Her inspection is brief, a quick check up before she starts asking about my symptoms.
“Honestly, I don’t have any symptoms. I just vomited.”
She eyes me over the rim of her glasses. “How many times?”
“Once.”
“Had you eaten anything?”
I shake my head. “I hadn’t really felt hungry. I had some toast for breakfast, I think. Yes, some toast and coffee.”
“Mmm. Do you usually eat such a small breakfast?”
I tilt my head to the side. “It depends.” Heat floods my cheeks as I remember the ravenous hunger I’d woken up with in Thakirt, after making love to Zahir.
“Okay.” Her smile is gentle. “Is there any chance you’re pregnant?”
The words burst into my brain with a kaleidoscope of possibility. “I – I don’t think so.” I frown. “I mean, a tiny possibility, but it’s not likely.”
“You were only married two weeks ago. It’s too early to check, unless – I’m making assumptions there.” Her expression was apologetic, and I realise she’s uncomfortable having this conversation with the Emira, despite the fact she’s a doctor. “The tests are most reliable two weeks from conception. Would you like to take one?”
I shake my head, my mouth dry. “No.” My smile is tight. “It would be too early.”
“Okay.” She lifts her shoulders. “But if you change your mind, let me know. And you’re feeling better?”
“Much,” I lie, because now my head is swimming for a whole new reason. I should be horrified but…I’m not. Once the doctor’s left, I sit down on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor until I realise a smile has crossed my face.
Pregnant.
With Zahir’s baby.
What’s wrong with me that the idea doesn’t leave me cold?
I press a palm to my stomach, flat and as far as I can tell, empty, wondering if there’s any chance I conceived, somehow? Surely the likelihood is almost non-existent, and yet…
My heart is racing and I push up from the bed, the very idea making my feet light as I cross the apartment towards the large glass doors that lead to his enormous balcony. His view is of a magnificent golf course, a striking green in the midst of this desert land, the waterways shimmering in contrast to the heat of the day. I press my arms out, watching as the heat makes them glow golden, my eyes drinking in the beauty of this view while my heart focusses on another body of water, far out in the desert, the oasis we went to on our honeymoon.
Honeymoon. Such a misnomer for what we’d shared, and yet perhaps that’s not quite fair. The honeymoon wasn’t where we’d been intimate for the first time, at least not physically. But it was the first time I saw beneath my image of this man. It was the first time I saw him as a multi-faceted person, capable of good and bad, righteous and moralistic, strong and driven by a deep love for his country to act in its best interests. He’d married me for that reason, and he was sure he’d exiled dad for those reasons too.
My heart is heavy and light all at once. I will never be able to forgive Zahir for what he did to dad, and yet if I can push those thoughts from my mind completely, everything starts to make sense. My desire for him, my need for him, my fascination with him, the way my heart squeezes when he’s nearby, or even when he’s not.
I press a hand to my stomach once more, a small smile lifting my lips as I contemplate the existence of a child – our child. He’d floated the possibility even before we were married. I know it’s what he wants, I’m just surprised to realise it’s what I want too.
Zahir
Whenever I have come across adversity in my life, I have sought the space and sanity offered by the desert. I have saddled my own steed and ridden out hard, low to the horse’s mane, eyes focussed on the shimmering heat far from the palace and my people, seeking the silence of the stars and sand.
I don’t go to the dese
rt now. It would be wrong to leave Amy. Wrong to run away for my own solace. I don’t deserve it.
Did I really think her capable of betraying me?
She’s a Hassan. It’s been my fear since she came here, lurking in the back of my mind a lot at first, but less so as our marriage developed. It didn’t take me long to realise she wasn’t capable of the same treachery as her father, and yet I have still carried a kernel, deep in my chest, of suspicion. Suspicion? Fear? Whatever the name for this feeling, it’s intensified the longer she’s been here, the more I’ve got to know her, the more I’ve…seen her, understood her. All of her. Her goodness and kindness, her innocence; she’s become something in my mind that I’ve feared would be destroyed if it was proven that she’s like her father after all. More than anything, I need to believe in goodness. Not just hers, but that such goodness exists.
With a grimace, I look out at the desert, dawn light filtering across it. Consciousness of the time has me consulting my wristwatch next. The sky is a silvery blue, and in the distance the whip-cry of the kasani birds thunders through my soul. I am of this land. I was born to rule it. Nothing can come between me and that sacred duty, nothing matters but this. And yet, as I dip my head forward, my eyes close and I see her – Amy – and I know that’s not true. Other things beside my role as ruler of Qabid matter, and if I had any doubts what those things might be, seeing my wife’s face this afternoon after I accused her of betrayal leaves me in little doubt. Her happiness matters to me. I have a duty to protect her, to care for her, to protect her.
Whatever happens next – and I’d be a fool not to realise I could be on the precipice of disaster – Amy is not to blame. She has acted out of love for her father, but that doesn’t mean she feels his hatred for me.