by Kristi Gold
* * *
At one time, Rafiq would have welcomed seeing his onetime closest friend. But after learning from Zain that Shamil was still attempting to thwart the conservation project, he was anything but pleased over his unexpected appearance. “I believe our meeting was scheduled at 4:00 p.m. at the palace.”
“And I believe this meeting cannot wait.”
When Shamil entered the villa without a proper invitation, both guards immediately moved forward to follow him. Rafiq raised a hand to halt their progress. “Remain here. I will notify you if you are needed.”
He returned inside to discover Shamil had made himself at home in a chair across from the divan. “Please, sit down on my sofa, Rafiq.”
Rafiq complied and assumed a relaxed position, though he was anything but relaxed at the moment. “Your insistence upon calling me by my given name is an act of subordination. I will forgive you this time in light of our shared past.”
He stroked his graying beard as if it were a cherished pet. “I am sorry to say I cannot forgive you for seducing my sister. But then I suppose she was an easy target.”
The true reason behind the visit had become all too clear. “I refuse to discuss Maysa with you.”
Shamil crossed his legs and folded his hands together in his lap. “Perhaps then we should discuss the other woman formerly in your life, until you drove her to an untimely death.”
Rafiq clung to the last thread of restraint. “I will not speak to you about Rima, either.”
“Then I will speak to you about her. I know everything about your sham of a marriage, Rafiq. Every last detail. Who do you think she told about her misery over being wed to the likes of you?”
He momentarily rejected that notion, until he recalled Rima mentioning having lunch with Shamil a few weeks before her death. “I am aware you and Rima maintained your friendship and that you spoke to her on more than one occasion. We were all friends at one time.”
“Friends?” Shamil barked out a caustic laugh. “You were never Rima’s friend. You were her captor and she, your prisoner.”
Rafiq had begun to suspect Shamil knew much more than he had initially believed. “We were bound by a contract made a long time ago. Rima accepted her role as queen and my wife.”
Shamil leaned forward and sneered. “Let me ask you something. Did it disturb you to learn you were not Rima’s first lover?”
A repeat of the conversation he had had with Adan a few days before. “What Rima did before our wedding was immaterial to me. I only asked that she remain faithful after we exchanged vows.”
“Were you faithful?”
“I was.” Though he had been tempted a time or two during the year following their marriage. Yet he had never acted on that temptation.
“Perhaps physically true to her,” Shamil said. “But not mentally. You have always lusted after my sister.”
“You know not of what you speak.” A false denial, but Shamil did not deserve the truth.
“When you were forcing Rima to do your bidding in bed to produce another arrogant Mehdi, were you not imagining driving your sambool into Maysa?”
It took all Rafiq’s strength not to wrap his hands around Shamil’s throat. He settled for a curse. “Ibn il sharmuta!”
Shamil appeared only mildly insulted. “Please leave my mother out of this. She was a good woman. Unfortunately, Maysa does not appear to have inherited that goodness. She has brought nothing but shame to our family, first by divorcing her husband, and now by allowing you to bed her.”
He refused to acknowledge any intimacy between him and Maysa. He would definitely address Maysa’s ruthless ex-husband. “Do you know what Boutros Kassab did to her? Are you aware of the torture he inflicted upon her? Or do you have so little regard for Maysa that you do not care?”
Shamil did not seem the least bit disturbed, leading Rafiq to believe the latter held true. “Maysa has always been prone to exaggeration. I am certain the accusations she leveled against Boutros were overblown.”
Having his conjecture confirmed, Rafiq’s hatred burned bright for this man whom he once considered a confidant. “At one time I greatly respected you, Shamil. Now I see that you are nothing more than a power-hungry, misguided man without a conscience. It is no wonder you have not found a suitable wife. No woman would dare tie themselves to you.”
His smile was cynical. “Your wife did not feel that way, Rafiq. Had she not been bound to your contract, she would have been with me. In fact, she was. Many times when you left her alone to travel. Did you not wonder why she always chose to stay behind?”
He had never questioned her reluctance to travel, nor had he objected to the decision. “She had duties to oversee at the palace.”
“She had an aversion to spending time with you. And for your information, I was Rima’s first lover, and I was her last.”
“You are a liar.”
“It is not a lie. She came to me that fateful night when you ordered her out of the palace. She told me you arranged for her transportation and threatened to take your child away from her.”
Rafiq now realized he spoke the truth. “That proves nothing other than she came to you seeking advice.”
“She came to me seeking comfort, which I gladly gave to her in my bed. If you require further confirmation, ask my sister.”
He had erroneously believed the shocking secrets were over. “What does Maysa have to do with this?”
“She saw Rima and I together in this very place that night.”
If Shamil spoke the truth, Rafiq did not understand why Maysa had withheld the information. He intended to find out, but first he must deal with the turncoat before him. “I could have you hanged for this.”
Shamil appeared unmoved by the threat. “Yet you will not do that. I hold the power to halt the conservation project, as well as destroy your standing with your people. Once they learn you demanded the queen leave her rightful home, subsequently leading to her death, they will not be quick to forgive you.”
Rafiq inherently knew that to be true, but he would not give Shamil the satisfaction of an admission. He would present a defense for his actions. “The people are aware Rima’s death was an accident, and I do not need your vote to see the project to fruition since I have the majority of council’s support.”
“Then consider this. Should word leak out that you have taken a scorned woman as your mistress, then you will take Maysa down with you. Since the day you appointed me health minister, I began to make many contacts in the medical field. I will make certain she is stripped of her hospital privileges and quite possibly her license to practice.”
Rafiq glared at him. “You would have to show cause to do that. An unfounded rumor of an affair is not cause.”
“Ah, yes, but it is amazing how a proof of physician’s grave mistakes can suddenly surface, whether they are founded or not.”
His patience now in tatters, Rafiq shot from the sofa and pointed at the door. “Get out.”
Shamil’s ensuing laugh sounded sinister. “You are ordering me out of my own establishment?”
“Yes, and if you do not leave, I will have you forcefully removed by my guards and have you escorted to the airport. They are very loyal to me, and I have no control over what they might do on the way. A man would have a difficult time surviving in the mountains without supplies, clothes and transportation.”
He saw the first sign of fear in Shamil’s eyes. “You would not dare give that order, as you would be the primary suspect.”
No, he would not, yet he would allow Shamil to believe otherwise. “It is amazing how people mysteriously disappear. Since in all likelihood no one has been made privy to our meeting, and since it is well-known you are currently living in Yemen, you would not be missed for quite some time.”
Shamil finally stood, strode
to the door and opened it. But before he exited, he faced Rafiq again. “When you see Maysa, give my whore of a sister my fondest regards.”
On the heels of his fury, and driven by absolute betrayal, King Rafiq Mehdi, who had always prided himself on control, strode across the room, drew back his fist—and centered it in the middle of Shamil Barad’s face.
Nine
Maysa arrived in time to see Rafiq deliver the blow that sent her brother back against one stone column bracing the portico. She watched in horror when the guards restrained Rafiq as he went after Shamil, who used that window of opportunity to throw a punch. The impact to his jaw snapped Rafiq’s head back and split the corner of his mouth. Two more sentries appeared from across the road, grabbed Shamil and wrenched his arms behind his back.
Shock kept Maysa momentarily planted in place, until she came around and found the wherewithal to retrieve her medical bag from the backseat. She rushed toward Rafiq, only to be restrained by the bodyguard who had kept Rafiq from mostly doing serious damage to Shamil.
“Unhand her!” Rafiq shouted and then swiped his shirtsleeve across the trickle of blood seeping from the laceration.
“Did he break my nose, Maysa?” Shamil asked, stopping her progress.
She took a quick glance at the wound. “Yes, it looks broken. They’ll take care of it at the emergency room.”
“You will not treat it?”
“No, I will not.”
“Sharmuta!”
“Perhaps I am a bitch, but at least I fight fairly.”
“Take him to the hospital,” Rafiq ordered the guards.
For some reason Shamil looked terrified. “I will drive myself.”
“You will remain in custody until I decide what I will do in regard to your assault on the king.”
“And you will make certain I arrive at the hospital safely?”
Maysa could not believe he was being such a sniveling child. “I will call ahead and inform them you’re coming.” That would be the only favor she would grant him.
As the security detail began tugging him toward one of the cars, Shamil turned a hateful glare on Rafiq. “Remember what we have discussed, Your Majesty.”
Rafiq muttered an Arabic oath as he turned and strode back into the villa before Maysa could get to him. She followed him even knowing she could very well be walking into a hornet’s nest, with the king serving as the head hornet.
After she closed the door behind her, Maysa came upon Rafiq restlessly circling the living area, his hands balled into fists as if he would like to hit something else. “Look, Rafiq,” she began, “I know you’re most likely angry with me—”
“I am not angry with you,” he said without looking at her. “I am angry at myself for not maintaining control. For being such a fool and a failure.”
“Who have you failed?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.
He finally looked at her, the weight of the kingdom in his eyes. “My wife, and now you.”
She set her bag aside on the coffee table, hoping to eventually put it to good use when she treated Rafiq’s cut. If he let her treat it. “You and Rima failed each other, Rafiq. You two should never have married in the first place. But you did marry her, she turned to another man, and it all ended in tragedy. No matter what happened that night, it’s done and it cannot be undone.”
He paused his pacing in the middle of the room. “How long have you known about her affair with Shamil?”
The query came as no surprise. “Not until he told me the day you arrived at my house. I had my suspicions, but I never confirmed them.”
“Yet you chose not to tell me.”
“Shamil threatened to ruin my medical practice. At the time, that mattered most to me.” Before Rafiq had come to matter more. “You and I were barely on speaking terms. I had no idea we would reconnect the way we have.”
“Yet when we did become close, you still did not reveal what you knew. You should have said something, Maysa.”
“Then you are angry with me.”
“Disappointed that you did not feel you could tell me after what I told you earlier.” He both looked and sounded resigned.
“I did plan to tell you tonight, if that’s any consolation.” And now she was charged with delivering the final betrayal blow. “There is something else you need to know.”
“Nothing you could say would surprise me at this point in time.”
“Perhaps you should sit down, just in case.”
He remained planted in the same spot. “I would rather stand.”
Of course he would. “It’s about the baby Rima was carrying. Shamil was the father.” She waited a moment for the news to sink in before she continued. “I only discovered that this morning, after you mentioned the timing of the pregnancy. Rima was close to entering her second trimester.”
“How do you know this?”
Maysa decided she needed to sit and selected the straight-back rattan chair in the corner. “Rima came to me to confirm the pregnancy, although I wasn’t certain why. I now believe she wanted to avoid using one of the palace’s physicians for fear they would be suspicious since you had been traveling at the time she conceived.”
He sighed. “I find little comfort in the knowledge the child was not mine. An innocent life was still taken, regardless of its parentage, and I find that incredibly sad.”
The declaration demonstrated the depth of his honor. Some men would be relieved, and not at all upset. “Did Shamil mention the baby to you?”
“He did not, yet I find it hard to believe that Rima would conceal it from him.”
Maysa had no problem believing it. “I hate to speak ill of the dead, but Rima was always about appearances. I honestly believe she would not have divorced you for Shamil. She would never put herself in the midst of a scandal. I do think she let him believe she would for the attention.”
“The attention I did not give her?”
“It wouldn’t have mattered if you’d showered her with it every moment of every day. For Rima, it would never be enough.”
“I did not realize you thought so little of her.”
Clearly he had been blind to the ongoing competition for his affections between her and Rima. “She craved that attention when we were schoolmates at the palace, and she would find it through whatever means.” Including shamelessly flirting with the other two Mehdi brothers behind Rafiq’s back. But he had heard enough secrets for one day.
When Maysa noticed Rafiq’s lip had begun to swell, she stood and gestured toward the sofa. “I need to take a closer look at your cut.”
He trudged toward the divan as if on his way to the gallows. After he settled onto the cushions, Maysa went to work. He winced when she applied antiseptic, yet he remained still when she applied the strips to close the wound.
“That should hold the edges together if you’re careful. But if it opens, you may need stitches.”
As she began to put away the supplies, Rafiq clasped her wrist. “What are we going to do about us?”
“Is there an us, Rafiq?”
He released her and forked his hands through his hair. “Shamil continues to threaten to expose our affair. We would have to be cautious if we continue to see each other.”
If they continued to see each other. “Then I suppose it’s probably best we end it now, as originally planned.”
“You are willing to walk away after what we have shared?”
She summoned all her courage before she answered. “Yes, because you are not willing to defy tradition and have an open relationship with me.”
“To do that would only subject you to constant contempt and ridicule.”
“Are you certain you are not referring to yourself?”
“I am the king and will remain so, whatev
er anyone might believe about me. But I would face resistance from the council when attempting to make decisions for the country. The majority still adhere to the old ways.”
“Then in part this is also about your reputation and your unwillingness to discard the old ways.”
“I am only trying to protect you, Maysa.”
A spear of anger mixed with resentment hurled through her. “I divorced a husband who was basically a terrorist. I left my homeland for a strange country with only the clothes on my back. I worked my way through medical school and returned to Bajul to face the worst possible scorn, and I have survived it all. What makes you believe I need your protection?”
“I care about you and your well-being.”
“If you truly cared about me, Rafiq, you would never propose I be your sharmuta, as Shamil so aptly put it. That being said, you may consider your sabbatical officially ended, and our affair permanently over. Feel free to return to the palace knowing your secrets are safe with me. Now I have to return to the clinic and salvage what is left of the day.” And what was left of her heart.
Fearing she might reconsider or cry, Maysa snatched the bag and headed for the door. She didn’t have time to open it before Rafiq came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. “I do not know how to let you go a second time.”
“Then don’t, but only on my terms.”
He turned her to face him. “I cannot risk failing you the way I failed Rima. I cannot abide you hating me. If avoiding that possibility means letting you go, then I have no choice.”
Little by little, her heart began to splinter, one fissure at a time. One word at a time. “Everyone has choices, Rafiq. You have to decide whether you want to risk making them, or if you wish to settle for safety. I will not play second chair in your royal orchestra. I will not stand by while you choose another queen and enter another loveless marriage for the sake of building a fortune and making Mehdi babies. Either we are truly together, or we are not. I need all, or nothing.”
She held her breath while she waited to hear his choice, and silently prayed it would be the right one.
