“Isn’t it evident?”
“Not to me.”
“There are many things that happen in our lives that can stir us to a passionate response, but as King, my duty is to my country and my people. They are best served if I act from a reasoned position – not one of passion, not one of emotion. I make decisions as to what serves my country based on calm, rational judgement, not heat and feeling.”
My heart turns over in my chest at his explanation, a sense of disappointment and sadness flooding me suddenly.
“Like our marriage,” I murmur with a small nod.
“Exactly.”
From the outside, it might appear that this was a rational choice for both of us, but it wasn’t. Not for me. I married Zahir out of passion – love for my father and a passionate anger at the wrongs that were done against him.
“Passion can guide you to make good choices, Zahir. Feeling that emotion shouldn’t be something you fight against.”
His eyes flare. “Feeling passion is different to acting on it.”
I grimace. “If I’d thought too much about this marriage, I might have resisted it,” I say quietly. I drop my hand, instantly missing the feeling of his warm abdomen. “Passion is the only reason I’m here.”
He is quiet, waiting for me to continue.
“I have been so angry for so long – angry at what happened to my dad, and the pain it caused him.” A muscle jerks in Zahir’s cheek, his jaw tightened as though grinding his teeth together. “I acted on instinct – a passionate need to right a wrong of the past, to fix something I have always hated. If I’d followed your logic, I might have reasoned that my father has a life in the States now, and that I do too. I might have considered things were ‘good enough’ for us, that it wasn’t worth taking the risk of coming to a foreign country and marrying a stranger.”
“And perhaps this would have been a better choice for you, Amy,” he says in a gruff voice, lifting a hand and cupping my cheek. His eyes run over my face and the heat of his gaze sears me to the soles of my feet. “You cannot right the wrongs of the past – that’s outside your capabilities. Bringing your father to Qabid will not change what happened then.”
To me, that sounds like an admission, words of regret. I swallow at the rush of emotions it unleashes. Can I forgive him if he can admit he was wrong? Zahir will never openly admit that he made a mistake, but there is subtext in his words now, and it’s a subtext that cracks something open within my heart.
“You are looking at things from a position of ‘reason’, whereas I see it through a veil of passion and emotion. Yet here we are – two people who ended up married regardless.” I am drawn to him, aching to touch him, to feel him. I reach for another tattoo, circling it with my finger. “What is this?”
“Kalam,” he says with a lift of one corner of his lips. “My first falcon. My father gave him to me when I was eight years old. I trained him myself.”
My stomach swoops at this admission – a sign of loyalty and affection for a pet.
“He was a magnificent bird of prey, protection when I travelled into the desert on my own, company and security. Incredible wing-span, a true ruler of this desert land.”
“What happened to him?”
Zahir’s eyes bank down, blocking me out, showing me no emotion. “He died.”
“Of old age?”
His head moves, a single jerk to indicate the negative.
“I’m sorry.”
He lifts his shoulders. “He was just a bird.”
I can’t help my expression – I’m sure it must be rich with disbelief. “And yet you’ve had him drawn as a tattoo?”
He laughs, a sound rich with dismissal. “I was only sixteen.” He laces his fingers through mine, drawing my hand to his side. “Don’t read anything into it.”
“Like that you have a heart with feelings?”
I don’t know where the challenge came from but suddenly, I need to make it.
His eyes narrow sceptically. “Like a sentimental attachment to an animal.”
“I don’t believe you.” I continue to contradict him, certain I’m right. “You want to live without passion and yet you’re the most passionate person I’ve ever met. I feel it humming beneath the surface of your veins. You can’t fight your nature, Zahir. You shouldn’t want to.”