by Leslie North
“Night shifts? Childcare?” Fiona blinked. “Chadil left you?”
“Not exactly, but he made himself pretty clear.” Raina dabbed at her eyes again, but the tears just kept coming. “He saw the test, and all he could talk about was how we’d spin it. Not the future, not his feelings, just the press. He just stood there. We’re over.”
“Oh, Chadil.” Fiona made a tutting sound. “I’m so sorry. This should be a happy time.” She pulled Raina close again, rubbing slow circles between her shoulder blades. “Don’t go home yet, okay?”
“I can’t stay here.”
“Go with Zenab and Sarah, then. They’re going home in a day or two, to Zenab’s personal residence, and I know they’d be delighted to have you. As for Chadil...leave him to me.”
“What are you going to do?”
“You’ll see.” Fiona straightened up, smiling. “It might not seem that way right now, but I think I can get through to him. Just promise you’ll give me a chance.”
Raina nodded. “I promise.” She wasn’t sure Chadil deserved another chance, but maybe their baby did.
She summoned up a watery smile and squeezed Fiona’s hands. “Kick his ass for me, okay?”
“You can bet on it.”
Chadil couldn’t focus.
He’d come to his office to bury himself in work, but all roads led to Raina. Every tweet, every press inquiry, they all came back to her, and what had he done?
What had he done?
His mother’s bracelet sparkled on his desk. He swept it into a drawer, but he still felt the weight of it, the weight of what he’d done.
He’d let Raina slip through his fingers. He’d just stood there and watched as her hopeful expression faded through shock and anger, all the way to resignation, then she’d left him. All she’d wanted was the truth, a few words from the heart, but...
Chadil buried his face in his hands. When had he last spoken freely, opened his mouth and let loose without some crafted script in mind? Before Edlyn’s accident, maybe. Life had seemed simple then, lessons and football and games with his brothers. But then Father had come to him, his grief walled behind determination, and Chadil had never forgotten his words.
This is a blow to our family, but just as our triumphs exalt Al-Mifadhir, our wounds strike the heart of the nation. We have to show strength now, turn this wound to triumph. It’ll help Edlyn too, watching the whole kingdom applaud her recovery. You’ll be strong, won’t you?
He’d been strong. He’d reminded himself before every press conference, my strength is everyone’s strength, but Raina needed honesty. She had her own strength; she didn’t need his. She needed that part of him he’d buried so deep he wasn’t sure it was still breathing.
Maybe this was for the best. She’d be happier without him...but would he? She’d made him laugh like no one else, picked him up when he was down. She’d been patient—
His door flew open, so hard it thumped into the wall. Chadil leapt to his feet, shocked to see Fiona bearing down on him, arms full of Graham.
“Fiona? What—?”
“I heard you have a new little miracle on the way.” She thrust Graham into his arms and plunked his diaper bag on his desk. “Well, they don’t come with instruction manuals, and you can’t spin away a dirty diaper. Call this a hands-on lesson.”
“What? No! I have—hey!” Graham squirmed in his arms, grabbing hold of his nose. “Fiona! Get back here.”
“All yours, little brother.” She gave him a wave as she ducked out of the room. “Oh. And he’s been having some crazy separation anxiety. You’ll want to watch for that.”
“What? I don’t even know what that is. Fiona.”
As if on cue, Graham began to wail. He kicked at Chadil, nearly slipping from his grasp.
“Hey. Shh. What are you doing?”
Graham shrieked louder, right in Chadil’s ear. Chadil held him awkwardly, waiting for Fiona to rush back and scoop him up, but the door stayed closed.
“Fiona?” He shuffled to the door and toed it open, but the hall was empty, save for a pair of passing council members. One of them smiled at him. The other just stared. Chadil turned his back on them, holding Graham to his chest. “What’s wrong? You miss your mother?”
Graham buried his face in Chadil’s jacket, wiping his nose all over his lapels.
“Really? That’s just rude.”
A maid scurried by, and Chadil hailed her. “Excuse me. Did you see where Fiona went?”
“No, Your Highness. Do you need me to take your nephew?”
“No, thank you.” He held Graham closer, hating to imagine Fiona’s face if she found he’d foisted Graham on the staff. “Now, what does it take to distract you.”
“Cah.” Graham reached for a figurine of a camel that resided in a mosaiced nook in the hall. The dromedary was a shiny thing with long legs. “Bah.”
“No, no. You can’t have that. That was your grandmother’s, a souvenir from her honeymoon.” Chadil shifted him to his other shoulder, but Graham struggled harder, nearly breaking free.
“Cah!”
“It’s a camel,” said Chadil. “Can you say ‘camel’?”
Graham howled in his ear, his shrieks taking on an earsplitting quality. A maid peeked around the corner and chuckled up her sleeve, but Chadil wasn’t so amused. He had no script for this, no roadmap. Which looked worse: a screaming baby or the sacrifice of a family heirloom? Maybe neither, next to Graham’s comfort. He glanced down at his nephew, red as a tomato and screaming up a storm. Nothing else mattered here.
“Okay. All right.” Chadil snatched up the bronze camel and probed it with his thumb, searching for anything that felt like it might break off. It felt solid enough, so he let Graham have it. To his surprise, the baby cooed, clutching the camel to his chest like a favorite toy.
“You like that?”
“Cah.” Graham popped its head in his mouth and sucked contentedly. Chadil couldn’t help but laugh. His ears were still ringing, and he’d need a fresh jacket, but this wasn’t so bad. He didn’t even mind the tsk tsk from the perpetually cranky assistant to the deputy secretary for internal affairs, who passed by just then. Graham looked up at him, dark eyes sleepy, and he pictured his own child in his arms—green-eyed, maybe, like Raina.
He wanted that, he realized. He wanted it badly, and he was sure Raina did too, but had he burned that bridge beyond repair?
Whatever he did, whatever he said, it had to come from the heart.
What would Raina want?
15
Raina dug her trowel into the dirt, stabbing hard. Her mother’s voice echoed in her ears, full of spite.
Crawl back, if you must. Grovel at his feet. Do whatever it takes, but get him back.
The earth smelled good, rich and fertile, but Raina tasted salt. It had been nice for a while, hiding out with Zenab, but the real world was still out there, pushing in.
I hope you don’t think you’re coming home. It’s hard enough showing my face without my unwed daughter, belly out to here—
Raina plucked a tulip bulb from the basket beside her and thumbed it into the hole she’d made. Red, white, or pink—she supposed she wouldn’t be around to find out, though where she’d go, she wasn’t sure. She’d always thought Mom would take her in, even if she did it in bad grace, but this time, she had her doubts. Reputation, reputation, reputation. Was that all that mattered to anyone?
Chimes tinkled as Zenab let herself into the greenhouse. Raina waved her over, relieved for the company.
“And what are we planting today?” Zenab reached for a bulb. “Onions?”
Raina chuckled. “Tulips, so don’t eat that. Just working off some steam.”
“Work off all you want. My garden’s never been lovelier.” Zenab wandered down the row, stopping to rub the lamb’s ears growing in a red ceramic pot. “How are you feeling?”
“Sad.” Raina laid down her trowel and perched on a planter. “I feel like I’ve let everyone down. If I
’d just kept my cool, not gone off like that—”
“Oh, hush.” Zenab nodded at the strawberries. “These are still edible, right?”
“Last I checked.”
She took one and popped it in her mouth, closing her eyes as she did. “I’ve said far worse than you did, in my day. And everyone makes mistakes.”
“Not Chadil.” Raina sighed. “I don’t know how he does it. Whatever they throw at him, he just takes it in his stride. I swear, they could insult his little sister, call her every name in the book, and he’d smile and nod like they were asking about the weather.” She took a strawberry herself and chewed it thoughtfully. “He’s right, I suppose. Honesty’s great, but I guess there’s a time to say nothing at all.”
“Is there? Can’t say I’ve ever found it.” Zenab mimed surprise, making Raina giggle. “Do you miss him? Chadil, I mean?”
“Yeah. Big-time.” She looked past Zenab to where the willow fronds grazed the glass. The greenhouse had become her refuge, but even here, she couldn’t escape her loss. She missed Chadil’s sense of humor and the rare laughs she’d get from him. She missed his dedication, his drive to serve his people, even if he went about it all wrong. She missed his touch, his lips, the way he’d lean close and whisper in her ear.
“He made me feel like I was all that mattered,” she said. “When it was just the two of us, no one to impress... He’d turn off his phone, leave his worries at the door, and he’d—he asked me about myself. He wanted to know everything, like he really did care.”
Zenab circled behind her and set her hands on Raina’s shoulders. “You’re too tense. You’re thinking too much.”
“I can’t stop myself. I keep thinking, what if I overreacted? I yelled at the paparazzi, I shut out Chadil. If I’d just stayed and talked to him, maybe it would’ve been different.”
Zenab kneaded her shoulders, digging in deep. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned,” she said, “it’s that you can play what-if forever. But you can’t change what’s done. You have to focus on tomorrow, or you’ll walk backward through life, missing out on what’s ahead.”
Raina made a humming sound. Zenab was right, but she couldn’t shake the fantasy of Chadil finding the pregnancy test in a happier moment, sweeping her up in his arms with a joyous shout. That was how it should’ve been, and as for tomorrow...
She couldn’t picture what came next, not with any kind of certainty. Single motherhood was lonely, she knew that, and without her family around her, without Chadil, it would be worse.
She’d live in hope a while longer, she decided. Fiona had promised to work on Chadil, and she hadn’t called yet to say she’d given up.
Raina picked up her trowel and stood, smiling at Zenab. “How about you plant the next one? I’ll show you how.”
16
Chadil rolled over, restless. His bedside clock read five fifteen. He threw the covers off and rubbed his eyes, exhausted and stressed all at once. The letter still sat on his nightstand, the one addressed to Raina. He shouldn’t have opened it in the first place, but the little-kid writing had drawn his curiosity, and he couldn’t stop coming back to it.
He reached for the envelope again, smiling at the pink octopus scrawled across the back.
Dear Princess Raina—
Chadil frowned. It hurt to think she’d never be his princess, never wear his ring.
I had my surgery, and you were right. It hurt, but not that bad, and it’s getting better now. I’ve been working hard in PT, and Dr. Haddad says if I keep doing well, I can play football next year.
He’d drawn a football there, and a foot in a cast kicking it hard. Chadil read the rest aloud, wishing Raina could hear. “I hope you’ll come to my first match back. Grandpa says you can have his seat. Thanks for your visit, and for what you said. Every time it hurt, I remembered you saying it takes time to get better, and I worked twice as hard. Hope to see you soon...”
He remembered that kid, his pale face and scared eyes. Raina had chased off his fear, not with pretty words but with facts, something he could hold onto. She’d gotten straight to the point like she always did, and it had helped.
He put down the letter and went to his closet. He dressed slowly, feeling sluggish. Maybe he’d been the problem all along, not the press, not Raina’s bluntness. He’d learned to feed them glib non-answers, but there was power in directness. A question unanswered came back the next day, and the next after that. It invited speculation, and gossip ran wild.
Chadil straightened his tie and slipped Raina’s bracelet into his pocket. He’d been carrying it like a good luck charm, but luck could only take him so far. He let himself out and strolled through the rose garden, drinking in the sunrise.
“Shh. Stop your clomping.”
He jumped, startled. “Fiona?”
She stepped out from under the pergola, Graham cradled in her arms, and stood bouncing him, dark circles under her eyes. “He’s having a clingy night. If I stop for a moment, if I think of setting him down, it’s like strangling a bag of cats.”
“Want me to take him? You look like you could use some sleep.”
Fiona regarded him doubtfully. “We could try. But I can’t guarantee he’ll take it well.”
“I can handle him.” Chadil held out his arms, and Fiona nestled Graham into his shoulder, all swaddled in his blanket. Graham fussed but didn’t scream, and Chadil took that as a good sign. “So, I walk him?”
“And sing to him, if you have to.” Fiona started back toward the palace. “Oh. His diaper bag’s by the fountain. You’ll likely need that soon.”
“The fountain near the aviary?”
“No, the one in the dayroom.”
“Okay. I’ll find it.” He snuggled Graham closer and started off in that direction. “Should we find that? Get your bag?”
Graham gurgled, and Chadil took the long way around, walking him through the rose garden, along the cloisters, avoiding the main thoroughfares. He wound up in the dayroom with its high arches and mosaic floor and the fountain in the middle, tinkling quietly through the night. Graham seemed to find the sound soothing, and Chadil stuck close to it, pacing circles. Graham dozed off, and Chadil dug out his phone, but not much had changed. He found himself reading the same headline over and over, failing to find the sense in it.
“Multitasking, are we?” Bas came up behind him and stroked Graham’s head. “Fiona said you might be here.” He held up a bottle and waggled it to and fro. “Time for somebody’s breakfast.”
“I hope you don’t mean mine.” Chadil handed Graham over and followed Bas to the table. “How are you sleeping? You look tired.”
“I have a baby.” He settled Graham in his arms and rearranged his blanket. “He’s up every two hours, sometimes all night. Aren’t you?” He bent his head to Graham’s as he asked the question.
Graham grabbed his finger and cooed. Bas cocked his head at Chadil.
“You’re up quite early yourself. Trouble sleeping?”
“You could say that.” Chadil covered a yawn. Sleep had been hard to come by lately; either he’d sit up till all hours, filling his head with distractions, or he’d toss and turn all night. “I’ve made quite a hash of things, haven’t I?”
“With Raina?”
He nodded. “I keep going over it in my head, everything I should’ve said, but it’s too late. She’s gone.”
“She’s only with Zenab.” Bas propped up Graham’s head and offered him the bottle. Graham blew a raspberry, spattering milk down Bas’s front. He wiped it away and tried again. “No spitting. Eat your breakfast.”
“They get along well, don’t they, Raina and Zenab?” Chadil pulled a face. “I thought I might call her, see if she’d put in a good word, but she’s been so flighty lately. Like a kid, almost. Who knows what she might say?”
“That’s the disease talking.” Bas sighed. “It only gets worse from here on.”
“The disease?” Chadil blinked.
“Alzheimer’s. Di
dn’t you know?”
He let out a whuffing sound, as though he’d been punched in the gut. He felt like he had, though he supposed he should’ve known. The signs were plain to see, the lack of filter, the forgetfulness—
“She thought Father was alive, back in Rome. She thought...she had no idea you were married.”
Bas mopped Graham’s face, a strange smile playing about his lips. “You know, for all your obsession with how things look, you’re surprisingly blind to how they are.”
Chadil opened his mouth to protest, but Bas was right. If he’d seen Raina’s hurt when she’d come to his study, if he’d listened to what she had to say, they might never have fought. She might never have fled. They could be preparing for their firstborn right now, getting ready for spilled milk and spit-up, hazy days and sleepless nights.
Graham spat on Bas again, and Chadil realized he wanted that. He wanted the mess and the chaos and Raina by his side. She’d laugh at him, covered in milk. They’d laugh together, and he missed that. He missed it so much it hurt, a physical ache in his chest.
“Do you love her?”
“What?” He straightened up, defensive.
“It’s a simple question. Do you love her?”
“Yes. I do.”
“So what are you going to do about it?”
For the second time in his life, Chadil found himself with no easy answer. “I have no idea,” he said. “But I’m going to do something. Something she would want. Something...I have to show her I love her. Don’t I?”
Bas just looked at him, but he was smiling now, a knowing sort of smile.
17
The sun was barely up when Raina crept out to the terrace, tablet under one arm, her breakfast tray balanced on the other. She shuffled to the table and sat down, stifling a yawn. All the baby books said she should be sleeping a lot, early to bed and late to rise, but she’d found the opposite to be true. When she wasn’t talking Zenab out of some late-night adventure, she was scouring the gossip sites for glimpses of Chadil, studying his press clippings for signs he missed her. Were those dark circles under his eyes, or just a shadow? Was he frowning there, or looking down?
