Royal Weddings

by Clare Connelly

  Where were all the servants? She made a groan of complaint and sat down again. Her ankle was now about twice the width of her leg. It looked as though it had swallowed a balloon and gradually inflated it. She rested it, and sat for as long as she could handle the heat, and then stood again.

  She had no choice but to persevere. If she sat and waited to be rescued, she’d likely be found by that damned eagle first. With a grunt, she moved forward, dragging her sore leg and limping heavily on the other.

  It took almost an hour to reach the courtyard. She gripped the trunk of one of the trees with immense gratitude and then pulled past it.

  The relief of the palace corridor wrapped around her like water on a hot day. She knew it would take forever to climb the stairs to her room, and though she hated to be a nuisance, she flagged down a passing maid with an apologetic smile.

  She looked as though she’d seen a ghost and began to make hurried statements into the little communication device she wore at his wrist.

  Evie grimaced, imagining that she must, surely, look like death warmed up.

  “I require assistance,” she said above her, remembering belatedly that she was, in fact, the Queen, and that she shouldn’t have to wait for her to finish whatever else she was doing.

  She nodded jerkily but only seconds later, a flurry of servants appeared, and behind them, his traditional robe billowing behind him, his eyes flecked with fury, her husband.

  She blamed her weakened ankle, but of course it was the sight of him that did it. Her knees buckled and she had to press hard against the wall to stop from falling to the floor. He moved towards her with such a dark intensity that she could do nothing but stare. The servants parted like an ocean, watching silently as he stood right in front of her.

  “Where have you been?” The question hid a swirling tide of feeling; they both knew it.

  Evie, mortified at the scene she’d created, dropped her head forward.

  With a sound of exasperation, Malakhi spoke in his native tongue. “Leave us.”

  They did, instantly, grateful almost for the opportunity to avoid whatever confrontation was brewing.

  “Well, Evelyn?” He hissed, when they were alone in the vast corridor. “My entire staff has spent the morning searching for you. And here you are, looking like the streets have spat your out for breakfast. So? What is it?”

  She grimaced at his description, but she knew it to be true. “I’m sorry,” she said finally.

  “Sorry?” His anger increased. He spun away from her, stalking down the hallway. “Sorry?” He turned back to her, but didn’t close the distance. “Come with me. This isn’t a suitable venue for what I want to say.”

  Her foot was throbbing. Pounding. But pride kept her silent and Malakhi misunderstood. He presumed her stationary position was a result of reticence and doubled back, scooping her in his arms.

  “Put me down,” she said in shock. “People will see you.”

  “I don’t give a damn,” he snarled.

  To her intense relief, he turned into the first doorway that appeared and deposited her unceremoniously on the tiled floor. Evie yelped as her ankle was forced to bear her weight.

  He drew his eyes together, his expression showing anger, impatience and frustration. “What? What is it?”

  “Nothing,” she lied, looking around for a chair. There was one a little way across the room.

  He drew a hand through his hair. “Where were you?”

  “I went for a walk,” she returned stoically. When he turned away and strode to the large window she limped quickly to the chair, seating herself in it before he could notice the weakness in her posture.

  “A walk? In the middle of the night? Without alerting any staff? Without telling me?”

  “It was early in the morning, not the middle of the night. And you weren’t there to tell,” she pointed out tartly, immediately regretting the words for the care they showed.

  “So? You have an army of servants at your disposal. I cannot be on hand every minute of the day to counsel you to common sense.”

  “I don’t need you to do that,” she responded indignantly.

  “Evidently you do.”

  Their eyes were locked in a fierce battle of the wills. Evie felt her heart churning and breaking anew but she had no words to offer that could quench the torrent of what they were feeling.

  An invisible thread burst from one to the other and neither looked away at first. Finally, though, Malakhi made a sound from deep in his throat and came to stand just in front of her. When he spoke, it was with a soul that was deeply and irreparably tortured. The words seemed to be dragged from deep in his being.

  “I cannot lose you too.” He closed his eyes as though he’d revealed so much more of himself than he wished.

  “What are you talking about?” She snapped the question, certain she’d misunderstood. “I’m not yours to lose, remember? I’m my own person.”

  He swallowed; his Adam’s Apple bobbed visibly and then he pierced her with the force of his gaze. “But my life is contingent on yours.” The words were coated with heavy, pulsing emotions. “I can’t lose you.”

  Evie shook her head. Pain was spreading from her ankle through her leg, making her shiver. “What are you saying?”

  “For three hours I have not known your whereabouts. I have imagined the worst. I have imagined, perhaps, that you were also dead. And I faced the realisation that without you, my life would mean nothing.”

  A frisson of dangerous hope flickered beneath her skin.

  “I went for a walk,” she said carefully, keeping her eyes averted to avoid exposing all of the wishes that burned inside of her.

  “I imagined someone finding your body. I imagined being told the news as I was when Sabra and David died.” He crouched before her, putting his hands on her lap. “Please do not disappear again.”

  Evie felt a sob bubbling inside her. She swallowed it. “You’re the one who disappeared,” she said firmly, her voice surprisingly cold for the fluctuating emotions that were making breathing difficult.

  He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Is it not what you wished?”

  “What? For you to go and spend your nights with Lord only knows who?”

  He lifted to his knees, so that their eyes were level. “Is this what you think? That I have been in someone else’s bed?”

  “No,” she said calmly. “I thought you were in the palace, in one of your many beds. But that you weren’t alone.”

  “Evie,” he groaned, breathing out slowly. “Why? Why would you think this?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said stoically. “This isn’t a marriage of love, remember? What you do is your business.”

  He recoiled and then shook his head. “When I thought harm had befallen you, do you know what I kept thinking?”

  “That you wished you’d never met me?” She said softly, her shoulders slumped.

  “That I had never told you how I feel. That perhaps you had died, and you had never known the truth of my heart.” He cupped her cheeks with splayed fingers, holding her right before him. “I know you don’t want my love. That you believe it will complicate our arrangement. But I have loved you, Evie, since you decided to tempt Khadir with your delectable body.”

  When she went to say something he pressed a finger to her lips and continued: “I lied to you so that you would marry me. Not just because I didn’t want to lose Kalem, but because losing you would have ruined me. To have had you in my life and in my bed, and face the rest of my life without you – how can I do it?”

  Evie was shivering all over now, her whole body in a state of painful shock. “I don’t believe you.”

  “You don’t want to believe me,” he said simply, his eyes challenging. “Because I am not playing by the rules we have established. But that in no way invalidates my feelings.”

  “You’ve hardly touched me since the wedding.”

  His face showed his shock. “Of course I haven’t! Did I de
serve the pleasure of your body after what I did? I lied to you! I lied about my deceased sister’s wishes, all because I couldn’t lose you. What kind of amoral bastard does that make me? How could I touch you and expect you to touch me back knowing what I’d done? Knowing that you had seen the truth of my actions and found it in your heart to forgive me? Hearing you speak with such kind generosity to Leilani after her vicious attack? You are all that is good in this world and I took advantage of your kindness. How could I touch you?”

  Evie squeezed her eyes shut, her desire to believe him at odds with the scepticism she’d employed as a shield for her soft heart. “Leilani told me you love her.”

  “I have never loved her,” he denied with such uncomplicated ease it surely must have been true. “But I knew she loved me and I should have ended it a long time ago.”

  “When I came here, you hardly spoke to me,” she whispered, remembering those early, grief-soaked weeks when he had been aloof and uncaring.

  “You were married!” He said with a groan. “Or, as far as I knew, you were married. I kept my distance because I was terrified of what I might say, of what I might offer, to have you leave him for me.” He shook his head with muted anger. “At the funeral, I ached for you. Can you believe that? My own sister’s funeral and all I wanted to do was take you to my bed and bury my sorrow with your pleasure.” His cheeks were highlighted by emotion. “You! A married woman, with a tear-stained face and a little boy clutched to your side.”

  He growled with feeling. “In every way my behaviour has betrayed what I expect of myself. Even from the first, when you were in Khadir’s garden and I held you close, wanting you all to myself, I knew I should have stayed away. When I discovered your connection to my sister, I should have closed the door on the desire I felt. And yes, when you arrived, wearing a wedding ring and caring so beautifully for our nephew, I should have set aside my hopes for us. And I didn’t. I could not.”

  Evie sucked in a deep breath as his eyes seemed to flash, for the briefest of minutes, with suspicious moisture. But there was no way in hell Malakhi was crying. Was there?

  “My greatest wish, Evelyn, is that ours will become a real marriage.” He lowered his gaze, shielding his eyes from her. “Desire we have, but respect and affection take time to thrive. I accept this, so long as there is hope. So long as there is enough in your heart to one day lead to this.”

  Evie shivered and shook her head. She went to curl her leg up beneath her but winced as pain assaulted her. She put her foot back gingerly on the ground. “It’s May fourth,” she said quietly, her words curdled with sadness. “David’s birthday. I woke up with the sense that I was drowning. Or burning.” She lifted her stare to his. “You weren’t there.”

  He groaned and closed his eyes on the horrible realisation. “Of course it is.”

  “I just needed to get out. To get away.”

  “Yes, yes.” He put his arms around her and pulled her towards him but her foot gave a sharp objection. She pulled back and he mistook the vehemence of her denial for something else entirely.

  Rejection slammed against him; but had he really hoped for more? After what he’d done?

  “What do you want, Evie? Is marriage to me so disgusting?”

  Years of hiding how she felt made speech difficult. She weighed up her words, trying to think of the consequences for finally speaking the truth. But uncertainty plagued her. “You’re saying you’re in love with me?” She asked finally.

  “And that I love you,” he agreed simply. “We lost our family, and yet not each other. You are all I have. You and Kalem. I want to make this real. I am sick of speaking to you and not being able to smile as I wish; of not being able to put my arm around you as though we are truly husband and wife. I love you, and I want to show it openly and privately. Always.”

  She expelled a breath of wonderment and nodded, her face showing complete bemusement. “Okay,” she nodded slowly. “I want that too.”

  His laugh was self-deprecating. “You cannot want it simply to relieve my pain,” he said gently. “Already you have done too much forgiving and making exceptions. For me, for Leilani. For everyone. I want to know what you want now.”

  “I want you,” she said simply, honestly. “I fell in love with you years ago. You’re the reason I didn’t stay married. Not just because I desired you but because I loved you whole-heartedly. Arriving in Ishala, I wasn’t sure what to expect. But the second I saw you, I knew that my love was real, and very much as in tact as it had been back then.”

  He made a sound of triumph and again pulled her roughly to his chest but she cried out in pain. He leaned backwards, his eyes skimming her pale face. “What? What is it?” He demanded with soft urgency.

  Evie lifted the fabric of her skirt, revealing the leg that was swollen and scratched. He swore and stood instantaneously, striding to the door and wrenching it sharply inwards. “Call for a doctor,” he said in his own language before returning to his wife’ side. “What happened?”

  “I fell,” she said with a shake of her head. “I wasn’t paying attention. It’s just a sprain.”

  A muscle jerked in his cheek. “We shall let the doctor decide that.”

  “I’m fine,” she demurred, her heart swelling with wonderment at this new turn of events. A strange shyness was filling her soul. “I will be, anyway. I just need to rest it.”

  His eyes glittered as he bent down and lifted her to his chest. He held her cradled there, so that her head was filled with the strong beating of his good heart, and moved through the palace.

  Guards had returned to their usual activity now; several stood silently as Malakhi and Evie passed. What must they have thought of Malakhi carrying his Sheikh in such a fashion? Of her resting with her eyes shut, her smile serene?

  He shouldered the door to their suite open, stepping in with a sense that it was the true moment of making a commitment to one another.

  Gently, so gently, he deposited her on top of their bed, propping her foot up on a pillow. His ministrations made her throat sting with unshed tears. She watched as he left their suite and returned a moment later, Amira at his side. She hovered nervously and listened to his instructions in Ishalan then sent a bright smile towards Evie and disappeared.

  “She will bring tea and breakfast,” he said, a hand resting on her flat stomach.

  So much pain had torn through Evie in recent times that she was surprised she remembered how to feel utterly happy. But in that moment, her heart was lifting out of her chest and soaring above, high into the heavens.

  “I love you.” Wonderment and delight rang through the statement. “It feels so good to be able to say that.”

  “Believe me when I tell you it feels even better to hear it.” He leaned forward, his mouth just an inch from hers. “When you told me that ours was not a marriage of love, I felt as though you had taken a knife and driven it through me. How could I explain that to me this was the truest kind of love-match? One that was undeniable and insatiable? A love that drove me to do unconscionable things?”

  “I didn’t want you to know how I felt,” she said. “I took what Leilani had … revealed … to show that you had only practical reasons for wanting me as your wife. My pride couldn’t quite cope with you knowing what had motivated me.”

  He kissed her gently, and she tasted the apology and truth in the movement of his lips. “She told me she’d seen you yesterday.”

  Evie’s eyes fluttered closed and her cheeks flushed.

  “She seemed to think you had given your approval for her and me to become lovers again.”

  Evie’s eyes were enormous in her face. She fidgeted with her fingers but Malakhi put his hand over them. “Not quite,” she said softly. “She said that we’re both in your life and that it would be easier if we weren’t enemies. I told her I don’t consider her my enemy, or something along those lines.”

  “She is not in my life,” he said. “And before you leap to her defence and demand we start inviting h
er to join us for dinner, Nilam and I agree it is for her own good that she should go away a while.” A frown line formed between his eyes. “I had no consideration for her feelings. She needs time and distance to accept that you are my wife, and that there is no going back.”

  Evie, for all that she wished the other woman well, was thrilled to hear it. “Where will she go?”

  “London,” he smiled. “But that is not our concern.”

  A knock sounded at the door and Malakhi moved to it quickly.

  A man in his forties entered and inspected Evie’s foot. She had to suppress a giggle at the way Malakhi hovered, his expression such a study in concern. The doctor gave instructions to Malakhi and then smiled at Evie before leaving.

  “A sprain,” he said. “Bed rest until you improve.”

  “As I said,” she grinned.

  “You are always right, my dear Jamila.”

  Her fingers pleated the sheet and her gaze moved thoughtfully to the window. Their relationship was flashing before her like a screenplay and in each scene she was trying to detect evidence of his love.

  “Do you remember the day you propositioned me to become your mistress?”

  “With enormous shame,” he said thickly.

  “You were so angry with me.” A shiver ran down her spine as, even then, surrounded by complete faith in his affection, she recalled the way he’d made her sit naked before him, as though she was just a body to him.

  “I have never spoken to a woman – to anyone – like that.” He ran his hand over his eyes. “I was angry. I had been angry with you for years. For leaving me and marrying him. For disappearing from my life. For looking so wonderful and happy in the photographs Sabra would send. For existing and not being mine.” He shook his head ruefully. “Even as I spoke to you, I wanted to shake myself. I didn’t deserve you to agree to my plans. If it hadn’t been for Kalem, you probably would have told me to go to hell.”

  “I was hurt,” she said truthfully, recalling vividly her disbelief in how he was treating her. “But Kalem was only a small part of why I agreed to become your mistress.” She sighed, shaking her head. “We started something years ago and, like you, I’d thought of it ever since.”