Chapter Sixteen
Hyacinth paced outside the throne room while doing her best to resist the urge to place her ear to the doors and listen in. Sheikh Tarif had been closeted inside of it with the king for over an hour now, and once in a while she would end up jumping at the sound of the king raising his voice. It was rare for any of the Al-Atassi sheikhs to be at odds with each other, but in this case, it had been inevitable.
Sheikh Tarif’s photos had been all over the news the entire week, with paparazzi gleefully documenting his every date. He had been seen with a different woman each night – a regular occurrence in his life, admittedly, but this time it was different since just last week he had also claimed Hyacinth’s sister as his fiancée.
Kyria and Queen Harper had told her that the other Al-Atassi sheikhs were extremely displeased with how Tarif was acting, but none of them had felt the right to interfere because it was a personal matter. This morning changed that, though.
In a closed-door meeting with other ambassadors, a deeply religious foreign dignitary had taken exception to Tarif’s presence. The other man had refused to do business with the sheikh because of his flagrant act of infidelity towards his intended. The old Tarif could have easily talked and charmed his way out of the predicament, and no doubt everyone had expected the sheikh to do so.
But instead the sheikh had responded aggressively towards the allegation and displayed none of the tact and panache he used to. By the time the king was called to intervene, the dignitary had been threatening to cut his nation’s ties with Ramil. Rayyan had been left to smooth everyone’s ruffled feathers, and as for Tarif –
The massive double doors of the throne room finally opened, and Hyacinth held her breath as she watched Sheikh Tarif emerge. The icy, hard expression on his handsome face was somewhat daunting, and Hyacinth had to remind herself her purpose for seeking the sheikh out.
All her life, Anisah had been there for her. It was her turn now to help her older sister out.
Tension gripped the sheikh’s powerful form the moment he saw the young woman approaching him. Forcing himself to go still, he gave her a brief nod, saying curtly, “Lady Hyacinth.”
“Sheikh Tarif, good evening.” Hyacinth belatedly remembered to bow in greeting. “M-May I have a moment of your time?”
Tarif remembered the last time they had met – it was at the bookstore at Al Sahna, and by the time he had arrived, Hyacinth had already worked herself up to a fine temper, and she had alternated between taking him to task for hurting her sister and demanding he take responsibility for Anisah.
I don’t know what you did, sheikh, but whatever it is you did – you must pay for it! My sister is happy acting like a robot, but ever since she got home she has been acting too human, and it is not right!
She is the best sister one can have! And sure, she may be quite the cheapskate, but not with people she loves! She sacrificed everything for me!
Yes, I know my older sister can be terribly haughty and proud, but when we were young, her pride was all she had. She hadn’t wanted other people to find out that our father beat her constantly because she was afraid what it would do to me if I learned the truth about him.
It’s true she can act like a fanatic when it comes to serving the kingdom, but you don’t know what she had to go through when she was young. There were people who believed that an 11-year-old Anisah was old enough to actually connive with my father, and they thought this was reason enough to mistreat my sister.
Initially, he had only decided to hear her out for a bit simply because he knew Rayyan would be on his case if the other sheikh believed Tarif had disrespected his woman. He would listen to her but not believe a word she said. That had been the plan, but by the time she had finished, he realized that if Hyacinth had sought him out in hopes of putting in a good word for her sister, then she couldn’t have botched the job any better than she had.
Anisah was a robot, a fanatic, and a cheapskate. Anisah was this and that.
She hadn’t even seemed aware she had been insulting and complimenting her sister in the same sentence, and it was that, more than anything else, which had convinced the sheikh to believe in Hyacinth and – later on – give up on Anisah.
Hyacinth’s words had made him think he knew the real Anisah, enough to make him think he did not deserve her. Now – he didn’t even seem to know himself anymore.
“If you’re here to defend your sister and convince me to give her another chance---”
It was rare for Hyacinth to lose her temper in public, but the sheikh’s words incensed her so that she found herself snapping, “It is you who should beg my sister for another chance!” Drawing herself up, she continued tightly, “My sister doesn’t know I heard her on the phone earlier. She was speaking with a member of the press, and she has agreed to meet with the journalist tomorrow on the condition that the resulting write-up will exonerate you and ensure that you regain public favor.”
Stepping away, Hyacinth said bitterly, “I still don’t know what happened between the two of you, Your Highness. My sister refuses to speak of you in any way. But what I do know is the kind of person my sister is, and if I could do things over again, I would never have called you that night.”
****
At close to six in the evening, the staff kitchen was noisy and crowded, with palace employees happily indulging in chitchat while they prepared dinner. For tonight, Anisah was slated to do the dishwashing, and so she had reluctantly set aside her abaya so she could put on an apron over a large old shirt and jeans. The sight of her in Western clothes had everyone snickering, but she only rolled her eyes to this.
“Do none of you get tired making a big deal out of this,” Anisah muttered crossly as she took her place before the sink.
“Won’t you ever get tired of treating our robes like they’re made of spun gold?” Edna, one of the palace’s station cooks, retorted.
“I just don’t like it when I dirty my robe unnecessarily,” she protested.
“Ha! I don’t believe ‘don’t like’ is an accurate term.” Mila, the chambermaid standing next to Anisah, snorted as she pulled a drawer open and took out a chopping board. “The last time you ended up with a stain on your abaya, you totally freaked out.”
Anisah made a face when everyone nodded profusely, as if reminiscing about some kind of shared nightmare. “So I value our national garment,” she said with stiff dignity. “Is that so horrible?”
“Yes,” a data encoder in Sheikh Rayyan’s finance department affirmed with a grin. “Horribly funny, that is!”
The whole kitchen laughed, but even as she pretended to turn her back on them with a huff, Anisah was more relieved than anything else by their continued teasing. It was their way of letting her know that she was still one of them, in spite of the fact that the sheikh had just last week declared her as his fiancée, only to start womanizing---
Don’t go there, Anisah.
She quickly reached for her gloves and started cleaning the dishes with singlehanded focus. This was how she had survived the entire week, working on each task one at a time and like her life depended on it. Working so hard prevented her mind from dwelling where it wasn’t supposed to go, her body from feeling what it’s supposed to feel---
Tory.
Oh no. Anisah scrubbed the bottom of the pan with greater force. This was a first, she thought uneasily, and this was bad.
Tory.
She was now hearing things she was not supposed to hear, literally---
The chambermaid chopping vegetables beside her stopped. “Umm, Anisah?”
Lowering the pan to the sink, she turned to the other woman reluctantly. “Yes?”
“I think…the sheikh wishes to, umm, talk to you?”
Anisah jerked.
“Tory.”
She looked at Mila. “Did you also hear that?” The other woman nodded, and Anisah slowly peeled off her gloves. The sheikh…was truly here? The gloves slipped off her suddenly nerveless fingers. They fell to the kitchen’s sparkling-clean floor soundlessly, but she flinched all the same, the sight no different from a detonating bomb as it forced her to confront the truth.
I can’t talk to him.
As soon as the words formed in her already-hazy mind, she made a run for it. Or at least she gave it her best shot. She was fast, but the sheikh was faster, and cries of shock rose inside the vast kitchen when the sheikh lunged for her.
His arm shot out, his fingers curling around her arm, and Anisah cried out, “No!” His touch burned, painfully so. It hurt her because it still felt good…when it was not supposed to.
She looked away as soon as he had spun her around to face him, but even so Tarif managed to catch sight of her bright, tear-stained eyes.
Smiles are a luxury to her, and so are her tears.
And since he himself knew how Anisah, the woman who took pride in having only ten pieces of clothing in her wardrobe, felt about luxury –
“I’m sorry.” He felt her stiffen, but still she didn’t look at him, and he did not blame her for it. “I’m sorry, Tory.” He spoke quietly but clearly; he wanted everyone to hear and see him eat humble pie. It was what she deserved – and more.