by Leslie North
“That’s not what I meant.” Fiona held up a slim blue box, one Raina knew all too well.
“Oh, no. I’m on the pill.”
“Wouldn’t hurt to make sure.” She waggled the test. “Bas and I were safe, too, and you’ve met Graham, right?”
Raina sat down with a thump. The dates did line up, but it just wasn’t possible. Wasn’t likely, she amended. These things did happen, but they weren’t supposed to happen to her. She had a kid plan, and it started after marriage, not in the middle of a make-believe courtship.
Fiona raised a brow and tossed her the box.
12
Raina dug out her most comfortable clothes from their hiding place at the back of her closet: a loose tee and sweatpants, her lucky pink Crocs. She showered and dressed and brushed out her hair, but the fog didn’t lift. She felt heavy and tired, her head full of cotton.
“Fresh air,” she muttered, and she peeked out the door. The garden looked empty, and that suited her fine. She kept her head down as she hurried through the rose garden, past the hedge, out of sight of the palace. Chadil had come by again, no doubt wanting to talk, but she couldn’t face him yet. Not till she’d untangled her own feelings. A baby—that was huge, and if she ran into him now, she’d just blurt it out. He’d be shocked, maybe blame her, and they’d fight. She wasn’t sure they’d come back from that, not after everything that had happened.
Voices caught her ear as she wandered by the aviary. She went still, but it wasn’t Chadil, just Sarah and Zenab. They seemed to be bickering, Sarah’s voice thick with concern, Zenab’s soft and soothing.
“What do they say in America? If you can’t beat them, join them. Give me your hand.”
Sarah mumbled something, too low to hear.
“I’m old,” said Zenab. “I’m allowed to be silly. To enjoy myself.”
Raina skirted the aviary and came upon a strange scene. Zenab was barefoot, all smiles, dancing with an invisible partner as Sarah fluttered about her, trying to coax her inside.
“Someone might see you. There will be talk. They’ll ask questions.” She spotted Raina and frowned. “Look, Miss Mousa’s here.”
“Oh, Raina!” Zenab brightened visibly. She glided across the flagstones, graceful as a swan, and reached for Raina’s hand. “Come dance with me. I’ll show you how we did it in my day.”
“I couldn’t.” Raina backed away. “You know me. I have two left feet.”
“You were lovely at the ball.” Zenab spun around, her skirts skimming the ground. Her hair streamed out, unbound, and for a moment, she looked young. “And Chadil! To think he’d be such a dancer. I remember his first lesson, tripping all over himself. You’d have thought he’d forgotten how to walk, let alone count the steps.” She grabbed Raina’s hand and pulled her in. “Follow me.”
“There’s no music.”
“We’ll make our own.” She hummed a few bars, then broke down in laughter. “I never was much of a singer, but we can imagine.”
“There’s music inside,” said Sarah. “Come back to your rooms. I’ll play whatever you want.”
“Only if Raina’s coming.” She hooked her arm around Raina’s and spun her around. “Well? Will you join us?”
“Of course.” She kept hold of Zenab’s arm as she led her back indoors, keeping her distracted with conversation as they passed Bas’s secretary. Sarah moved between him and Zenab, shielding her bare feet from view. They hurried the rest of the way, Raina entertaining Zenab, Sarah keeping herself in the way of any prying eyes.
“Here we are,” said Zenab. She dropped Raina’s arm and flitted inside. “I’ll make the tea. We’ll have a little party, just the three of us. You can tell me all your news.”
Sarah made as though to follow, but Raina held her back.
“How long has she been this way, with the dementia?”
“It’s not—” Sarah pursed her lips. “She’s always been enthusiastic. She has her little fancies. This is just—”
“Don’t.” Raina guided her to the table, out of Zenab’s earshot. “You know I work at Johns Hopkins Hospital, right? I saw her at the cognitive neurosciences center. And she’s forgetting things. Bas’s wedding. Her brother’s death. You don’t have to hide it from me.”
Sarah fidgeted with her bracelet, turning it around and around. “It’s been creeping up for a while,” she said. “But it’s only been bad this past year. She’s so adamant no one should know, but her friends are starting to notice. They don’t say anything, not to her, but they come to me.”
Raina laid her hand on Sarah’s arm, small comfort, but it was all she could offer. Sarah looked up, and the pain in her eyes hurt to see.
“They tell me things—places she wanted to go, things she loved. They pretend they just went themselves, and they thought of her, but what they’re saying is hurry. Before it’s too late.”
Raina’s eyes swam. Zenab was still so lively, still so much herself. The thought of her losing that, losing her joy in life, was too much to bear. She glanced toward the kitchen. “Does her family know? Bas, at least?”
“No.” Sarah’s expression turned bitter. “She won’t let me say a word, and of course they’re all so busy. They just wave it off as Zenab and her antics, but I’m afraid they’ll miss their chance...”
Raina nodded. “They should get that time with her, whatever’s left.”
“Tea for three!” Zenab shuffled in, her tray laden with treats. Sarah hurried to help her serve, and the two of them laid the table with tea and cakes, fresh-sliced fruit. Zenab cut a pomegranate in two and offered half to Raina.
“You’ll want to eat plenty of these. Keeps the baby growing.”
“What?” Raina choked on her tea. “How did you—?”
“Have you seen yourself lately?” Zenab pinched her cheek. “I’d know that glow anywhere. Amena had it too, especially with the twins. She was like the sun. So happy.” She reached for the honey. “And you? How are you feeling?”
“I’m not sure yet. I just found out.” She laughed. “Literally an hour ago. I took the test, went for a walk, and here we are.”
“The joy will come,” said Sarah. “Everyone’s overwhelmed, especially the first time, but you’ll feel it soon.”
“You will,” agreed Zenab. “Just think, your own little treasure.” She plucked at Sarah’s sleeve. “Oh, do you remember Chadil, when he was young? That xylophone he had, with the rainbow keys?”
“How could I forget?” Sarah chuckled. “Most kids would bang on that, make as much noise as possible. Not Chadil. He’d sit and think it over, and he’d write these little tunes—little Mozart, we’d call him.”
“Little Beethoven. The hair, remember?” Zenab waggled her fingers around her head. “He and Bas found some paint, once, a whole tub of the stuff. They tried to paint the roses, like in Alice in Wonderland. You should’ve seen Amena’s face.”
“The roses were fine, though. Blue, but they survived.” Sarah threw up her hands. “Oh, look. We’re scaring Raina.”
“You’re not.” Raina smiled. “I was just trying to picture that, Chadil being bad.”
“He has mischief in him.” Zenab stirred her tea. “You don’t see it much now, but it’s in there. Being a father might help with that. Remind him he’s still young.”
Raina’s face fell. Chadil, a father. Would he want that? He didn’t care for surprises, and this was a doozy. “I haven’t told him,” she said. “I don’t know how.”
“Just get the words out. That’s all you can do.” Zenab nodded to herself. “Besides, he’ll be thrilled. He might not know it at first, but this is just what he needs.”
“How do you figure?”
“He wasn’t always so rigid, so trapped in his role. There’s a little boy in there somewhere just dying to get out, the boy I used to know. He needs some mess in his life, something he can’t control. Someone who needs his love, not that silver tongue.” Zenab snorted, and Raina did too. Chadil did need messing up, but s
he’d given him plenty of that. He hadn’t reformed for her. Could she gamble on him warming to a child?
She sipped her tea, trying to picture him changing a diaper. Wiping baby barf off his suit. Or would he expect her to do all that or leave it to a maid? They’d never discussed kids, and why would they have? A neat courtship, a fond goodbye—that was the plan, and she wasn’t sure she wanted anything more. She’d let herself dream a while, but she’d woken up in his study. The man who’d greeted her there wasn’t the man she’d pictured a life with. He was cold and remote. He saw headlines over people, over her. The sting hadn’t faded, and she wasn’t sure it would.
“Raina?”
She jolted upright. Zenab was eyeing her, one brow raised.
“Sorry. Daydreaming, I guess.” She stared into her tea, at the leaves scattered at the bottom. “Did you ever have children? Someone you loved?”
“No children,” said Zenab. “But there was someone I loved, when I was your age.” Her expression softened into a smile. “He was like me, brimming with energy. We were courting, of course, but we’d sneak off on these little excursions, just us, no one else. We’d go dancing, ride horses—we flew to London one time, had our pictures taken with, oh, what do you call them, with the hats?”
“The Queen’s Guard?”
“That’s right. It was a wonderful weekend, and our last.” Her smile faded. “He died three days later. His car went off the road. After that, I couldn’t see anyone taking his place. The way he looked at me, the way he spoke to me...” Zenab’s voice caught, and she wiped her eyes. “I only wanted him.”
Raina took her hand, speechless. Finding love like that, only to lose it—she couldn’t imagine anything more painful. She wondered if anyone would take Chadil’s place, make her feel the way he had in their best moments.
“Have some faith in him,” said Zenab. “Chadil’s walled himself off, but no wall stands forever.”
“No wall stands forever.” Raina hoped that was true. She drained her tea for courage and got to her feet. “You’re right. I have to tell him. Before I lose my nerve.”
“You’ll do wonderfully. You’ll see.”
Raina squared her shoulders and set off. Maybe Chadil would surprise her. He’d managed it before, and Zenab was right. There was more to him than the surface, even if he kept it buried deep. Maybe he’d lift her and spin her around, kiss her on the mouth and throw his phone in the fountain.
Maybe he wouldn’t.
Either way, he had to know.
13
Chadil slammed his laptop shut and stalked out of his office. He’d had enough, but the papers were just getting started. They’d gone to town on Raina’s outburst, first casting her as a harpy, then a victim, as public sympathy swung her way. Her parents were catching the worst of it, and the royal family by extension, and the storm showed no sign of abating.
He needed a bone to throw the press, something new they could chew over.
He needed Raina. What was she thinking, locking herself away when he needed her more than ever? She should’ve showed her face days ago, made a public apology, but she hadn’t so much as offered. She’d—
Chadil stopped himself at Raina’s door. He’d never have made her go through with a public apology. The fault lay on both sides: she’d snapped with good cause. It wasn’t her lack of contrition that had his back up. It was that she’d turned him away. She’d shut him out, and he missed her, simple as that.
He closed his eyes and ran through the speech he’d prepared, amending it as he went.
I’m sorry, he started. I should have listened. You were hurt. I made it worse. But I need you more than ever. You have to—
He shook his head. It wouldn’t do to make demands.
They loved you at first. That was all down to you. Your school visits, your community service—those were your ideas, and they were perfect. If we could put our heads together one more time...
She’d like that, he thought, having a say in what came next. He had a plan of his own, a visit to a shelter where they’d serve lunch to the needy, but he could nudge her toward it. Let her think of it herself. It would be the perfect show of charity and solidarity, and a positive nod to her waitress job.
He knocked sharply, three times.
Raina didn’t answer.
He knocked again. “Raina?”
The silence thundered in his ears. No one called out. No maid came to turn him away. A bolt of panic shot through him. Had she left without saying a word?
Chadil flung the door open. The room smelled sweet, freshly-aired. The door to the terrace stood open, Raina’s sunhat hanging on the knob. Her necklace lay on the nightstand, her slippers nestled under the bed. He hurried to her closet and her clothes were still there, the ones he’d had made for her and those she’d brought from home.
He let out a shuddering breath. The press would’ve had a field day—a runaway bride, a jilted prince—he’d never have lived that down. Worse still, it would’ve been too late to make amends.
“Raina?” Chadil squinted into the sunlight, but the garden was empty. He turned to go, then stopped in his tracks.
A slim blue box sat on the dresser. He picked it up and turned it over. A pregnancy test.
“No.”
He gave the box a shake, and it rattled. The stick clattered into his hand.
“Two lines. That’s...”
“Surprise.”
He spun on his heel, nearly dropping the test. Raina looked tired, a little flushed—and nervous. Chadil fumbled for a response. A baby? His baby? He’d figured he’d have children, but someday, not now. He wasn’t ready. He hadn’t—
“I know we didn’t plan this, but—”
“We’ll handle it.” He smiled. A child was a blessing, however it happened. “I can spin this. We’ll say we met before, but we wanted to court because—”
“You don’t spin a baby.” Raina retreated, arms crossed over her belly. Chadil reached for her.
“That’s not what I meant. I’m saying I’m here for you. We’ll get through this together. You don’t have to handle it alone.”
“Handle it?” Raina looked incredulous. “I don’t care how we handle it. I want to know how you feel. This is your child. Do you care?”
“Of course I do. I—” Chadil swallowed. Worried—he felt worried. Overwhelmed. Surprised, but also...excited? A little playmate for Graham, so soon! But there was still the press. Two brothers, two pregnant brides. He’d never hear the end of it, and if Raina wouldn’t marry him—
He’d let the silence drag out too long.
“Okay. You can go.” Raina’s expression turned hard.
“Wait. I just need time to think.” He never needed time to think. What the hell was wrong with him?
“I didn’t ask for your thoughts. I asked for your feelings.” She turned her back on him and opened the door, stepping out of his path. “Get out. We’re through.”
Chadil glanced past her. The hallway was suddenly bustling, maids making their rounds. He could spill his guts, tell her everything he felt, but it would be all over the palace by lunch. If he left, though, if he walked away, the look in her eyes told him she’d never welcome him back. This was the last straw, and he was holding it.
“This is yours.” Raina unclasped his mother’s bracelet and dropped it in his hand. “Thanks for everything.”
Then, apparently tired of waiting for him, she left the room, shutting the door in his face.
14
Raina took refuge in the aviary, but even the chattering of the birds couldn’t draw her from her turmoil. She felt exposed, out of place; there was nothing for her here. Zenab didn’t need her. She had Sarah. The people looked down on her, the press hated her, and Chadil couldn’t be honest, even about his own feelings.
Chadil. How had she thought, even for a minute, she might find a home with him? He was cold and remote, and a liar to boot. He lived on the surface, in press clippings and photo ops. Raina hated th
at world. She needed honesty, a man she could trust.
A tiny pink bird landed on her knee. She held still as it pecked at her skirt, stealing a thread for its nest. That would be nice, she reflected, having wings. Flapping home at a moment’s notice. As it was, she wasn’t sure she had one to go back to. Mom would have a conniption if she showed up pregnant and empty handed. She could demand her bride price, she supposed, call it payment for services rendered, but Chadil might use that against her. He could sue for full custody, and why wouldn’t he? One look at his child, and he’d fall in love—or would he?
She’d never seen him hold Graham or play with him. Maybe kids didn’t interest him. Maybe he’d be relieved to see her go. She’d practically begged him to fight for her, and he hadn’t even tried.
“I thought I saw you rush in here.” Fiona sat down beside her, jolting her from her thoughts. “Feeling better?”
“Kind of.” The puking had stopped, at least. That was something.
“And the test?” Fiona bounced a little. “I know I shouldn’t pry, but I’m dying to know.”
“Positive. I’m pregnant.”
“Oh!” Fiona swept her into a hug, so warm and tight it brought tears to her eyes. “Congratulations. That’s wonderful. Wait, are you crying?”
“Just hormones.” Raina pulled back, feeling cold. Fiona’s reaction was what she’d wanted from Chadil, but he hadn’t smiled, hadn’t held her. He’d gone straight for the spin, and she wondered if he’d felt anything at all.
“Something’s wrong,” said Fiona. She took a tissue from her pocket and offered it to Raina. “These aren’t happy tears. What happened?”
“Chadil and I are over.” Raina sniffed and wiped her eyes. “He doesn’t want this, and I—I don’t know what to do. I’m not sure my job’s waiting back home, and getting hired when I’m pregnant, juggling night shifts and childcare...oh, and Mom’s gonna kill me—”
