to sever his ties to Rome, yet it felt as if his heart had been left there.
He looked up as his mother knocked at his open office door and he shook his head.
‘Not now,’ Alim said.
‘Yes, now,’ Rina said and came in.
He had always been polite—if a little distant—with others, though now he was stone cold.
The vast palace felt too small, and there was no company that he wished to keep.
Unless it was Gabi’s.
‘How are you, Alim?’
Alim didn’t even bother to lie and pretend that he was fine, he just gave a shrug. ‘I am trying to chase up the contracts for the Grande Lucia. I think I might need to make a trip to Italy.’
‘When?’
‘Soon,’ Alim said.
He would be courting temptation if he went back this weekend, Alim knew, yet he had to see Gabi.
‘I have just held the morning meeting with your father. He thinks that a wedding would cheer Yasmin up.’
‘I am not going to marry to provide a remedy for my sister’s mood.’
‘What about your mood, Alim?’ Rina said. ‘You are not happy.’
‘No,’ he admitted. ‘But I do not need to be happy to do my work.’ And there was indeed work to be done so he gestured for his mother to take a seat. ‘Kaleb’s thirtieth is coming up...’
But his mother was not here about that. ‘I am concerned, Alim. I thought once you were home you might be happy, but it has been months now...’
‘I love my land.’
‘Yet you make no commitment to remain here?’
‘You mean a bride?’ Always the conversation led back to that. ‘A bride is not the solution.’
‘Then tell me the problem.’
‘No.’
He did not share his thoughts, let alone his feelings, with others. In fact, until recently he had refused to examine them.
Life had always been about duty and work and solving problems logically.
Now, for the first time in his life, he could not come up with a solution to the dilemma he faced.
‘Alim,’ his mother implored. ‘Speak to me.’
He did not know how to start.
‘I might understand,’ Rina insisted.
Yes, she just might, Alim thought, for there was no doubt that hers was a loveless marriage.
‘Just before the diktat was invoked I met someone,’ Alim said, but, even as he explained things, he knew that wasn’t quite right. ‘I have liked her for a couple of years but I always stayed back. Things got more serious just before I was summoned home. I left her without any real explanation and when I returned to Rome the other month...’
He didn’t finish. Alim could not explain the sadness in Gabi’s eyes, neither did he want to reveal the ache in his heart and the regret for the year together that had been denied them.
Alim knew it could never have been more than a year; his father would never give his approval to Gabi.
No, his bride would be from Zethlehan. In fact, his father had whittled it down to the final three—the one who would uphold tradition and best serve the country, and was deeply schooled in their ways, would be Oman’s choice.
‘I am thinking of going to Rome to see her.’
His mother was quiet for some considerable time and when she spoke her voice was strained and laced with fear. ‘Have you broken the diktat, Alim?’
‘No.’
He heard his mother breathe out in relief. ‘That’s good, then.’
‘How can it be good?’
All that mattered to them was that he abided by the rules, no matter the cost to himself.
‘There is a desert out there, Alim,’ Rina said, and he stood and looked out the window; the reproach in his voice was aimed at himself, for of course he had considered it.
‘Gabi will not be coming to the desert. She would never even entertain the thought.’
‘She does not have to reside there,’ Rina said. ‘She could visit now and then and once you are married, once you have an heir...’ It was a difficult conversation to have. ‘Well, then the rules relax.’
And he threw his mother a look. ‘Do you think I would do to my wife what my father did to you?’
The poorly kept secret was finally being discussed.
‘I would never impose a loveless marriage on a bride,’ Alim said, and then he closed his eyes because that was exactly what it would be, and the reason that, despite mounting pressure, still he refused marriage. ‘I hate how you have been treated,’ Alim told his mother.
He thought of them smiling on the palace balcony or waving and chatting as they arrived at a function.
Then the relative silence that would descend when they returned to their private lives—his mother would retreat to her wing, his father to his.
‘Do I look unhappy, Alim?’ Rina asked.
He looked over. No, her features were relaxed and, as she often did, Rina smiled her gentle smile.
‘You barely communicate,’ Alim pointed out, but his mother shook her head. ‘I have just come from a meeting with your father—we have one each working day.’
Alim accepted that, but that was for the running of the country—a private life between them did not exist. ‘You sleep in a separate wing of the palace.’
‘And we do so at my request,’ Rina said. ‘Alim, I love my country. Growing up, I always knew that I would likely be chosen and that I would one day be queen. I did my duty, I had three beautiful children who I have raised well; I continue to work hard for my country and I live a very privileged life.’
Rina knew she needed to say more.
Oh, she was very schooled in the rules, and had studied them closely.
Yes, Zethlehan was progressive in many ways, for all needs were served.
Save love, for it was not taken into consideration in the rules.
Still, it was a delicate topic and Rina took a moment to consider before she spoke on. ‘Alim, just because I don’t have a loving
