KARIM HEARD THE words but they didn’t make sense. They weren’t bad, just astonishing. “How?”
She rolled her eyes. “Do not tell me to have ‘the talk’ with you. Not the way we’ve been carrying on.”
He couldn’t help smirking at that, but then frowned in confusion. “I said you could use birth control. You said you wanted to.”
“Yes, well.” She wrinkled her nose and gave her hair a self-conscious flip. “I was annoyed with you the day I came in here to discuss that. The doctor was very patronizing, making it sound like I had to take something. As if it was your decision that I shouldn’t conceive. You’ll recall that we weren’t even having sex at the time...” She looked at her manicure, embarrassed by her pique that day, but also blushing at how uninhibited she’d been with him.
“I remember.” His voice held a warm, delicious undertone, one that made her toes curl. “So you didn’t go on anything?”
“I had a small tantrum about it at the doctor’s, then came here. I kept thinking I should go back and get it sorted, but I don’t care for him, so I never did.”
“He’s been my doctor all my life. He’s very thorough.”
“And I’m sure you would enjoy discussing your personal life with my female doctor back in Khalia, who is also very thorough,” she said pertly.
“Point taken. See if she wants to relocate.”
“I’ve had preliminary discussions about the women’s health center and met some excellent female doctors here in Nabata. I only have to ask my assistant to book me an appointment, but—you’re going to think me the biggest idiot alive, Karim. You’re going to say I’m the one who needed ‘the talk.’”
“Why?” He frowned.
“I honestly didn’t think it would happen so fast,” she admitted with a groan. “I’ve been ignoring the signs because I feel quite stupid for thinking I could have sex and get around to starting birth control when I felt like making a visit to a new doctor a priority. I’m a grown woman. I know better.”
He laughed. It was a brief chuckle that was more of a pair of staccato exhales, but it made her insides blossom in sweetly smug triumph for squeezing that carefree noise out of him.
His amusement lingered in his expression as he shook his head in wry disbelief at her. In fact, he was so handsome in that moment, she tipped a little further into love with him.
A little further? Oh, dear. Yes. She was quite in love with him, she realized with a stutter of her heart. She looked to the floor, letting her hair fall forward to curtain her face and hide that she was coming to terms with a lot lately. How had she been so foolish as to do that though? The very thing she feared most—yearning for someone she loved to love her back—was now the definition of her marriage.
With that burning ache for a return of her affections pressing outward in the base of her throat, she asked, “Are you angry?”
“Of course not! I’m astounded, but thrilled. You told me you didn’t desire my children.”
“I was angry.” She wrinkled her nose in apology. “It turns out, I do want your baby, Karim. Very much.” So much, the magnitude of it pushed bright tears into her eyes.
His expression of utter bemusement turned tender as he cupped her face. His gaze was quite solemn.
“I’ve been thinking lately that we ought to be trying to conceive, waiting for the right time to bring it up. I’m very happy with this news, Galila. I only wish you had felt you could trust me with it sooner. Is this why you’ve been so distracted? You thought I wouldn’t approve?”
She shrugged, feeling evasive as she buried her face in his shoulder, but enormous feelings were overtaking her. Love, a kind she had never before experienced, had a breadth and depth that terrified even as it exhilarated her. Anticipation of their growing family swelled excitedly in her while profound despair countered her buoyancy. He had said he would never love her. Overshadowing all of that was the secret of his father’s possible affair with her mother, the weight of it heavy enough to crush her flat.
He closed his arms around her, though, and kissed her with such incredible sweetness, her world righted itself for a few precious seconds.
“I’m glad you’re pleased,” she said against his mouth.
“That’s two good memories you’ve given me in this room to replace my bad one.”
She was so startled by that statement she drew back and studied him.
He clearly regretted his remark at once. She watched his expression close up. His jaw hardened and his lips sealed themselves into a tight line.
Ah, this man of hers. He was capable of opening up, but only in very brief and narrow peeks. She traced the hollow of his rigid spine through his shirt, saying quietly, “I wondered.”
He grimaced and his gaze struck the curtains that hid the balcony beyond.
“Do you have many memories of him? Six is so young.”
“Too young for a memory like that,” he said flatly, almost as if he’d seen his father’s body, but surely not. Who would allow such a thing?
She started to ask, but he kissed each of her eyes closed. “Shall we make another pleasant memory in here?” His mouth sought hers.
She let him erase the troubling thoughts lingering in her psyche, but it was temporary. She hadn’t been completely honest with him and couldn’t be.
Not until she had found the lion’s mate.
* * *
Galila belatedly realized how tasteless it was to have her mother’s things shipped to her in Zyria. She wound up requesting they be left in a storage room in the lower palace, rather than in the royal chambers.
Then she had to wait until she had a free afternoon, which didn’t happen until she had had her doctor’s appointment and her pregnancy confirmed.
That had prompted a flurry of additional appointments with key staff who would keep the news confidential but begin preparations for the upcoming heir. She and Karim even squeezed in a day trip to inform his mother, who was beside herself at the news.
Finally, five days later, Galila was able to go with her assistant down to the roomful of boxes and begin sifting through them. They were labeled but very generally—Books, Art and Heirlooms—all words that could indicate the box held the bookend she sought.
Her assistant was beginning to nag her about being on her feet too long when she squeezed something hard and vaguely animal-shaped through a careful wrapping of linen. She asked her helpers to leave her alone for a few moments.
Stomach tight and curdling, she lifted out the heavy piece. Her hands shook as she unwound the linen.
It was the lioness, exactly as she had dreamed it.
Not risking her foot this time, she kept it on the table and tilted it enough to see the same artist’s signature, the same date and the inscription Where Is He?
She drew a shaken breath. What should she do now?
* * *
Galila was still not herself. Was it the baby? Karim wondered.
She had had the pregnancy confirmed and the obvious signs were there, now that he made a point to notice them. She hadn’t had a cycle and her breasts were tender. A brief glance online told him moodiness and forgetfulness weren’t uncommon.
If he didn’t know better, however, he would think she was drunk, she was so absentminded, leaving the making of conversation with their guests to him. He could tell the older couple was surprised by her wan smiles and quiet introspection. They had met her before and knew she was typically animated and engaging.
Finally, the wife of the minister said something about Galila suffering the pressure of producing an heir. Galila snapped out of her daze to blush and Karim was certain they immediately put her distraction down to pregnancy. They left with smug smiles, convinced they held a state secret.
“Our news will be rumored on every station tomorrow,” he said as he followed her into her rooms.
She gave him a startled look. “What news?”
He stared at her. “What is going on with you?”
Her entire being seemed to deflate. “I have to talk to you about something and I don’t know how.”
The anguish in her expression made his heart lurch. “Is it the baby?”
How could he be instantly devastated when he’d barely begun to absorb this new reality?
“No. I’m perfectly fine. Not even iron deficient or suffering much morning sickness. The baby and I are completely healthy. No, this is something else entirely.” She touched her forehead. “Come. I have to show you something.”
They dismissed the staff and she took him into her bedroom where she knelt to open a lower drawer. She lifted out a wrapped object that was obviously heavy.
He bent to take it from her and saw the anxiety that leaped into her expression as he picked it up, as if she wanted to snatch it back.
“What is it?” Its density and bulk felt vaguely familiar.
She waved at the bed and he set it there to let her unwrap it. She did, slowly. With dread, even. He heard her swallow as she revealed glimpses of ebony and gold.
It was a bookend, one he recognized as similar to the one that had so engrossed her in his office. The two polished black slabs set at an angle were identical to his, but the lioness cast in gold on this one was in a different position, peering over the top of the wall, rather than around the side.
She had distracted him with pregnancy news, but that had been subterfuge. This had been her reason for coming to his office last week. He didn’t care to be lied to, but that wasn’t what made his scalp prickle so hard it felt as though it was coming off.
“An early birthday present?” He wasn’t a flippant man. The remark came out abraded by the gravel in his throat. The pit of his gut was turning sour. “Where did it come from?”
He already knew, even before she looked up at him with misery and regret pulling at her features. Her knuckles were white and sharp as teeth where she clutched the linen in her fist.
He closed his eyes. Now came the fury.
“Who else have you told?”
* * *
Galila frowned in confusion. “What do you mean, who have I told? Karim, do you understand what I’m telling you?”
“Yes,” he clipped out.
She had expected more disbelief and shock, not an immediate leap to damage control. She had agonized all day, since pulling this from the box, about whether to tell him. She had then braced herself for having to convince him, once he realized what she suspected. This was, after all, circumstantial evidence. Strong but not definitive. Of course, he would have doubts. She still wasn’t ready to believe it.
How could he get there so fast without working through all the reasons that this proved nothing?
“Maybe you should sit down,” she said. “Because I don’t think you realize what this might mean.”
“It matches the one that belonged to my father. I know what it means, Galila. I didn’t think there was proof of their affair. That there was a way for it to be pieced together. What did you tell them in Khalia about this?” His voice was scythe-sharp, cutting off her reach for other explanations and leaving her weak excuses on the ground. He was so tall and intimidating in that moment, she stumbled back a step.
She kept going, backing away until her knees found the chair where she threw her robe when she climbed into bed. She plopped into it.
“Am I to understand you knew?” She was like a fish gasping for air, jaw working, eyes goggling.
“Of course I knew! Why do you think I married you?”
She was glad she was sitting down. His words bowled her over. She felt each of the buttons in the upholstery digging into her back.
“That’s why you came on to me at Zufar’s wedding? Why you coerced him into agreeing to our marriage? To hide this secret?” She thought being a political pawn had been bad. She wasn’t even that expedient! Their marriage was a gag order, nothing more.
“Do you understand the ramifications if this gets out?” he went on. “It could start a war!”
She had never seen him this aggressive, shoulders bunched, face so hard there was nothing of the tender lover she had slept beside. He was not a man at all. He was a warrior defending his kingdom.
“My parents’ marriage was a peace treaty with tribesmen who backed her father,” he added in a clipped tone. “They support me, but grudgingly. If they found out my father cheated on her? That he had a child with another woman? Who knows what sort of retaliation they would take against me. Or Adir.”
He paced away and his hand cut through the air.
“Who even knows what kind of man Adir is? He’s already shown himself willing to take revenge against your brother for your mother’s actions. What would he do to me and Zyria? Then there is your brother Zufar.”
He spun to confront her.
“Zyria and Khalia have been in a cold war for years. Your mother’s doing, I am sure, since my uncle’s overtures after my father’s death were always shut down. I knew why the relationship between our countries went stale.” He tapped the center of his chest. “I never tried to reach out when I took the throne, knowing there was no point. But after your mother passed, I was suddenly invited to your brother’s wedding. We are finally in a position to mend fences between our countries and you want to tell him this?”
“No!” she cried. “I haven’t told Zufar or anyone. I’ve been agonizing about telling you.” She had been trying to protect him, didn’t he see that?
“How you even—” He ran his hand down his face and glared at the bookend.
“How did you know?” she asked.
“My father told me,” he spat with great bitterness. “The night he died. Your mother cut off their affair and he got himself blind drunk. If only he had blacked out, but no. He sat there and told me in great detail how deeply he was suffering a broken heart. Said he loved my mother, but not the way he loved Namani. His feelings for her were beyond what he thought possible.”
His tortured memory of that night threw harsh shadows into his face.
“He’d thought she felt the same, but she broke it off. He couldn’t go on without her. Refused to.”
Galila tried to speak and realized her hand was over her mouth. She lowered it. “You were six years old. What was he thinking, putting all of that on you?”
“He wasn’t thinking. He was out of his mind with agony.”
Karim’s own agony was written in deep lines of anguished grief, painful memory and a lifetime of confusion and regret.
“It was years before I understood it properly, but he wanted me to know why he was leaving it all in my hands. He couldn’t leave a note. My mother would have seen it.”
“Are you saying—Karim,” she breathed, gripping the arms of her chair and leaning forward. “His death was deliberate.” Please, no.
He flashed one tortured flare of his gaze her direction, then showed her his grim profile. “My mother can never know. I’ve always let her believe he stumbled.”
“You saw that?” The words tore a strip from the back of her heart to the back of her throat, leaving a streak of burning anguish on his behalf. “That’s horrible! He never should have—”
Her entire composure was crumpling in empathy for him. She rose anyway, but he stiffened as she approached, telling her he didn’t want her comfort. It was an excruciating rejection.
“Karim...” She held out a hand. “I had to tell you, but I would never, ever tell anyone any of this. Certainly not your mother.”
He jerked his chin in a nod of acknowledgment, but when she came closer, he again stiffened and held up a hand this time, warding her off.
His harshly voiced declaration came back to her. Why do you think I married you? Surely, they had built something beyond that, though? She was carrying his child.
“I’m going to put that in my personal safe,” he said. “I don’t want anyone else to see it and come to the same conclusions you have.”
“Of course.” She moved to take up the linen, but he took it from her and wrapped it himself, disappearing to his own side.
She stood there waiting for his return. And waited and waited.
He didn’t come back.
* * *
Galila entered the breakfast room to find a handful of aides doing exactly what her husband wanted them to do—they were creating a buffer between him and his wife.
She had spent a restless night missing his heat beside her in the bed, trying to take in the fact Karim had known all along that his father had had an affair with her mother. That he had lied to her about his reasons for marrying her and hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her the truth. Not until she figured it out for herself.
Now she had, he was turning his back on her again. Why? Shouldn’t this shared secret draw them closer?
As she sank into her chair, he rose, almost as if they were on different ends of a child’s seesaw.
“I have a busy morning,” he said, looking to the door rather than at her. “If you have questions about our schedule with the duke and duchess, we should cover that now, before we greet them at the airport.”
Why do you think I married you?
They had grown close despite his initial motives, though. Hadn’t they? He had seemed happy about her pregnancy. Until last night, they had made love unreservedly. That meant she was a source of pleasure for him, didn’t it? Surely, he felt something toward her? He wasn’t going to reject her out of hand, now that she had uncovered the truth about his father’s infidelity. Was he?
He didn’t give her time to ask any of her questions, rushing out to start his day. They were both tied up for the next few days as they hosted several dignitaries around an international competition for child athletes recovering from land mines and other war-related injuries.
Galila did what she had done for years. She ensured her appearance was scrupulously balanced between flawless elegance and warm benevolence. The cameras adored her. All of Zyria praised Karim for his choice in bride. They dubbed her the Queen of Compassion.
She was miserable, taking no pleasure in the adulation. Thankfully, the car windows were tinted and the madly waving crowd couldn’t see that she wore such a long face.
Karim finished his call beside her, one he hadn’t needed to make. It was yet another brick in the wall he was building against her.
Before he could cement another into place, she asked, “Are you so angry with me for figuring it out that you can’t even speak to me about it?”
He paused in placing another call. “There’s nothing left to say.”
“Is there nothing left of our marriage, either? Because you’re avoiding me. You’re—” He was avoiding their bed.
He sighed. It was the sigh that cut through her like a blade. Don’t be needy, it said.
“Why aren’t you sleeping with me?” She swung her face toward him, refusing to guess at his reasons. “Is it because I’m pregnant? Because you don’t trust me? Because you’re angry? What did I do to make you turn your back on me, Karim?”
“Nothing,” he said from behind clenched teeth. “I was simply reminded by our...discussion the other night that...” He polished the screen of his phone on his thigh. “This passion between us is dangerous,” he stated more firmly.
She studied his craggy profile. He was staring straight ahead at the closed privacy window. There might as well be one between them, holding her apart from his thoughts and feelings. From his heart.
“Is that all it is?” She felt as though she inched onto thin ice. “Because I had begun to hope it was more than merely passion.”
His jaw pulsed. “I told you not to expect that.”
Don’t be needy.
Swallowing, she looked to the palm trees that lined the boulevard as they approached the palace. The archway and fountain, the flower garden and flags, the columns and carpeted steps that formed the impressive entrance of the Zyrian palace.
He offered her a home as beautiful as the one she’d grown up in, and as equally empty of love.
“Why?” Her voice broke. “I don’t understand why I should never expect to feel loved, Karim. What is wrong with me that I must lower my expectations and stop believing I deserve that?”
“It’s not you.” The car stopped and he said, “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”
“You don’t want to talk about it ever. Be honest about that much, please.” She slid out of the car as the door was opened for her.
Karim threw himself from the far side and flashed her a look across the roof of the car, one that accused her of pushing him to the very limits of his control.
“You want me to be honest? Come, then.” He snapped his fingers at her as he started down the walkway alongside the palace.
She knew eyes followed them, but they were left to walk alone through the garden and around the corner of the public wing to the side of the palace that faced the sea. Here the grounds were a narrow band of beach, a triangle of garden and a courtyard—
Oh. She realized where they were when he stopped in the middle of a ruthlessly straight path and looked upward.
“Karim,” she breathed. The sun beat down on them so hot it dried the air in her lungs. Her shoulders stung through the silk of her dress and her scalp tingled as though burning along the part in her hair.
“He was so in love—” his inflection made the emotion sound like a case of leprosy “—he could not live without her. He preferred to plunge to his death, in front of his son, than face another day without her. Is that what you want me to feel for you, Galila? Unable to live without you?”
The reflection off the building was so hot it burned her face, even though the sun was behind her.
“They weren’t able to be together.” And she knew her mother. There was every chance she didn’t love Jamil in the same way, not that she would dare say so. “Our situation is different. I—I’m falling in love with you.”
His body jolted as though struck. “Do not,” he said grittily. “We have the foundation for something that can work. If we hold ourselves at arm’s length.”
“No, we don’t!” She grabbed his sleeve and shook his arm, as if she could shake some sense into him. “We almost did and now you’re pushing me away again. Karim, are you really saying you will never love me? That you would rather break my heart by refusing to? By your logic, that means I should go drown myself right now.” She thumbed toward the nearby waves washing the shore.
His gaze flashed from her to the water. He flinched, then his expression hardened. “I’m putting a stop to your feelings before they get any worse.”
Worse? He really didn’t understand love at all. Which was, perhaps, the real problem.
“You aren’t just refusing to love me, you can’t. Can you?” He didn’t know how.
“Cannot and will not. I’m protecting both of us. All of Zyria.”
He had told her this before, but some tiny thing inside her—smaller even than the child she carried—had hoped. Now she knew how foolish that hope had been. Now she believed him when he said he would never love her.
Her next breath was deep. It was the kind one took to absorb the sting of a deep cut or the reverberation from a cracked head. The kind that felt like a knife going into her throat and staying there.
“Very well, then.”