His hand drops from my ear to my shoulder. I can’t look away.
“My lineage can be traced to that first Sheikh. It’s believed that those qualities are carried through my blood, each distilled into a ruling Sheikh’s body so that he will continue to honour those sacrifices, living only to protect his people.”
His words weave magic through my heart. Still, I cling to something like anger, even when it feels forged. “My father would say my lineage boasts the same heritage.”
“Your father is wrong.”
My lips part in surprise. He lifts a finger, pressing it to my mouth.
“Two hundred years ago, a powerful man who’d made his fortune in trade and through his friendship with the Sheikh, claimed he was the long-lost son of the Sheikh’s father. He had papers to show of an affair, claiming his mother was the be’darzi.”
I repeat the foreign sounding word – one with which I’m not familiar.
“The best translation is mistress.”
“Ah.”
“Harems were still very much in use then.”
Heat spreads through my cheeks. His finger at my lips drops lower, pressing to the flesh between my clavicular.
“The woman was indeed the Sheikh’s be’darzi, but whether or not she’d born the Sheikh a son could not be proved.”
“Nor disproved.”
He nods. “That was then. Now we have DNA testing. Your father’s
was done when he was a teenager. He carries none of the same links as my family. None. There is no way he is connected to the ruling line.”
I want to reject that, and yet there’s something about Zahir that I – strangely – trust. I believe he is an honest man, and that lying to me would be beneath his dignity.
“Regardless of this, the family continued to be one of the most powerful in Qabid. Wealthy and influential, and the cult around them grew. My father, or his father before him, should have acted sooner, but each generation tried to reason first, and then to ignore.”
“You didn’t.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
His lips tighten; his smile is dismissive. “There were reasons, and I have not doubted, even once, that I acted in my country’s best interests.”
His powerful certainty rushes through me and I shiver again, but this time, it’s easy to understand the reason for the response. I have become used to my father’s version of events, and I’ve never doubted them. I still don’t, and yet hearing Zahir speak, something of his feelings seep through me, so I’m torn for the first time in my life. Again, I feel that whip of betrayal, as though I’m letting down my father.
“It’s unfortunate that your actions wounded my dad permanently.” I’m pleased that the words emerge clipped with disapproval, but less so when his eyes show surprise and his expression tightens over, resuming a look of cold distance.
I feel as though I’ve lost something very special. My heart swoops and squeezes.
“It could not be avoided. You should go back to bed.”
4
Amy
ANGER BURSTS THROUGH ME. “Is that the way our marriage is going to work, Zahir?” The words are soft with accusation. “If I say something you don’t like, will you simply banish me for a time? Or if I really offend you, might you exile me too?”
I’ve gone too far. Something flashes in his eyes and I feel tension emanating from every bone in his body. “Why do you seek to goad me?”
I blink, caught off guard by his question. “I don’t.”