Time froze as I looked into my husband’s eyes, trying to comprehend his words. The thought of terrorism happening in the Kingdom was the last thing that would ever have crossed my mind.
“What? What are you saying?” I asked, thinking maybe – just maybe – I had heard it wrong. Rather hoping I did.
“A suicide bomber was found in Al’ameria, Marie,” Mazen said quietly, his hand still stroking my arm as he tried to soothe me.
“Oh, my God!” I whispered. I was still unable to believe what I was hearing. “Why would anyone do that? We’re not at war with anybody!”
“Do terrorists ever need a reason, Marie? They have their agenda – thirst for power and control, nothing else.”
“That’s just terrible! Dear God!” I said, feeling my heart thunder in my chest. “You say he was found? How?”
“Two police officers were able to stop him after they saw him behaving suspiciously. He was just a couple minutes away from his destination.”
“Thank God! What was his destination?”
It looked like Mazen hesitated for a second, then he spoke, “To a hospital.”
I got off his lap. “What? A hospital? Who the heck would do that?” My voice was uncontrollably loud. Bombing innocents was never okay, but to bomb a hospital full of sick people? Women and kids, even? I thought that was too low, even for a terrorist.
“We don’t know who, yet. The forensics people tried their best, but the remains of the body were—you don’t need to know that.” He said, and I felt I was going to be sick. “The DNA tests will take some time, but we’re not even sure if we have any sample in the database to match it with.”
“Remains? But I thought you were able to stop him!”
“Unfortunately, he detonated himself the second he realized that he was caught, killing two officers and a passerby.”
I shook my head, sorrow and pain filling my heart. “May they rest in peace,” I said. “I can’t believe you went there knowing it wasn’t safe!”
“It was safe. I was safe,” he said. “What kind of a king would I be if I ran away when my people’s lives were concerned?”
“A smart one?”
“Marie, please! Let’s not argue about this.”
I nodded, pursing my lips to the corner, then a question flashed in my head. “Wait, which hospital?”
Mazen paused before replying. “Queen Marie’s.”
My husband absolutely refused to consider that the Bedouins might be responsible for the terrorist attack. He refused even to think that they might be the slightest bit happy with the trouble that the horrible incident caused.
His trust in them – in their loyalty – was unbelievable. I couldn’t understand this at all.
Mazen’s exact words to me were, “Because they have a bad or ancient lifestyle doesn’t mean they want to harm other people or us. They just grew up knowing nothing but that life, as barbaric as many other people see it – it’s not like that to them. It doesn’t mean they’re terrorists.”
He also told me that I might see things differently if I decided to think of them as something other than my enemies, that they weren’t.
His words held truth. He was utterly convinced that they wouldn’t betray him, or break their word – not this way, anyway.
“Terrorism is the cowards’ root; Bedouins are not cowards,” Mazen had said. I decided that I needed to trust his judgment, just as he always supported mine. I thought that maybe someday I would believe it for real.
As Mazen got busy with the investigation into the attack, I was attending to Azza’s case. It was pretty challenging to determine the real cause of death since the body was almost non-existent. But the investigators eventually concluded that she had bled to death – the same thing that could happen to anyone eaten by wild animals.
It was demoralizing to reach a dead end after digging up Azza’s grave and testing her remains. But I wasn’t going to stop seeking justice for her.
With advice from a good lawyer friend, who happened to be my mother-in-law, we learned that the best way was to investigate and interview each and every one of her family members so we could get a lead without exposing Donia as the person who’d brought the matter up to me. It was for her protection.
Amazingly, it worked.
Azza’s sister, who was a year younger than she, told the police that Azza had been very sick after the party. She fell asleep and never woke up; that their mother had cried so hard as she called her name, but Azza never responded.
It was the key that the police needed to discover all about the circumcision without having any trail leading to Donia or to me. The case was reopened.
The Bedouins didn’t know about Donia’s secret visit to the palace since her husband had given her an alibi. However, they weren’t so stupid to not know that a member of their tribe ratted them out.
Justice was served. Well, sort of.
It was even more disturbing to learn that a parent could not be executed for murdering one of his children. Well, to be precise, a father. On the other hand, a mother would easily be sentenced to death or imprisoned for decades if she did the same.
It was pretty messed up. It made me pull out my hair at how many laws in the Kingdom were cruel and unjust. If I started changing them, I might end up doing nothing else but that for the rest of my life.
The monster – in the form of an old lady whose job was to mutilate females in that horrible way – who cut Azza, as well as her parents were punished with prison time of ten years. One of her parents would stay free to take care of the rest of the family, but under the police’s control, until the first was finished serving their time; then they swap. One more law that gave me ambivalent feelings.
It wasn’t a sufficient punishment, but it had to do. At least, I had done something, right?
Deep down, I thought that there were so many other things left to do. I might have saved Azza’s younger sister. It was hard to believe the mother may try to circumcise her after all that happened: losing her firstborn forever, her husband going to jail, and later she would also be imprisoned.
But was it really enough? What about other families? What about Donia and the baby in her stomach? What kinds of injustice the baby would face if it turned out to be a girl? The questions kept running through my mind.
I gave Donia a cell-phone with my private number on it and made her promise to call me if she felt that she was in any danger. But would that help?
“You can’t save everyone,” Mazen had told me over and over again. Was it crazy to actually feel the need to save everyone? I wanted to. I knew I wouldn’t get any kind of rest – real rest – until I’d done everything in my power to give women in my Kingdom the rights that they craved and deserved but had never demanded.
I wanted to give them dignity.
“You have to accept the fact that everyone has a choice; we do our best, but it’s their own choices that get them to the point where they’re standing right now, whatever that is,” Mazen had said. “Marie, we’re a king and a queen. Rulers, not gods! If you can’t accept that, know that guilt will eat your soul slowly.”
Guilt was already eating at my soul.
Maybe he had a point, perhaps I really couldn’t save everyone or force them to make the right choices. But I would, at least, try.
Two weeks passed since my last friendly encounter with Rosanna. I’d seen her many times since my freak-out, but the meetings were always short. She would deliver a report that needed to be handed directly to me, or explain a point that needed further clarification, and that would be it.
She did her job as a member of the royal family and an important minister, but it was her position as my best friend that I missed like crazy.
Every time I saw her, I attempted to apologize, but she never gave me the chance. She was smart about choosing the times when she knew I would have an office full of people. I wanted to go to her but was too afraid of being unwelcome. I wanted to invite her over but thought that would be rude considering what I needed her for: to apologize again and explain things.
My life in the Kingdom was bitter and lonely without her; it wasn’t a surprise to realize that she made living in the palace sweet and tolerable, aside from my loving husband.
I couldn’t believe that two full weeks went by without either of us bugging the other with banter that we were too old for. I was sure Rosanna missed me like I missed her. I refused to believe that this might be the norm from now on, that my life could go on without her friendship.
We loved each other more than to let a mistake separate us. Or could it be that my insult was beyond her ability to bear and forgive? It was what scared me the most.
I didn’t tell Mazen what happened between his cousin and me. It was actually too embarrassing to admit that, for a mere second, I thought Rosanna would ever want to hurt my baby or me.
Every night, I prayed that I’d get my best friend back.
Friday noon was boring to me sometimes. Every Friday, after having breakfast with me and being all lazy in bed, Mazen would leave for Friday prayer and stay to listen to the weekly lecture. He might only be gone for an hour or two, but to me, it always felt like centuries.
In the Middle East, weekends were celebrated on Friday and Saturday, not Saturday and Sunday like I’d always known all of my life. The change confused me at first, but I’d gotten used to it. As King and Queen, we only got Friday off. I believed that if Friday wasn’t a holy day for Muslims, we might have not gotten even that break.
Once Mazen left, I decided to watch a movie or something until he got back. I found Sameera and Soha – another maid that only came a few hours a day to help with cleaning – in the living area, dusting.
Soha apologized once she noticed me and said they would leave until I was finished, so as not to disturb me. Sameera, meanwhile, only stood back and got busy with fielding with something stuck in the vacuum cleaner.
I told them to pretend I wasn’t there and go on with what they had to do. Soha said they would be as fast as possible, which I replied to with a nod and a smile.
Sighing, I grabbed the remote and started flipping channels.
The two maids were arguing about something. Soha was trying her best to speak quietly. I couldn’t make it out at first, but as their argument continued, I started to get a good idea of what was going on.
Apparently, Sameera had a hard time working the vacuum, or even turning it on. It was different from the ones she used in the past, and she insisted they were better than this ‘useless’ one.
“Okay. I’ll turn it on, don’t start crying!” Soha whisper-yelled in Arabic, but I was still able to hear her, and Sameera did start crying.
Sometimes I really felt bad for the girl. She was so naïve. However, that made her more innocent in my eyes and was precisely why Rosanna had chosen her to be my maid. She trusted that Sameera would never betray me; she just wouldn’t know how to do it.
Thinking about Rosanna made me resume fretting about her and our friendship, but just before I let the sadness I felt consume me, Sameera’s voice grabbed my attention again.
“No, don’t turn it on and leave! I will need to turn it on again, and I won’t know what to do,” Sameera wailed. “Teach me how to turn it on.”
Soha blew out a long breath. “It’s so easy, just do this, and this–” she said as she clicked some buttons, “And then pull this–…”
“No, not this way!” Sameera interrupted. “Let me do it myself. Watch me as I do it, tell me where I go wrong, and wait until I perfect it.”
Whoa!
Something in my mind clicked, and I actually forgot all about the TV and sat there, watching them. I watched as Sameera did everything as Soha instructed. It took only two tries, and Sameera knew exactly what to do to turn the vacuum on.
Only five minutes later, Sameera was celebrating her small victory as if she’d just graduated college. I was smiling widely as I watched the joy in her eyes.
Not only that, she even asked Soha to show her how to change the mode and gadgets that needed to be used on different floors, and Soha taught her that as well.
Sameera’s happiness with her accomplishment was so honest, and she felt so confident that she actually told Soha to leave. Sameera’s happiness doubled when she completed the job all by herself without needing her colleague again.
Standing up, I joined her at the end of the room as she tried to collect the vacuum after finishing the whole chore.
“Do you need something, Your Majesty?”
“No. I just wanted to ask, what just happened there.”
“Like what? I didn’t do anything wrong!” she said. “Did I?”
I chuckled. “No, you didn’t. You worked the vacuum all by yourself!”
Her eyes brightened, and a smile decorated her face. “Oh! Did you see that? I did it all by myself!”
“Way to go, girl,” I cheered.
“It’s been four or five months here, or something, right?” she asked, not needing an answer, but more like telling me. “Soha turned on the vacuum for me every. Single. Time. But today, I did it all by myself.” she said proudly, stressing her last words.
“I saw that.”
“Once she taught me, I didn’t need her help anymore. I finally knew how to do it right,” she grinned. “Some education was all I needed.”
My eyebrows shot up, and my lips parted, not believing my ears; Sameera had just solved one of the biggest difficulties I was facing without even knowing it.
“Girl, you had just said one of the smartest things I’ve ever heard.” I smiled brightly at her.
“I did?” she asked, looking confused.
“You did,” I chuckled.
“Okay.” She just shrugged her shoulders and told me she had to go clean another room.
I shook my head and laughed; I guess she would never change.
Hurrying back to my bedroom, I arrived the same second that Mazen got back from the mosque. I half-ran to him and hugged him tightly. My husband was taken by surprise.
“Whoa! Easy there, tiger princess, you’ll get yourself dizzy.”
“You won’t believe what just happened!”
“What?” I could hear the smile in his voice as he rubbed my back.
“I figured it out, Mazen. I figured it all out!” I screamed excitedly as I took a step back, throwing my arms in the air.
“Wow! That’s amazing!” he grinned. “Now, what is it that you’ve figured out?”
I punched his chest playfully, causing him to chuckle. “Sameera just gave me the smartest idea!”
“Sameera?” he asked, and I nodded with a grin.
“Our Sameera?”
I nodded again.
“Smartest and Sameera?” he asked again, and I had to laugh, then nodded one more time. “Wow!”
“It’s brilliant!”
“Okay, crazy princess. Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or will you just keep jumping around?” he asked, then looked at my baby bump, “I mean, attempt to jump?”
“You’re such a jerk!” I laughed. “I’m not going to tell you anything.”
“You won’t?”
“I won’t.”
“Are you sure?” he tightened his eyes playfully.
I gave him a challenging look. “Make me,” I said, and ran away. Well, attempted to run.
Three Fridays later, I was sitting on our bed, with Mazen supporting my back with his body as I leaned back on his chest. My lower lip was trapped between my teeth as I bit down on it. My whole body was warming up to my husband’s warm touches.
“Oh, Mazen! So good!” My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I felt his breath on the back of my neck right before he placed a soft kiss right behind my ear.
“You’re making the sweetest noises,” he told me.
“And you’re making the sweetest touches. So relaxing.”
“You deserve it, you had the longest week.”
“It was one of the best weeks of my life. I finally feel like I accomplished something,” I said in a low voice as Mazen’s touches continued.
“You’ve already accomplished many things, love. You’re such a blessing to this country.” He kissed behind my ear again.
“I’m happy that I finally found the right path: education was what they need. Information will help them make the right choices.”
Ever since that day with Sameera, I started planning campaigns that focused on educating women and men about women’s right, and about their religion.
Yes, religion. I was shocked to learn that they didn’t know that Islam forbids any act such as Common Deflowering to be practiced and that Female Circumcision, if it wasn’t medically needed, shouldn’t be practiced. They didn’t know that Islam considers both acts as the great sin that they were.
Their black key was right there in front of me – and them – all this time, but they didn’t know how to reach it.
I fervently hoped that my campaigns would work in educating them – especially the Bedouin community – about their rights, and the errors and consequences of their practices. It actually worked.
Day after day, I started receiving report after report about women attending the meetings in large numbers, which increased each new meeting.
Education was the best solution; it might take quite some time to work perfectly, but I had faith it would. I had never been so sure of anything like I was on this matter.
Finally, I didn’t feel like a failure for the first time since Donia’s wedding.
“I’m happy I’ve found you,” Mazen whispered, warming my heart with his sweet words.
His hands kneaded the back of my shoulders gently, giving me the best massage ever. His thumbs were making the softest of circles just above my shoulder blades.
“Where did you learn to be so good at this?” I asked breathlessly.
“I didn’t,” his voice was just above a whisper. There was no way he was that perfect in giving a massage by nature – could it be?
“How come?” I gasped, his hands making all of the right touches.
“I’m listening very carefully to your moans, hayaty. It’s so beautiful,” he breathed out. He called me ‘my life’ in Arabic, making me realize that he was already losing it. Although, he really didn’t need to say anything for this massage was turning into something else, and very quickly. His massive erection had been rubbing my lower back for quite a while now.
I turned around awkwardly to touch my mouth to his, kissing him sweetly, which quickly turned into a hungry and impatient one: tongues tasting, and lips sucking.
Mazen’s hands moved to the top of my shoulders, and he gave them a good squeeze while his lips stayed on mine, and then he touched my breasts through my light gown.
I moaned into his mouth as he circled my nipples, and the whole world disappeared leaving only me, him, and the ache between my legs.
Suddenly, Mazen squeezed my breasts with some pressure, and I yelped in pain.
“Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry, princess. Are you okay?” Mazen said in one breath, backing away and adjusting his position so he’d be able to look me in the eye.
I touched my breasts lightly with one hand, using the other hand to support myself on the bed. “No, it’s okay. I’m fine. My breasts are very tender, that’s all,” I told him, a slightly pained look on my face.
“I’m so sorry. I got lost in the moment and completely forgot.” He got off the bed and stood a step away, looking very guilty.
“Don’t be sorry, silly,” I reassured him. “Nothing happened. Come back, and let me take care of that,” I said as I looked at his bulge in his boxer-briefs, and then bit my lower lip.
Mazen shook his head. “No, don’t worry about that. I got carried away. We shouldn’t be doing this anyway.”
My eyes rolled back again, but for an entirely different reason this time. “I told you I’m fine. Are you seriously going to listen to Dr. Maya about that?”
“Of course, I will,” he said. “Once a day is enough. You already suffer from cramps every now and then, and that’s not good.”
“It happens to most women,” I argued. “I told you I’m feeling fine,” and crazily turned on.
“Maybe later, princess.”
“Do you want me to beg? Because I will.” I gave him a seductive look.
“God! You’re killing me!” He pulled on his messy hair.
“You too,” I said. “We didn’t even do it at all today!” I faked innocence, which made Mazen chuckle.
“We made love not twelve hours ago; just because it was before midnight and now it’s ten in the morning doesn’t change anything.” He shook his head, laughing, “Nice try, though.”
I actually pouted like a two-year-old when I saw there was no way I could convince him. He wanted to follow the doctor’s orders since Adam had already dropped, two and a half months too early.
My pout turned into a dirty look when Mazen stretched his body and then palmed his erection through his underwear. The jerk only chuckled, so I told him exactly what I thought of him.
“You’re mean.”
“I love you too, princess,” he said as he made his way to the bathroom.
“If you touch yourself in there …” I called after him, but before I could finish, he turned around, blew me a kiss then winked before closing the door behind him.
Ugh! I wanted to strangle him. Or make love to him. Or a little bit of both.
The next day, Mazen had to fly to Dubai to meet with the leader of the princedom.
We both hated that he had to leave, especially now; he needed to be nearby lest – God forbid – I have an early childbirth given my condition. But he promised he’d be home tonight; I couldn’t ask for more than that.
That afternoon, my mother-in-law unexpectedly came to my wing, letting herself in after knocking just once. She had already made me lunch an hour ago and put a full basket of fruits near me to snack on – not to mention the already prepared food in the locked fridge that I could always heat in a minute if I wanted a full meal at any time. So, I wasn’t sure why did she return.
What I also found weird was what she was wearing –it was actually an abaya that I’d seen her wear before. Most of the royal family never wore the same outfit twice. We gave it away, or if it was too expensive or valuable – like the dress I wore on the day of coronation – that went to a museum.
I remembered that abaya very well because it had a pattern that reminded me of some pharaonic decorations on temples I’d seen in books about the ancient Egyptians and how they lived.
Not only that but for the past several months, Queen Mother Shams had only used the secret door to reach my wing; she never used the outside doors.
Weird.
I didn’t dwell on it. I was weary, and already counting the minutes until Mazen’s arrival.
“Hey!” I said, sprawled on the couch near the bedroom’s main door.
“Hello!” she whispered, and I raised my head to look at her as I heard her voice. Something was off about her, and it caused a chill to run down my spine. I wasn’t fair to her by feeling edgy by her mere presence, but her voice sounded odd, like a witch’s voice from horror movies.
“Are you okay? What’s wrong with your voice?” I asked her, still trying to figure out why she was making me feel off. I thought my uneasiness around her was a thing of the past.
Maybe I was wrong after all, and I was still uncomfortable in her company? Maybe.
“I caught a cold,” she replied in Arabic, which was even weirder than everything else.
“Okay,” I said, resting my head back on the couch, determined not to show her that she was making me uncomfortable, I didn’t want to be rude.
“I have a request,” she whispered.
Something told me that this couldn’t be good. Whatever she needed from me— it just couldn’t be good.
I wish I had listened to my intuition.