Wrong. That’s how I felt as soon as I woke up. The other half of the bed was empty. Lacie and I had to be careful, since we were now under scrutiny. Scrutiny to keep up a lie for a law that was wrong. As soon as my feet hit the floor, someone knocked on the door.

“Sheikh Rashid?”

“Yes?”

The door opened to show Abiah, who looked even tenser than last night, which I hadn’t thought was possible. Her hair was in a bun that seemed to be pulling her face right up to the crown of her head.

“We’re already late. You have to get ready, provide statements for the press, and greet your guests.” At my unimpressed silence, she stormed out. “I’ll wait outside.”

Despite her insistence, I took my time getting dressed. The lavish gold-and-blue bisht had been picked out by my father, and I wondered what he’d think now, if he knew the truth. That I was getting married to the most amazing woman possible, and that the ceremony was all a lie.

As I walked to the door to deal with Abiah, all I could hope was that this sense of wrongness, this sick twist in my stomach, would subside.

And yet, as the minutes dragged on, the feeling didn’t fade. As Abiah babbled about all there was to do, as we went through the motions, made the statements to the press about how happy I was to marrying my sweet, virgin bride, the sick twist swelled to a throbbing pain, until I could barely speak.

I wasn’t allowed to see Lacie, of course, although it was probably for the best. Seeing her would only make it worse, would only make the walls close in more, the air seem stuffier. One look at her and I’d know: this was completely, undeniably wrong.

Worse than wrong, this was a betrayal to us, to what we could be. I was sacrificing my relationship with her for my relationship to my family and my country. It was a lose-lose situation, and yet, I still felt like I was living out the worse of the two choices.

Abiah did, thankfully, allow me a few minutes to see my father. He was slumped on his bed, looking as if he might not make it to the ceremony at all.

“Father, are you all right?”

Even with his eyes closed, I could see the pain and exhaustion in them.

“Don’t worry about me; you have a wedding to go to. I’ll be all right.”

I sat beside him and took his hand. “Today, all the stress will be over. Today’s the day, Father.”

He coughed, a racking hack. More words of reassurance, more lies, rose and fell in my chest with each breath, but none would come out of my mouth.

“You don’t want to do it, do you?”

His scratchy voice surprised me, but when I glanced over, his face looked much as before—expressionless.

“No, Father, I don’t. But I must. For the family. And the country.”

Another series of coughs, although these sounded almost accusatory.

Once he was done, he shook his head, opened his eyes, and growled, “Don’t be a fool.” As I gaped at him, he continued. “No use ruining your life for some family legacy. That has been the Ahmed Qaranis’ legacy—living a true life, a good life—for the people, but also for themselves. Doing what is right.”

“But Father—”

“If you know that marrying this girl isn’t right, then don’t do it. Simple as that,” he said, looking sternly at me.

I released his hand as he closed his eyes once more, wanting to snap at him. It wasn’t as simple as that. Losing the crown meant losing everything my father had worked for—a good life for us, peace for Zayed-Kharan. It wasn’t simply a matter of following my heart.

Now, it was my father’s hand finding mine, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Your mother and I love you, no matter what you choose. Know that. Do what Aliya would’ve wanted for you. Do what you know is right.”

I ripped my hand free of his grasp.

In a shaking voice, I said, “I’ll see you at the wedding, Father.”

And then, I left, before my mind was weighed down by his words and their implications, an image of Aliya’s rosy face, laughing. Yes, if I let myself think over them for too long, I’d never make up my mind.

The ceremony started with the expected fanfare. This part, my parents had insisted be traditional, with the normal procession—the zaffe—down the street to the city hall. This zaffe was the biggest one I’ve ever seen, and I was in the middle of it, with the throngs of drummers, singers, dancers, and even fire-eaters flanking me, the crowds cheering on either side.

When we reached the towering, mosaic-covered structure where I was to be wed, a flock of white doves was released. And then, at the top of the aisle, I saw her. Lacie.

She looked gorgeous, like an angel that had descended from the heavens. I hardly recognized her, although I recognized the look on her face all too well. Wrong—that’s what it was. She felt it too, knew it, was going through with this for my sake. She walked up the aisle to me, alone. Her parents weren’t here, couldn’t be. This wedding was all for me.

As she walked, she passed a familiar sneering-faced man. Idris. His glare was focused so intently on her that, if looks could kill, she’d have collapsed the first second he laid eyes on her.

Yes, I had to go through with this wedding. I glanced at my father, his wan yet happy face, my mother’s teary-eyed one. My father’s words were of no consequence. What I wanted didn’t matter. I had to do this. When Lacie stopped in front of me, her shy face blushing, the justice of the peace began to speak.

“Today, we are gathered here to celebrate the union of Sheikh Rashid bin Ahmed Qarani and Lacie Wright. This is a symbolic union for our beautiful country, as it will also be the crowning of Sheikh Rashid as our head of state. All of Zayed-Kharan is celebrating with you.”

I caught Lacie’s eye. She looked terrified. I stepped forward and held up my hand.

“Sorry, I’m going to have to halt the proceedings.”

As Lacie looked at me, wide-eyed, as the whole room fell into a hush, I took her hand, closed my eyes, and the words came out.

“I love this woman; that much is true. But the rest—all of this—is not. This law of a virgin bride is not just antiquated and sexist, it is downright wrong. To judge someone’s merit based on an archaic concept sets up any couple for disaster. It left me with less than two weeks to find a suitable mate, and, you know what? Despite that, I did. I found Lacie.

“Lacie Wright, who’s beautiful, funny, charming, goodhearted, and utterly right for me. But not so right that I only need two weeks to develop a relationship with her worthy of marriage. No, to do so, to go through with this, would not be right—for her, or for me. More than that, she’s no longer a virgin—thanks to our love for each other. And, you want to know something else? I don’t care.

“I want to be a worthy leader for my country—it’s all I’ve ever wanted, to honor my country and be a man who deserves the responsibility. But I will not do it at Lacie’s expense. No, I would gladly sacrifice myself for my country, but I will not sacrifice the happiness of the woman I love. I cannot be a good, strong leader if I am an angry, bitter man. And, if I marry this woman when we are not ready, if I marry her when her parents can’t even be present, well, then I will never forgive myself.

“So, citizens, Father, Mother, supreme council—I apologize, but I will not retract my decision. This woman is worth more than that, worth more than your absurd laws and demands.”

Tears were streaming down Lacie’s face, but I wasn’t quite finished yet.

“So, Lacie. My question for you is not if you will have me as husband, but if you want to give this a try, a real try—not a fake marriage to adhere to an outdated law and please an unyielding supreme council. If you want to do this the right way, the real way, and give our relationship a real shot. The chance it deserves. If you want to be my girlfriend.”

Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper, and yet her “yes” was loud enough to reverberate through the building, and the crowd broke into raucous applause.

The only thing to do next was to kiss her, let my lips meet hers, express what they’d just said, in a different way. Her lips gave in to mine easily, and together, we fused into one happiness as the crowd roared and the rightness of the moments surged through my body.

We finally broke apart, smiling. I took her hand, nodded to the council, Idris, and my parents, then strode down the aisle, head held high.

Finally, I felt absolutely sure that I had done something completely and entirely right.