29
“Input into the matter? Did you perhaps consider just raising your hand when the cleric said the Arabic equivalent of ‘Speak now or forever hold your tongue?’ ” Lora said to the tall, snow-white Princess of Monestonia. “I need to know my friend Carmen is OK! She damn well better be OK, or else . . .”
The princess had jet-black hair, straight as arrows, and blue eyes that would make a Siberian husky feel lacking. She was beautiful like a doll or a painting, and Lora wasn’t even certain she was real until she spoke.
“I am not certain you are in any position to speak in sentences that end with ‘or else,’ ” said Marissa. “Hello. How are you, Lora Langhorne? I am Princess Marissa. And yes, your friend is quite all right. She is with Amir, and I suspect they are plotting their next move.”
Lora exhaled, frowning slightly at the strange introduction. Did Marissa really need to introduce herself? “Good,” she said, trying to stick with the confidence that was coming from a place inside her she didn’t know existed. Maybe Carmen was right. Maybe she was a different woman now. She glanced at Damascus, who was sleeping on the couch beside her. The child had slept through a lot of drama, she thought as she scanned the room.
They’d been taken to a hotel a few miles outside of New Orleans, and this was clearly the best suite they had. It had three rooms and looked very comfortable, though from the way Princess Marissa was perched on the armchair without touching the back or sides, she was clearly not used to such down-market furnishings.
“So what do you think your husband-to-be and best friend are planning right now?” Marissa said, smiling a doll-like smile that Lora could tell had been rehearsed a million times over the years.
“Well, Amir was able to find me at an abortion clinic, so I figure it won’t take long for him to track down where a blue-eyed Princess has booked a hotel room in the New Orleans metro area,” Lora said, surprised at how smug she sounded. What was up with her? Shouldn’t she be scared for herself? For Damascus? After all, this woman had cold-hearted psycho written all over her. And if she wanted Amir . . .
Marissa nodded thoughtfully as if she really hadn’t considered that. “Well, we had better take care of things quickly then. Here you go,” she said, reaching for a vial of blue liquid on a side table. “You can mix it with water or juice if you’d like, but I find it is best to simply swallow it clean. The taste is not so bad, and it works faster that way.”
“Um, what works faster that way?” Lora said, fear finally whipping through her as she glanced at the vial and then into Marissa’s cold blue eyes that had a strange, vapid innocence to them.
Marissa smiled. “Do not fear. I am not trying to poison you. I considered simply having you eliminated, but I fear killing you would negatively affect my chances of Amir following through on our arrangement.”
“What arrangement?” Lora said, speaking slowly as she stalled for time, doing her best not to look at that blue vial as she felt a sickness rise in her belly.
“You do know Amir had agreed to marry me and join the kingdoms of Monestonia and Johaar. Then he discovered you were carrying his child, and now oh, look, he is marrying you!” Marissa snorted, sounding like a pony as she did it. “Clearly it is the child that he wants and not you, so if the child is eliminated, then he will have no reason to marry you.”
Lora stared at this black-haired, blue-eyed woman and wondered if she was serious. It took a minute, but then Lora saw that strange, hollow innocence in the woman’s eyes and she realized that shit, yes, this woman was completely serious. She really thought in straight lines, with cold, simple logic, like a goddamn machine. In Marissa’s mind Amir switched gears the moment he found out Lora was pregnant, and so it seemed obvious to Marissa that if the pregnancy was ended, Amir would switch back to her like it was nothing!
Lora glanced at that vial again, suddenly figuring out what it was: Some kind of concoction that would end her pregnancy! An abortion potion! No way!
“I’m not drinking that,” Lora said firmly, glancing past Marissa at the two burly European men standing at the door to the suite. “Listen, Marissa. Amir is . . . I mean, Amir will . . .” Lora stammered as she tried to find the right words, but as a tight smile curled on Marissa’s lips, Lora felt herself begin to lose hope. The blue-eyed Princess had her trapped with her machine logic, didn’t she: If Lora tried to argue that Amir was marrying her because he loved her and not because she was carrying his child, then Marissa could calmly say: Well, go ahead and drink the potion then, and we will see if he still wants to marry you!
“Yes. I think I understand what you are trying to say,” said Marissa, nodding almost earnestly as she leaned forward with the vial. “Amir will be very upset if he hears that I forced you to abort his child. He has not forgiven me for the first abortion. I doubt he will forgive me for a second.” She shrugged, glancing at Damascus and then back at Lora. “And so this choice will be yours to make.”
“What choice?” Lora whispered, picking up on the way Marissa had glanced at Damascus.
“The choice of which child you want to give up. The one living and breathing by your side. Or the one unborn and unnamed within your womb.”
Lora almost fainted as the blood rushed from her head. For a moment she wanted to grab Damascus and make a run for it, perhaps dive through the damned window if she had to. But those two men were guarding the door, and there was no way she was getting away with any physical heroics. She’d have to talk her way out of this. Stall for time and just hope the Sheikh’s men found her.
“You can’t be serious,” Lora said softly, careful not to wake Damascus. She looked over at her sleeping son and then back at Marissa, and in that moment she knew that Marissa was capable of it, that the woman was dead behind those doll-like blue eyes, that she didn’t feel things like a normal human does. “How would that get Amir back to you?” she asked, realizing that she’d have to use logic and not emotion to win this war of words.
“Simple,” said Marissa, smiling like she was delighted at being asked to explain her cold, crisp reasoning. “If you choose to keep Damascus and sacrifice Amir’s unborn child, the Sheikh will never forgive you. He will never even look at you again, let alone marry you!”
“Perhaps. But when he finds out it was you who forced me to drink that abortion-potion, do you think he’s going to put you back on his throne?” Lora countered, crossing her arms and sitting up straight on the uncomfortably firm hotel-room couch.
Marissa shrugged. “Not immediately. But eventually he might. He understands the logic behind joining our kingdoms, the way it would play in the press, what it would mean for both the perception and the economies of our kingdoms for generations to come. He agreed to take me back not because he loved me or because he forgave me, but because he is a king and he understands that sometimes a ruler must choose the good of his kingdom over his personal gratification.” She took a breath and nodded, crossing one long leg over a bony white knee and shrugging again. “And in the end, it has to be you who will make the choice to drink the potion. I will not force it down your throat. And so it will be your choice to kill Amir’s child instead of another man’s child, and whether or not Amir admits it, that will matter. Your choice will mean something. It will mean everything.”
Lora closed her eyes and slowly shook her head. She couldn’t believe Amir would ever take Marissa back under those circumstances, but what Marissa said about Amir being a king and making a decision for his kingdom and not himself made some sense. Perhaps it would play out that way. Certainly Lora couldn’t be sure it wouldn’t play out that way, yes? After all, Amir had taken Marissa back once. And if Lora chose to abort the Sheikh’s child, even under duress . . . who knew what he’d do!
“OK,” Lora said, opening her eyes and blinking. “What if I choose to . . . I mean, what if I choose . . . the other option,” she finally said through gritted teeth even as her eyes darted to the windows and door, hoping against hope that armed men were about to burst in and end this sick joke.
“You will not,” Marissa said confidently. “I am capable of killing Damascus for what I see as my destiny, my future, my responsibility to my kingdom. But you are not capable of giving up your first born, even in exchange for the man of your dreams.” She shook her head again, clearly pleased with herself. “I calculated that the odds are overwhelmingly in favor of you choosing to abort Amir’s child. You really have no other option, Lora. Correct me if I am wrong. Go on.”
Lora blinked, cocking her head slightly as a frown twisted her face. A chill ran through her as she studied Marissa’s expression, her pale skin, her soulless blue eyes, raven-dark hair. Who was this woman? She might be ruthless and cold, but she was also smart and perceptive, and even though Lora still believed Marissa didn’t really feel much emotion about anything, clearly she understood how emotions worked in others.
This woman might make a good queen, came the thought out of nowhere as Lora took slow breaths and tried to unravel the puzzle of Marissa as she felt the clock tick away in the background. Yes, she’d make a damned good queen. An awful wife, perhaps. A terrifying mother, certainly. A treacherous friend, no doubt. But one hell of a ruler if she was secure in her position.
Lora felt the wheels turn in her head as she went over what she knew about Marissa from the little the Sheikh had said about her and from what she’d read on the Internet and in magazines. And then she realized the answer lay in just that: How little Amir had said about her. The only emotion Amir ever acknowledged having was anger about her betrayal: the secret abortion. And Marissa had never acknowledged having any emotional attachment to Amir. She didn’t sound or act like a love-sick ex-fiancée looking for a second chance. She didn’t care if Amir took her back a year from now, so long as he did it. Marissa never wanted Amir for anything but a throne—not three years ago and not now. But now things were different in Monestonia, weren’t they? From what Lora had read, Marissa had a real chance at ascending to the throne, whereas three years ago there were two cousins squarely in line to ascend before her!
And then it hit Lora, and she saw the flaw in the Princess’s plan, the chink in Marissa’s armor, the blind spot: Marissa couldn’t imagine getting that throne on her own. She’d never imagined sitting on a throne alone as queen and supreme ruler! Oh, God, in a way Marissa was trapped by the little girl’s dream of a prince and a castle and a happily-ever-after too—except Marissa’s dream was about the castle and the kingdom. The prince was only incidental.
“Did you ever consider what it would be like to be Queen of Monestonia alone? Without a king by your side? Just you in full control of your kingdom?” Lora said, blinking as she prayed she was playing this right.
Marissa frowned, her head cocking to one side, her eyes looking up and to the left. She froze in that position for what seemed like a long time, and Lora was reminded of a scene from some movie where a robot’s brain gets scrambled because something just does not compute.
“What do you mean?” Marissa said, still frowning.
“I mean, you clearly have no interest in being a mother. I don’t think you’re particularly interested in being a wife. The only thing you seem to care about is becoming queen—and you’re prepared to do anything for it, including kidnapping, blackmail, and murder! You’re also willing to marry a man you don’t love. But listen, what if there was another way! What if you didn’t need to marry Amir to become Queen of Monestonia!”
Marissa shook her head, the blue lights flicking back on in her eyes. “Well, I don’t know any other kings,” she said matter-of-factly. “That’s why I came back to Amir after three years. He was my best option. I don’t know any other kings, and a queen needs a king. I can’t expect my aunt and uncle to make me queen if I marry a nobody!”
The moment she said it Lora knew she was on the right path. She could short-circuit this Barbie-doll psycho’s robotic brain by breaking her out of that fairytale fantasy that all little girls grow up with—even psychotic little girls.
“But what about just marrying . . . nobody?” Lora whispered, leaning forward and looking into Marissa’s eyes as deeply as she dared. “Think about what’s going on in the world today with the Women’s Rights movements! You’re so conscious of how things would play out in the press, aren’t you? So you think it through and tell me, Marissa: How would it play out for a smart, gorgeous, articulate, and photogenic European Princess to take over as Queen. Just Queen. A Queen without a king. Supreme ruler. All powerful. A woman on her own. How would that play in the press? How would it play out if you started talking about it right now in interviews with the New York Times and CNN, Marissa? Do you think your aunt and uncle might pay attention? Do you think that might sway them just as much as marrying Amir might? And you could achieve that without having to threaten or kill anyone! How does that compute? How do those probabilities add up? Tell me, Marissa. Go on, tell me! Speak now, or forever hold your tongue!”