if I can’t…c-conceive? What if you can’t father a baby? What then?”
He grimaced. “You’d still keep the jewels, don’t worry. But my fertility isn’t in question. If you turn out to be infertile, that would be grounds for an easy divorce, even with our culture’s constrictive royal matrimonial laws. Then I’d negotiate another marriage with the daughter of the second noblest patriarch of the Aal Shalaans.”
“Just like that, huh?” She hiccuped. “Throw out the defective model and look for a functioning one…”
She stopped, at breaking point. Just get out of here…now.
He let her go this time when she stumbled around, following her silently to the door. Just as she groped it open, he broke his silence, his words lodging into her back again.
“Tomorrow you will be taken to Judar. As is our custom, I won’t see you again until our marriage ceremony, but I will supply you with the list of things to be done, the rules to be followed.” Then his voice dipped into bass reaches on a growl eloquent with everything that splintered her heart. “Don’t disappoint me.”
Four
“I would have given anything if only I could take it back!”
At the blurted-out declaration, Aliyah’s gaze swept again over the woman sitting across from her. Judar’s afternoon August sun was streaming through the western window of Aliyah’s guest wing in the royal palace, turning the woman’s hair into a blazing halo of undulating gold, striking turquoise beams off her eyes and drenching the perfection of elegant, chiseled features in a play of light and shadow.
Anna Beaumont was sure one beautiful lady.
It made Aliyah sheepish to acknowledge that the first thing she’d done when she’d laid eyes on her an hour ago was to marvel at their resemblance.
But there was no denying the fact that this woman could be her in blue contacts and a blond wig, with some aging makeup. Not much aging, though. Anna didn’t look twenty-seven years older than her. Aliyah wouldn’t have thought her a day above forty, a real good forty, if all that DNA evidence hadn’t confirmed that Anna was her biological mother and therefore over fifty.
She wondered how King Atef had never noticed this.
But then, seeing a resemblance between his niece and the ex-lover he’d cast out of his life over a quarter of a century ago, especially with their opposite coloring, would have been a long shot.
When Anna didn’t follow up her momentous declaration, Aliyah sat forward and poured another round of unsweetened jasmine tea from the heavily worked silver teapot into the handpainted, blown-glass cups. The artistry behind their every line—more manifestations of the extremes of taste and affluence permeating the royal palace—roused the artist in her. It also sort of distracted her from the quiet, desperate feeling that she was sinking deeper into the quicksand of her situation, of Kamal’s plans and decrees and existence.
She handed Anna the cup and held her eyes as they both drank in silence, her thoughts turning inward, going over the past two days.
Everything Kamal had said would happen had and was still happening like clockwork. She’d been delivered to her condo after their showdown, with that royal guard duet coming up to help her pack. She’d resorted to threats to make them refrain from folding her underwear and alphabetizing every item, had tossed them out only for them to ricochet back to her doorstep before the crack of dawn to accompany her to the Judarian equivalent of Air Force One.
Kamal was giving her the royal treatment all right. Imposing it on her more like. He’d sent her a clipped voice mail driving home that this was what she should expect from now on as his future queen. He’d elaborated on how she should receive her dues, mete out her responses with the poise, benevolence and grandeur befitting her impending majesty. Yes, he’d used those very words. And was evidently still conscious and in the best of health.
Finding no energy and no point in resisting his incursion she’d let herself be swept away to her so-called future kingdom and installed in so sumptuous and extravagant a guest wing that it could have housed forty princesses. Then the list of things to be done that he’d provided for her had started to roll on.
First thing this morning was to have leisurely communications with three of her parents, informing them of her acceptance of the marriage of state and assuring them she’d play her part. With utmost attention to decorum, of course. As if.
She’d never treated those three in any way that wasn’t grounded in love and respect, even when their actions had almost messed her up for good, but she was damned if she’d stand on ceremony with any of them. Kamal had to be satisfied with what she was letting him have—control over these countdown days.
She’d finished her conversations with her parents—who’d all been mighty relieved, she should add—and without missing a beat had headed to her dictated afternoon tea with her fourth parent.
Kamal had had Anna flown in from King Atef’s court, where she must have been cause for some serious domestic disturbance. The queen—the woman who’d turned out to be Aliyah’s stepmother—was a master of dissatisfaction, unreasonableness and conflict. Aliyah could only imagine her attitude now that she had real strife material on her hands.
And here they were. An hour into the long-awaited meeting. A twenty-seven-year-long wait on Anna’s side, a two-week one on Aliyah’s, which still felt like a lifetime. Aliyah thought she would have recognized Anna if she’d met her on the street. And it went beyond the resemblance. There was this unmistakable…connection.
She bet Anna had felt the same from the first moment, but they’d both reached an instant and unspoken agreement to test the waters first. She’d felt that Anna was agitated within an inch of her sanity at the enormity of the situation. She, on the other hand, was…comfortably numb. Too many enormous shocks could do that.
So they’d talked about Judar, Zohayd, compared royal palaces, weathers, customs, currencies, reminisced about L.A., which they’d both lived in and now seemed to have left behind permanently.
Then Anna had blurted out that fraught statement.
Seemed she was ready to wade in deeper.
Not that she was finding it easier. She let go of Aliyah’s gaze, hers brimming as she stared down into her cup, choked out, “This sounds like so much exaggeration, like lip service, but I—I…I don’t know what I can say that won’t sound like…like…”
Aliyah put down her cup, invited Anna to look back at her with a gentle touch on her knee. “How about you say exactly what you’re thinking? Feeling? It would save a lot of confusion. We’ve run out of small talk so I guess it’s time for something big.”
Anna nodded, her eyes reddening even more. Then she inhaled, whispered, “Do you resent me…too much?”
Aliyah plopped back on the couch and glided both palms over the cotton-silk pastels damask as she considered her answer.
Then she sighed. “Okay, I won’t say I didn’t resent this. I did. I do. But it’s not you I resent. I don’t presume to judge you. I can only imagine what drove you to the decisions you made, and that it couldn’t have been easy or made your life better. When all is said and done, I can only say thank you.”
Anna blinked.
