by Tara Pammi
Had she been so lost in her own fears that she hadn’t even heard a single voice?
Her heart pounded so loudly that for a few minutes all she could hear was the thundering beat of it in her ears. She felt her face heat as a sound escaped her mouth. One by one, the faces turned, the hushed whispers died down, shock and astonishment and even disapproval at her presence marring the strange faces.
For a dizzying second, Nikhat thought she would collapse under the weight of her own anxiety. Run, move, hide.
Her brain was issuing the standard flight responses, triggering fear in her, because she was standing outside the prince’s wing, a wing that was forbidden to women, at the crack of dawn, her hair flowing behind her, clad in nothing but an old caftan and leggings, her eyes red-rimmed with the tears she had shed, her mouth and neck still bearing the evidence of his kisses.
And behind all of them, sitting in a gold-edged armchair covered in red velvet, his dark gaze calmly observing her, without anger, without any expression, really, was Azeez.
He looked forbidding, cold, a distant stranger, not at all the man she knew so intimately.
His gaze found hers the exact second hers found his. And still she did not turn around, she didn’t fake confusion and flee as her rational mind was urging her to. She couldn’t even look away from him.
She heard Ayaan’s voice in a distant corner of her functioning mind, ordering them all to leave, she heard the room empty, she saw realization dawn on some faces that recognized her and curious disapproval on others that didn’t. But it was all only on the periphery of her consciousness, almost as if it was happening to another poor deluded woman. Because, he, the dark Prince of Dahaar, he was at the center of her world, as he had always been.
She stepped in and closed the doors behind them. There was still no reaction in his face. He didn’t blink, he didn’t acknowledge her by the flicker of a muscle.
He only stared at her, an icy chill in his gaze, a remote set to his mouth, and that was when finally Nikhat began to worry.
She stopped when she neared him. Her shawl had fallen away long ago, leaving her in the thin cotton caftan separating her bare skin from his gaze.
And still, in the nothingness of his expression, in the riot of fear and worry that filled her, still, an electric charge danced between them.
There was nothing else to do but speak her mind, put her greatest fear into words. She stood in front of him, like his prisoner waiting for judgment.
“You have shown yourself to them,” she said, standing awkwardly, her entire body trembling.
“As have you,” he said, looking up at her, his gaze still inscrutable. “What will happen to your reputation, your dream, your clinic now?”
There was no threat in his words, implied or unsaid, but it was the utter lack of anything else that sent a shiver zigzagging across her spine. It was unbearable that he freeze her out like this, unbearable to be in front of him and see a stranger.
A fierce churning began in her stomach, but she held it off.
No, he wouldn’t, he couldn’t be angry with her over this, it was not acceptable to her. She had to get them through this, he would understand why, he would see how much she loved him, how much it hurt to be away from him, how much a part of her permanently froze every time she left him.
This time she didn’t want to go, she didn’t want to break her heart again.
“You will not let any harm come to my reputation, or my dream.”
With a soft grunt, he rose to his feet. The smile that curved his mouth chilled her to the core. It was full of such resignation that she would never forget it. “You trust me now? When you didn’t trust me with the biggest truth of our lives?”
She clasped his hands, her own frightfully cold. He still did not sound angry and it was the very lack of that anger that scared her. Hours ago he had been angry when he made love to her. Now it felt as if there was just an icy disdain that she couldn’t reach. “I did it for you, Azeez. They said…the chances of me conceiving were next to nil. That even if I went off my medication and tried, there would be no guarantees.
“That last trip to New York, the doctor performed a surgery immediately to remove some of the lesions.
“When I came back, I was so alone, so scared. I wanted to tell you, I wanted to howl. Then…my father said your coronation was imminent. And my heart shattered.
“I barely felt like a woman and to be your wife, to be the queen…But I still came to see you. And you—” tears spilled over her cheeks “—you were so excited. You said you couldn’t wait to follow in your father’s footsteps, that you couldn’t wait to add your own stamp to the Al Sharif history, that you couldn’t wait to create a legacy your heir, and your children, would want to carry forward.
“You needed a queen, you needed a wife who would give you sons, you needed a woman whose presence by your side would add strength to your rule, to your regime.”
She hiccuped and wiped her hands over her cheeks. “You were vibrant, charming, a prince of the world. I…I already was nothing compared to you. It was an uphill battle for us both. Then to find that I might never conceive, that I was broken at the one thing you did need from me…I broke my own heart.”
He grabbed her then, his fingers digging into her flesh. “Don’t you dare call yourself broken.”
“But I am. I spent my whole life seeing my father, an average aide to the royal family, disappointed again and again that he had no son. My mother knew the risks she was taking on her health and yet she had one child after another.
“An educated man like Richard…he knew all about my condition, he said he was fine with it…except when he decided he wanted children. It hurt so much to face that reality, to be denied my chance at happiness just because…God, if that had happened with you, if it was your resentment I would have to see every day, or even worse, if you had to take another wife for an heir, it would have killed me, it—”
“How dare you compare me to another man, how dare you extrapolate my feelings like I was an object of science? You don’t know what I would have said or done. I was an honorable man. I would have loved you. I would have found—”
“You think I doubted your intentions?” It was her turn to shout. Her throat was raw, her eyes stung. But beneath it all, fear fisted her chest. “I trusted your word, your love, Azeez. I just couldn’t put that choice in front of you. You would have hated me later, resented me for that choice. I couldn’t bear the idea of it. I couldn’t—”
He pulled her to him, his arm gentle around her. She felt his breath blow over her hair, felt the shudder that went through him. “You broke my heart, Nikhat, and you didn’t even tell me the truth. You only thought of yourself.”
His palms on her shoulders, he pushed her until he could look into her face. And the loss she saw there, it said everything he didn’t say. “I love you, Azeez. I don’t remember a moment of my life when I didn’t.”
“Do you know the meaning of the word? Even if I could understand why you didn’t tell me all those years ago, what about the last few weeks? I bared everything to you, I let you see me at my darkest. All you did was protect yourself even as you made love with me. Was it your pride or your love that led you to hide the truth even then?”
“I’m sorry, Azeez. I am here now, I will be yours in any way you want me.”
Any hint of softening she had seen vanished, leaving those eyes of his empty again. He had never felt more unattainable, more out of the reach of her heart. “Because now you think I’m as damaged as you are?”
She flinched, as if he had slapped her, as if he had called her very soul into question. And she realized what she had done. “I have never thought that, not for a second.”
“You were right. If I had married you then, we would have destroyed each other with doubts and insecurities. And now, now there�
��s nothing but bitterness of the past, Nikhat, nothing but broken and impossible dreams between us.
Maybe we never were worthy of each other.”
He turned away from her, and his retreat was final, his withdrawal leaching away every ounce of warmth from the room. “You will leave the palace tomorrow. There will be a new obstetrician for Princess Zohra.
“No one will dare to talk about seeing you here, no one will dare point a finger in your family’s direction. Not after the service you have done for us. Or they will face the crown’s wrath.
“You will have your clinic. You will be back with your sisters. Thank you for everything you have done for me, Nikhat. I release you from your promise.”
* * *
Only a few days had passed when Azeez learned that his parents were back in Dahaara, in the palace. And yet it felt as if it had been an eternity since he had taken the decision that would dictate the rest of his life.
That was already dictating it now.
Running both hands through his hair, he drew a shuddering breath as the guard announced his arrival in their private suite.
He pushed the doors open and breathed in relief as he saw Ayaan and Zohra also waiting. He had made the right decision. But he still needed Ayaan’s support in this moment.
Grief, and pain and so much more that he couldn’t sift through, it all rose inside him like the wave of a tsunami as he reached his mother.
And the pain he saw in her eyes, the aching hunger as she studied him, that she quickly covered up with a quiet dignity, the piercing hesitation in her smile, it lanced through him. God, how selfish he had been to rob her of this joy in the wake of everything she had borne, how foolish to rob himself of the warmth and understanding that stole through him.
Reaching for her hands, he tugged her up, tears now running down his cheeks freely. “Will you ever forgive me?”
A cry burst free from her mouth as she hugged him hard, her tears soaking through his tunic. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her through the wracking sobs that shook her fragile frame, whispered apologies and promises, and finally felt his world finding some kind of peace.
“I knew it. And after all these years, too… Do you see this, Zohra?” Ayaan quipped.
Her mouth wreathed in smiles, Zohra turned to him. “What?”
“He’s still her favorite. I don’t remember her hugging me that hard when I came back,” he finally explained, and laughter rippled through the room.
Meeting his brother’s gaze, Azeez offered a nod of thanks. He owed his brother everything and he was determined to spend his life taking every burden away from him.
This was how it had been, his family. It had been his strength, his joy. Amira was gone, but she would always have a place in their hearts. His gaze fell on Princess Zohra and the happiness he saw there.
And he felt heartened by it.
Even with his heart cold in his chest, he still had so much in the world to live for. He placed a kiss to the top of his mother’s head, the scent of her calming him.
Wiping her hands over her cheeks, his mother smiled at him. “I have my sons back.” She turned toward his father, the regal dignity that had always been her strength inching back into her shoulders. “More than I ever hoped for.”
Turning toward his father, Azeez clasped his hands, saw the toll the past few years had taken on him. It was time for him to shoulder that burden, time for his father to rest. No matter that he was burying his own heart in the process.
When Azeez tried to speak, his father shook his head. “Let us leave the past where it is, Azeez. You’re here now and prepared to aid your brother in serving Dahaar. That’s all I’ve ever asked of you and Ayaan.”
Azeez knelt in front of his king, the man who had taught him everything he knew, the man whom he had always looked up to. And felt the rightness of what he was about to say, knew that the woman he loved, would always love, would be proud of the man he had finally become again.
“If you and Mother will allow me, and if it’s acceptable to Ayaan, I will spend the rest of my life doing what I was born to do, what you have prepared me for all my life, Father. I am ready to be king, ready to be Dahaar’s servant for the rest of my life.”
The shocked gasp from his mother, the unconventional and totally characteristic shout of joy from Princess Zohra, the sheen of tears in his father’s eyes, the glint of shining pride in Ayaan’s eyes as he reached Azeez and enfolded him in a tight hug, it flew through Azeez, lending him the strength he needed.
His father’s simple yes reverberated in the room, and through the congratulations that followed the rest of the day, through the very joy and celebrations that began to pervade the palace, through his brother’s concerned questions about Nikhat and him, Azeez kept a smile on his face and swallowed his own heartache.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
NIKHAT WASHED HER hands at the sink in the attached bathroom of her clinic and grabbed a hand towel. Even though the building for her new clinic was air-conditioned and she had been back in Dahaar for a few weeks now, she wasn’t used to the blistering heat of the day yet.
Making sure her hair stayed in her braid, she shied away from the mirror quickly, refusing to give in to the chasm of self-pity that was just waiting to drag her down.
She walked back into her consulting rooms. After almost a month, it still caught her breath every time she looked around and realized she was living her dream.
The new clinic was more than anything she had hoped for, in scope and breadth, thanks to the Princes of Dahaar.
It had been a month since she had left the palace…or rather she had been, with the utmost respect, kicked out. She had not let herself sit down for a minute, would not let herself stop even for a second.
When night came, she fell into exhausted sleep after being on her feet nonstop for twelve to thirteen hours. There were interviews she was conducting to find more qualified personnel—nurses, even midwives, not necessarily with the highest credentials, but the ones that most of the population in Dahaara trusted.
There was inventory to be organized and sorted every day, medical supplies to be distributed. Not that any resource that she needed had been left out.
From an administrator for the clinic to oversee bureaucratic roadblocks she came across everywhere she turned, to a finance manager who had access and control over the fund that the royal family had set up for the clinic, from a twenty-year-old woman who was pursuing her degree in health care and was putting together educational material, pamphlets, even booklets to spread word about the clinic, to an elderly woman who brought lunches and coffee for the staff…every little detail had been sorted out.
All Nikhat needed was to finalize the candidates—which was proving the hardest, because qualified female doctors, ones that families would feel comfortable about sending the women of their families to, were hard to find.
She got a thrill every time she saw her name plaque outside the building. So what if, at the same time, she felt as if there was a hole in her chest? So what if she caught a spasm of such intense longing in the middle of the day that she thought she would never smile again?
The one thing she did wish she could do was tune out the world around her. It was hard enough, every second of every day, to push back the realization that he was just a few miles away in the palace and yet he had never been farther from her.
It was a month in which every day she felt her heart breaking again, in which Dahaar and its people had exploded with the news that Prince Azeez bin Rashid Al Sharif was alive and back in Dahaara.
Clutching the cold metal surface of her desk, she swallowed back the dizzying whirl of grief that rose through her. If she gave in to one tear, she was afraid she would not stop.
“Nikhat?”
She whirled around and saw Princess Zohra standing
at the entrance to her office, security guards hovering behind her. Drawing in a deep breath, Nikhat smiled. “Princess Zohra, please come in. You could have just summoned me to the palace if you—”
She caught herself as the princess dismissed the guards and closed the door behind her. Neither Princess Zohra, nor even Ayaan, could summon Nikhat to the palace.
Nikhat’s name was not to be mentioned in the palace, not even her shadow was to be near it. That was the condition Azeez had laid out in front of his brother, Ayaan had told her, his face pinched.
Azeez Al Sharif did nothing in half measures. His rejection of her was as absolute as his love for her had been.
Even though still in her second trimester, Zohra was already big, and the strain showed on her fragile features. Hurrying to the other side of the desk, Nikhat pulled out a chair for her. Drawing a loud breath, Zohra shook her head.
“I would rather stand. All I do these days seems like sitting around, waiting for people to arrange my day, and my life.
“Now that King Malik and Queen Fatima are back, even my body is not my own. Queen Fatima is driving me crazy with her advice, her rituals, hovering over me. She won’t let Azeez or me out of her sight, checking on us every few hours. Ayaan said he is beginning to feel like the ignored middle child.
“How I wish you were back there, Nikhat. The new ob-gyn is terrified of the queen and agrees to everything she proposes. Queen Fatima actually forbade me from visiting Siyaad, from seeing my sister and brother, and the stupid woman just nodded.
“I finally had to threaten Ayaan that I would leave for Siyaad and have the babies there unless he lets me see you here. I will come to you every few days, Nikhat. That way, you can check my progress and I get away from the blasted palace for a few hours. Ask your administrator to call my assistant. I’m sure my being your patient can be used to spread the word about the clinic. And if there’s an emergency at the palace, that woman can tend to me. Will you still handle my delivery?”
