It was just as it had been from the ruins.
So much of Taquul was like Ishkana.
‘You must be able to see how right this is. It’s what our parents wanted, it’s what I want, what he wants. I think deep down it’s even what you want.’
‘Well,’ she couldn’t help drawling her response, ‘I’m glad you’ve given what I want some thought, seeing as I’d be the one marrying him.’
‘You used to like Paris,’ Malik said with a shake of his head, coming to sit be
side her. The smell of his tea reached her nostrils.
‘I still like Paris,’ she agreed. ‘I consider him a friend. But I don’t intend to marry him.’
Malik sighed. ‘What’s got into you?’
She turned to face him, her eyes clear. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You’ve been...different...since you got back from Ishkana.’
Got back. Returned. Came ‘home’. All perfectly calm ways to describe the fact she felt as though a rocket had blasted her world into pieces.
‘I felt the same way about this before I left. I have never intended to marry Paris. Not really.’ She sighed. ‘I can see the sense of it. I can tell it’s what you want, and yes, I can see why. But I won’t marry him.’
‘He cares for you.’
I love you. He hadn’t said anything back. Did that mean he didn’t love her? Or that he couldn’t love her?
It didn’t matter. Four weeks had passed. Four weeks. With effort, work and a lot of the reason, sympathy and diplomacy Johara had advocated for, peace was being forged, and it was strengthening with every day that passed. Life was normal again. Except it wasn’t. In the middle of her chest there was an enormous black hole. She went through the motions each day, imitating the woman she’d once been. But while her body had returned to Taquul, her heart and soul had remained behind in Ishkana. She doubted the two would ever reunite.
‘I can’t marry him,’ she said, more strenuously.
‘Why not?’
Why not? The truth was screaming through her. She stood uneasily, jerkily, moving to the window. The maze was around the corner. If she leaned forward, she’d be able to see just a hint of its verdant walls. She closed her eyes, nausea rising inside her.
‘I am different.’ The words were barely a whisper. She heard the rustle of clothing as her brother came to stand behind her. ‘Something happened in Ishkana and it’s changed me. I might have been more malleable once. I might even have agreed to this, to please you, and because yes, I can see that it makes a sort of sense. But not now. I can’t. Please don’t ask me again.’
‘What happened, Jo?’ There was urgency in his question. ‘Did someone hurt you?’ She heard the fear beneath the statement. Why couldn’t they stop worrying about her? As though she were so fragile, and couldn’t look after herself.
‘I was treated as an honoured guest,’ she assured him. ‘No one hurt me.’
And because the words had been pressing down on her like an awful weight for a month now, she said them aloud, needing to speak them to make them real, and to understand them better. ‘I fell in love.’ She angled her face towards her brother’s. ‘I fell in love in Ishkana. The idea of marrying Paris—or anyone—makes my blood run cold. Please don’t ask it of me.’
‘Fell in love?’ he repeated, frowning, as though this was an entirely foreign concept. ‘With whom?’
Was there any sense in lying? She bit down on her lip, searching for what she should say or do.
But Malik swore, shook his head. ‘No. Not him.’
‘Yes.’ She twisted her fingers at her side, seeing her brother’s shock and wishing she hadn’t been the instrument of it, and also not caring, because inside she’d grown numb and cold.
‘Johara, you cannot be serious.’
She bit down on her lip. ‘I love him.’
‘This man is—he is—’
‘What is he?’ she challenged defiantly, anger coursing through her veins. ‘The war is over.’