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Now it is time we return the favor.
Ayaan wasn’t prepared for it. He would never be.
How could he be, when he didn’t trust himself, when he didn’t know what could break him again, when he was constantly hovering over the thin line between lucidity and lunacy?
But he couldn’t refuse his father, not after everything he had gone through to rule and protect Dahaar, after losing his eldest son and daughter, losing Ayaan to insanity.
His parents had lost everything in one night, but they hadn’t broken. They hadn’t failed in their duty. He couldn’t either.
But suddenly, King Salim’s profuse excuses at tonight’s dinner made sense. His daughter’s absence had been an act of defiance. Not that Ayaan had cared that she was absent. On the contrary, he had been glad that he didn’t need to give the concept of his betrothed a concrete form until that moment was absolutely upon him.
And now here she was, pushing herself into his mind in a way he couldn’t just undo. Within five minutes spent in her company, he already knew more about her than he wanted to learn in a lifetime. She was stubborn, she was brave and the worst? She wasn’t conventional.
“I understood you were too ill to be out and about, Princess Zohra,” he said, forcing utter scorn into his words. “And yet here you are, walking around the palace at night, disrupting a guest’s privacy, offering insult.”
“Do not call me a princess. I have never been one.”
He was too...irritated to even ask her why.
He was chilled to the bone, as he always was when he woke up from one of his nightmares. “Fine. Please tell me why you are in my bed, in my suite, in the palace wing that is strictly forbidden to women, at the stroke of midnight. What was so important that you had to—”
“You were thrashing in the bed, crying out. I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. Nor could I walk away and come back at a better time.”
“Are you deaf? Or just plain dense?” The words roared out of him on a wave of utter shame. He gritted his teeth, fighting for control over a temper that never flared. “Why are you here in the first place?”
The brown of her eyes expanded, her mouth dropping open on a soft huff. His uncivilized words chased away the one thing he couldn’t bear to see—her pity.
“If you think you can scare me into running away by behaving like a savage, it won’t work.”
He could have laughed if he wasn’t so wound up. Every inch of her—her head held high, the deprecation in her look, the stubborn jut of her chin—she was a princess no matter what she said. “If this were Dahaar, I would have—”
“But it’s not Dahaar. Nor am I your loyal subject dependent on your tender mercies,” she said, steel creeping into her words. “This is Siyaad. And even here, all those rules, they don’t apply to me.” Her eyes collided with his, daring him to challenge her claim. When Ayaan said nothing, her gaze swept over his features with a thoroughness that she couldn’t hide. Did she feel the same burn of awareness that arched into life suddenly? “I came to inform you that it’s not worth it.”
Ayaan had known only one woman in his life who had had the temerity and the confidence to speak to him like that—Amira, his older sister. A sliver of pain sliced through his gut. Amira had never let Azeez or him get by with anything. And it had been more because of her core of steel than because she had been born into an extremely powerful family.
He had a feeling the same was true of the woman who met his gaze unflinchingly.
“What is not worth it?”
“Marrying me.”
“Why are you telling me this instead of your father?”
She blinked but it didn’t hide the pain that filled her eyes. “I... He is not well. I could not...take the chance and risk making him worse.”
“Being here with me, persuading me why you are not worth it does not harm him?”
A shrug of those slender shoulders. “If you refuse me, he would be disappointed, yes. But not surprised.”
He frowned at her conclusion. “So you want me to do your dirty work for you?”
She took a deep breath and his curiosity mounted. “I’m not shy, willing, happy to be a man’s shadow—the kind of woman whose only mission in life would be to spew out your heirs every other year. I have never been and it’s not a role one grows into.”
Ayaan smiled, despite the irritation flickering through him.
The woman had gall. And even without her mission statement just now, it was clear she wasn’t a woman who could tolerate the traditional marriage their countries dictated.
Then why was King Salim pushing for this marriage? He had to know that Ayaan and his father would stand beside him without this marriage clause, and yet he had shown more enthusiasm for it.
“If you had attended the dinner and did your duty, I could have told you what I want in my wife.”
She shook her head, her breath quickening. “What is there to learn? The wives—they are nothing but bloodlines and broodmares. Even a harem girl probably has it better than the dutiful wife of the king. At least, she gets good sex out of the...”
He burst out laughing. His chest heaved with it, the sound barreling out of him. Even his throat felt raw in a strange way.
He couldn’t help taking a step toward her.
Pink stole into her cheeks, and she looked away from him, something unintelligible falling from her mouth.
Her long lashes cast shadows onto sharply fragile cheekbones, her mouth—unpainted and pink. The slow burn under his skin gathered momentum. He had never liked the scent of roses growing up, it had pervaded the palace, his own chamber and sometimes, even his clothes. Yet the scent of her skin danced beneath it, teasing, tempting, coated with her awareness of him.
“So you would prefer to be part of my harem instead of my wife?”
Her gaze widened, her mouth opening and closing. “This is my life we’re talking about.”
He came to a stop near her and leaned against the bed, enjoying the proximity of her presence. It didn’t fill him with the suffocating tension that everyone else’s did since his return. “You haven’t said a single word that would make me take you seriously, Princess.” She opened her mouth but he didn’t give her the chance. “All I see is a woman throwing a tantrum like a petulant teenager instead of doing her duty. What if someone had seen you come into my suite? You risk exposing yourself to ridicule and scandal, adding to your father’s burden.”
She didn’t like that. He could see it in her eyes. “Of course, you wouldn’t want someone petulant like me to be the future queen of Dahaar, would you?”
“So, this is all to prove a point?”
“I don’t have any duty toward Siyaad. And nothing will make me feel anything more for Dahaar either.” She took a deep breath, as though bracing herself. “Marrying me will only bring shame to you and the royal house of Dahaar.”
He covered the distance between them, knowing that she was baiting him yet unable to resist. “Why does that sound more like a threat and less like a warning?” he whispered.
“I’m simply telling you the truth. Whatever expectations you have of your bride, I will fail them.”
Ayaan frowned, regretting not learning more about her before he had given his word. “If this is about your expectations of this marriage, state them.”
Zohra tamped down the scream building inside her chest looking for an outlet. He wasn’t supposed to ask her what she wanted out of this marriage. He was supposed to sputter in outrage, call her disobedient, scandalous...
Any other man in his place would have called her behavior an insult. He would have gone straight to her father and broken the alliance.
“The only expectation I have of you,” she said, feeling as though she was stepping over an unknown threshold, “is that you use the power you have to refuse this marriage.”
A neat little frown appeared between his brows. “Unless I have a strong reason for it, it would be termed as an insult to your father, to you and to Siyaad.”
“Isn’t it enough that you have zero interest in marrying me?”
“I have zero interest in marrying anyone. But I will do it for—”
“For your country, yes, I know that,” she spat the words out, feeling that sense of isolation that had been her constant companion for eleven years. She had never belonged in Siyaad, never felt as if she was a part of it. “But I’m not duty bound as you are. All I want is the freedom to live my life away from the shackles of this kind. And if it is a crystal clear reason that you want, then I will give you one.”
“You have my full attention, Princess.” There was a dangerous inflection in his voice where it had been void of anything else before.
She wet her lips, praying her voice would hold steady when she was shaking inside. “I’m not future queen material. I don’t give a fig about duty and all that it entails. I’m educated and I’m smart enough to have my own opinions, which, I have been informed, are enough to drive a man up the wall. I’m a...bastard.” She had to breathe through the lump growing in her throat. “My father lived with my mother until I was seven but he...never married her. He became my guardian when she died.”
Not even by the flicker of an eyelid did he betray his reaction. “Is that all?”
Curse the man to hell and back. Desperation tied her insides into painful knots. “No, there’s one last reason—the most important of all.”
“Don’t stop now,” he said, his voice laced with mockery.
“I’m not a chaste virgin with an unblemished reputation.” Her chest was so tight she wondered if she was getting any air. “I would rather you refuse me now than claim that you’ve been cheated when you...find out.”
He ran his forefinger over his temple, his expression betraying nothing. Her heartbeat ratcheted up. “When I find out that you’re not a virgin?”
Fierce heat blanketed her, even as shock stung her. Why wasn’t the man throwing a royal fit even now? “When you find out that I was in love with another man, when you find out that I have spent four summers with him in a desert encampment...” She swallowed painfully, just the thought of Faisal slashing pain through her.
“That is...a valid reason for me to refuse you,” he finally said.
Zohra felt the most perverse disappointment. He had been unlike anything she had imagined until now.
“So are you prepared for your father’s reaction when I present him with this...reason?”
Her gut dropped to her feet. “What do you mean?”
“I told you. I have no wish to insult your father after everything he has done to stand by mine. You might not feel any duty to your country. But are you so selfish that you would put your father through this? He will not only be shamed by his daughter’s behavior but he will be so in front of an audience.”
She flinched at the distaste in his words. He hadn’t intended to back out for a second. Her gut churned with a powerless clawing. “I have no wish to weaken my father. I merely gave you the truth.”
His gaze was filled with a bitterness that cut through her. “Your ‘truth’ is only useful to me if I can quote it to your father’s face. Our fates are sealed no matter what you or I wish, no matter what skeletons we have in our closets.”
Zohra’s palms turned clammy. He was not backing out. Marrying a stranger, being locked forever into the cage of duty and obligation—the same duty that had ripped her family apart? She would take an uncertain future over that.
She sought and discarded one idea after the other, panic gripping her tight.
“Fine,” she said, her mind already jumping ahead. It had been a waste of time to come here. “I have only one choice left then.”
She turned around, determined to act before the night was up. She couldn’t stay in the palace, in Siyaad for another minute.
She was about to step over the threshold when a hand on her arm pulled her back. A soft gasp escaped her mouth as she was pushed against the wall with sure movements. The muscles in her arms trembled, her senses becoming hyperaware of every little detail about him.
Like the strong column of his throat as his chest fell and rose. Like the tingle in her skin where his fingers touched her.
“I suddenly have great sympathy for your father, Princess. My sister Amira is just as headstrong as you seem to be, but at least, she listens when Azeez or I...”
A dark shadow fell over his face. He had spoken of his sister as though she was still alive. She shouldn’t care about his pain, but it pierced through her anyway.
“Your sister? The one who died five years ago?”
He met her gaze. The pain in it flayed her open. “Yes.” His hands landed on either side of her face. He bent until she could see the light scar over his left eyebrow. Any grief she had seen a moment ago was gone. “Now, tell me what the only choice you have left is.”
She pushed at him, but he didn’t relent. “I’ve not given you the liberty to touch me, Prince Ayaan, neither to haul me around.”
“You should have thought about that before you barged into my room, Princess.” Mockery gave his mouth a cruel slant. “Whatever you do now, I will hold myself responsible for it.”
“You wouldn’t have even laid eyes on me until the wedding if I hadn’t forced my way in here. No one is responsible for my actions or my life but me.”
“I became responsible for you the minute I said yes to this alliance. And I won’t let you cause any more problems for your father.”
“This...” she couldn’t speak for the outrage sputtering through her “...this kind of archaic behavior is what I’m talking about. Your claim just proves how right I am in wanting to get out of this marriage, out of Siyaad.”
“So you’re going to run away in the middle of the night and expose your father to a scandal?”
“I owe my father nothing. Nothing. And I’m not running away, I’m going to exercise my right as an adult and leave. Neither my father nor you can force me into a marriage that I don’t want, nor can you stop me from leaving.”
He took his hands away from her. Not trusting his actions even for a second, Zohra straightened from the wall. Her knees shook beneath her.
“Fine, leave,” he said, displeasure burning in his gaze. “But you leave your father no choice either except to announce my betrothal to your sister. I understand she will be eighteen in a year.”
Bile crawled up Zohra’s throat and pooled in her mouth. How dare he? “Sixteen and a half. My sister is sixteen and a half.”
Only silence met her outburst.
She covered the gap between them, fury eating away at reason. She pushed at him, powerless anger churning in her gut. Saira would never go against their father. She had been born and raised in Siyaad, exposed to nothing but the incessant chatter about duty and obligation despite Zohra’s presence.
“You cannot do that. She...I won’t let my father or you...”
She fisted her hands and let out the cry sawing at her throat.
There was nothing she could do to stop her father from promising Saira in her place. And he would, without blinking. Zohra knew firsthand the lengths to which her father could go for Siyaad.
Her chest felt as if there was a steel band around it, the shackles of duty and obligation sinking their claws into her.
“Saira is innocent, a teenager who still believes in love and happily ever after.”
“And you?”
“They do exist. Just not in this world, in your world. And I will do anything before I let Saira’s happiness be sacrificed in the name of duty.”
“So you’re not completely selfish then.” He moved closer. “What is this world that I belong to, Princess, to which you don’t?”
“It’s filled with duty, obligations, sacrifice...what else? If Saira marries you, you will shatter her illusions, bring her nothing but unhappiness. You would marry a mere girl in the name of duty?”
Disgust radiated from him. “The very thought of betrothal to a sixteen-year-old makes my skin crawl. But Siyaad needs this public alliance. Your father’s heart attacks in the last six months, your brother’s minor status, the latest skirmish at the border? It has made Siyaad weak. This wedding means that the world knows that Dahaar stands by Siyaad. It’s the best chance your father, your people, have of retaining their identity. If something should happen to your father, your brother will have our protection.
“Knowing all this, you refuse this alliance? You risk your country’s future, your brother’s future by acting so recklessly?”
Zohra crumpled against the wall, the fight leaving her. She owed nothing to her father, nor to Siyaad. But Saira and Wasim...if not for them, she would have been so alone all these years. A stranger among her father’s people at thirteen—shattered by her mother’s death and the devastating truth that her father was not only alive, but that he was the sovereign of Siyaad and had a wife and six-year-old son and daughter.
If not for her brother and sister, she would have had nothing but misery. “I had no idea this would benefit Wasim.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
His derision felt like a stinging slap. But this was all her fault.
She had always made it her mission to learn as little as possible about the politics in Siyaad, she had rebuffed her father’s attempts to educate her, to make her active in the country’s politics. If she hadn’t sunk her head in the sand like an ostrich, she would have been better equipped to deal with this situation.
She ran a trembling hand over her forehead, shaking from head to toe. She was well and truly caught, all her hopes for a future separate from duty and obligation crumbling right before her eyes.
“If this is all for Siyaad’s benefit, why are you agreeing to this? You can snap your fingers and find a woman who will be your silent shadow. You clearly already dislike me. You can still refuse this, you can help Siyaad without—”
“Enough!” Bitterness rose up inside Ayaan, burning in his blood like a fire unchecked. He reveled in the anger, in the way it burned away the crippling fear that was always lurking beneath the surface eating away the weight of what his lucidity meant to him. “You think you are anything like the woman I would want to marry if it wasn’t for duty, if it wasn’t to repay the debt my father owes yours?” he said, filling his every word with the clawing anger he felt.
Every inch of color fled from her face and she looked as if he had struck her. And Ayaan crushed the little flare of remorse he felt.
It would have been better if his unwanted wife had been a woman who would scurry at the thought of being in the same room with the Mad Prince. But this defiant woman was what fate had brought him.
There was no point in railing against it. “There is very little that matters left to me, Princess. Except my word. And I would rather be dead than lose that, too.”
“Then, send me back when Wasim turns eighteen, when he doesn’t need your protection anymore, however long that might take. The world will still know that Siyaad has your support. You can claim that I was an unsuitable wife and I will not contest you. You can sever all connections with me and no one will point a finger.”
He shook his head, surprised at the depth of her anger toward their way of life.
To be rid of her when there was no need anymore was an infinitely tempting offer. But there would be no honor in it. “If I send you back, you will become the object of speculation and ridicule. That is a very high price for your freedom, Princess. It will always be tainted in Siyaad.”
He saw the tremor that went through her, the fear that surfaced in her gaze. But of course, she didn’t heed it. He already knew that much about this woman. “Anything is better than being locked in a marriage whose very fabric is dictated by duty and nothing else.”
“Marriage to me doesn’t have to be the nightmare you are expecting.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have very little expectations of my wife. She will live in Dahaar. She will do her duty in state functions by my side. She will be kind and thoughtful to my parents.
“I will not love her nor will I expect her to love me. I don’t even want to see her except in public. This marriage is purely for the benefit of my parents. And I don’t care what you do with your time as long as you don’t bring shame upon Dahaar. Our lives can be as separate as you or I want.”
She frowned, her gaze studying him intently. “What about an heir? Isn’t that part of the agenda that’s passed down to you? Produce as many offspring, male preferably, as soon as possible?”
“How old are you, Princess?”
“Twenty-four.”
“I thought I was too bitter for my age. I have no intention of fathering a son or daughter, Princess, not with you or anyone else, not until...” Not ever if he didn’t find control over his own mind. “How about we revisit the invigorating subject of procreation in say...two years from now?”
She swallowed, drawing his gaze to the delicate line of her throat. “How do I know you won’t change your mind...about everything?”
“I have enough nightmares without the added ones of forcing myself on an unwilling woman. Believe me, the last thing I want is to sleep with you.”
Her gaze sparked with defiance. “If I’m to be stuck in a marriage that will save my sister and benefit my brother, then I might as well be in one with a man who’s just as indifferent to it as I am.”
Ayaan frowned, something else cutting through the pulse of attraction swirling around them. Not only had she elicited a reaction he had thought his body incapable of, but she had annoyed, perplexed and downright aggravated him to the extent that she had so easily banished the backlash from his nightmare, the chills he would have been fighting for the rest of the night.
That she was able to do that when nothing else had worked in the past few months rendered him speechless, tempted him to keep her there, even if it was only to...
Shaking his head, he caught himself. Whatever relief she brought him would only be temporary. “If you have had enough of an adventure, I will walk you back, Princess.”
The smile slipped from her mouth, her gaze lingering on him, assessing, studying. She tucked her hands around her waist, loosened them and hugged herself again. Her indecision crystal clear in her eyes, Ayaan waited, willing her to let it go, willing her to walk away without another word.
Her gaze slipped to the bed and back to him, a caress and a question in it. Every muscle in him tightened with a hot fury. “Will you be okay for the rest of the—”
Forcing his fury into action, Ayaan tugged her forward. “Remember, Princess. You will be my wife only in front of the world. In private, you and I are nothing more than strangers. So stay out of things that don’t concern you and I will do the same.”
CHAPTER THREE
THE WEEK LEADING up to the wedding was the most torturous week that Zohra could remember, even though the wedding day dawned bright and sunny.
Prince Ayaan had left the next morning while Zohra and her family had traveled to Dahaara the day after that, renewed vigor seeping into her father who had been ill for the past month.
It was as though she could hear the ticking of the clock down to an unshakeable chain binding her to everything she hated.
With each passing moment, her confidence in her betrothed’s words faltered, the midnight hour she had spent talking to him becoming fantastic and unreal in her head. Especially as Queen Fatima, Ayaan’s mother, spent every waking hour regaling Zohra about Ayaan’s childhood.
The contrast between the charming, loving boy his mother mentioned and the dark stranger she spoke to in the middle of the night was enough to cast doubt over everything.
Would he not expect anything from her? What kind of a man didn’t even want to lay eyes on his wife?
She tugged the gold-and-silver bangles on to her wrists as the celebrations around the city blared loudly on the huge plasma-screen TV in her suite. The capital city of Dahaara had been decorated lavishly, very much a bride itself, albeit a much happier one, ready for a celebration unlike Zohra had ever seen or heard of.