surrealism said, ‘I, Niesha Zalwani, take you, Zufar al Khalia, to be my husband.’
Shock waves rippled through the crowd, echoed outside the palace as the true identity of the bride was revealed. Through it all, Zufar kept his gaze fixed, haughty, regal and straight-ahead.
‘Proceed,’ he commanded the cloaked cleric.
To his credit, the old man did not hesitate. He recited reams of archaic, binding words.
And a mere half an hour later, Niesha was officially wed to the King of Khalia.
A THREE-MINUTE STATEMENT was issued by the official press secretary on behalf of Sheikh Zufar al Khalia immediately following the ceremony. That was all it took for the strange tale of the swapped bride to turn the atmosphere from scandalised confusion into roars of elation.
By the time Niesha stood beside Zufar’s side on the royal balcony above the Imperial Ceremonial Room, the whole kingdom was in a romantic frenzy. Social media went into meltdown at the idea that the King had followed his heart and married the bride of his choosing rather than the one arranged for him. The media, searching for dissenting views, had only been met with romantic sighs and tales about star-crossed lovers.
The little Niesha managed to catch only added to the surrealism of the whole thing.
A five-minute lesson in wedding protocol instead of the usual weeks of tutoring was all she’d been granted in between leaving the wedding ceremony and arriving on the balcony.
She was to stand to the right of her new husband, not the left. Her arm was never to rise above shoulder level when she waved to the crowd. And while she was allowed to show her teeth when she smiled, her demeanour should not in any way exhibit raucousness. Terse instructions whizzed through her brain, the dos and don’ts of being the new Queen streaking like lightning across her senses.
‘Look straight ahead and smile,’ Zufar instructed calmly. ‘I believe this is the moment when you should go to your happy place and think positive thoughts.’
With everything that had unfolded in the last few hours, Niesha was terrifyingly close to succumbing to hysteria. Lately, her happy place had been curling up with a book beside the fire in her tiny bedsit on the borders of the palace grounds. Oh, how she wished she were there now. Anywhere but here, where a million eyes gawked shamelessly, and the guests of honour who were no longer bothering to keep their voices down openly speculated as to how she had come to be in these particular shoes.
‘My happy place?’ she murmured. ‘I don’t think that’s a very good idea.’
Even though she’d kept her voice low, he heard her, and cast her a brief but hard glance.
‘Why not?’ he enquired. ‘Isn’t that what women do when they wish to escape their troubles?’ There was a bitter undertone that pulled her up short but his face displayed the same neutral mask he’d worn since the moment they were announced as husband and wife, and had turned to face their honoured guests.
‘I’m not sure I know what you mean,’ Niesha said.
‘That’s not important right now. All I care about is that you do not project anything other than utter bliss to find yourself in this position. Remember, the whole world is watching.’
He probably believed he was helping. This was his way of supporting her through an impossible situation. All Niesha could take in at that moment was the pounding of her heart and the boisterous jubilation of the crowd as they waved their flags and screamed congratulations across the royal park where they were gathered.
‘Do your best. That is all I ask,’ Zufar muttered. ‘It would please me greatly if you did it now, however. The others are joining us.’
That was all the warning she had before the doors behind them parted and the rest of his extended family flooded onto the balcony to join them.
Galila slid into place beside her, while his brother, Malak, took his position next to Zufar. Aunts, uncles, nieces and nephews slotted into their allotted positions and acknowledged the crowd with regal waves and salutes honed into place since childhood.
While each and every one of them cast lingering looks her way.
Niesha felt thankful, for the briefest moment, that Zufar had kept her by his side. One bold relative had attempted to pry out the reason behind his last-minute change in brides. Zufar had responded with a stern rebuke for him to mind his own business.
‘I will call a family gathering as soon as I have a moment to spare. But do not hold your breath. I intend to be occupied for a while with my new bride.’
His uncle had retreated with his chastised tail between his legs, while Niesha was left blushing furiously. Word had quickly spread that Sheikh Zufar was not to be questioned on the subject of his bride. Not today at least.
‘I suppose congratulations are in order,’ Galila murmured.
‘Thank you,’ Niesha replied.
‘I would love to know how this interesting outcome transpired,’ Galila continued. ‘I mean, I left you a maidservant. Two hours later, you’re my sister-in-law. Not that I don’t love a riveting story, but this—’
‘Watch it, Galila,’ Zufar warned beneath his breath, his hands positioned strategically in front of his face as he waved.
Galila easily maintained her graceful smile as she looked at her brother. ‘What?’ she asked softly. ‘So sue me if I’m dying to know what happened. One minute I was attempting to locate your elusive bride-to-be and the next I seem to have acquired a new sister-in-law altogether. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I’d slipped and fallen into a reality TV show.’
‘Enough,’ Zufar growled. ‘Don’t forget there are lip-readers out there. If there’s discussion to be had, we will get to it later. For now, remember where you are.’
Beside him, his brother Malak snorted under his breath. ‘If you wanted us to behave, brother, you shouldn’t have offered us this salacious piece of adventure on your wedding day. If you’re trying to get into the history books, then bravo. No one will forget this day in a hurry.’
The only hint that Zufar wasn’t in complete control of his emotions was the small tic that throbbed at his temple. He continued to wave and acknowledge the crowd, and even at one point slid his hand around the Niesha’s waist as the royal military jets flew overhead.
Niesha was thankful for the deafening roar of the jet engines, as it swallowed the gasp that travelled through her body when his hand settled on the curve of her waist. Besides the moment when he’d helped her off the floor, and the moment he’d slid the wedding ring onto her finger, Zufar hadn’t touched her.
She’d been very thankful for that, she told herself, despite the humiliating stone lodged in her stomach when he’d lifted her veils and promptly stepped away without executing the customary newly-wed altar kiss.
But now, with his touch searing through the folds of the wedding gown right into her skin, Niesha couldn’t suppress the tingles that swarmed her body. The smile she’d pinned to her face froze as her every sense
