He made a growling sound of relief, pleasure, delight, and then he swooped his lips down to kiss her. ‘Yes, inti qamar. Let us go home.’
‘You can’t be serious.’
Amir couldn’t take his eyes off Johara. Through the glass of his bedroom, he watched her sleeping and felt as though nothing and no one could ever hurt him. She was here, in Ishkana, where she belonged. Seven months ago he’d pushed her away, believing the best thing he could do for her was arrange safe passage to Taquul. How wrong he’d been. And how fortunate he was that her heart was so forgiving...
‘We flew back a few hours ago.’ Behind him, the sun was beginning to break into the sky. ‘It’s all agreed.’
‘You cannot marry her. I forbid it.’
‘Your lack of consent will hurt Jo, Malik, but it will do nothing to change our plans.’
Silence met his pronouncement. If the past had taught them anything it was that neither wanted to risk another outbreak of violence. They both knew the cost too well. Malik might be furious, but he would not threaten military action.
‘You must have kidnapped her. Taken her against her will.’
Amir straightened at the very suggestion. ‘I will never, in my life, do anything against your sister’s will. She came here because we are in love, Malik, as you are well aware.’ The gentle rebuke sat between them. It was the reason, after all, that Malik had lied about an impending marriage to Paris.
‘Love,’ Malik spat with disbelief. ‘She is a princess of Taquul. Her place is here.’
‘Her place,’ Amir corrected with a smile that came from deep within his heart, ‘is wherever she wants it to be.’
Inside, Johara caught the statement through the open door, her eyes blinking open. She listened, her breath in a state of suspension as the man she intended to spend the rest of her life with spoke to—she could only presume—her brother.
‘I insist on speaking to her.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Amir agreed. ‘She is still asleep, but I have no doubt she will wish to speak to you about this. The purpose for my call is simple—I wanted to alert you to the state of affairs and to caution you against saying or doing anything to upset her.’
‘Is that a threat?’
‘A threat? No. It’s a promise. If you push her away, you will lose her completely, Malik. She has chosen where she wants to be, and with whom.’ He sighed. ‘I love your sister. I plan to make her very happy by giving her everything she could ever want—and we both know that is for us to be, if not exactly friends, capable of existing harmoniously.’
Silence met this statement.
‘She and I are to marry. She will carry my children, the heirs to Ishkana. They will be your nieces and nephews. Can you think of anyone who will benefit from continued estrangement?’
Inside the bedroom, Johara smiled, her eyes fluttering closed. She was exactly where she wanted to be and, with all her heart, she knew that the decision she’d made had been the right one. The only one she could ever make. Her heart, the skies, fate and future had guided her here—it was where she was meant to be.
EPILOGUE
AMIR HAD BEEN WRONG. He had believed his people, and the people of Taquul, would revolt at the very idea of a union between himself and Johara. He had braced for that, and prepared Johara for the inevitable splashback.
There had been none.
Nothing but euphoric delight and anticipation. Every detail of their union was discussed at length. He could not turn on the television without catching some talk-show host speculating about which tiara she would wear down the aisle, and whether the jewel for her ring would be of Taquul or Ishkana.
Billboards were pasted across the city with a smiling photo of Johara, welcoming her to Ishkana. Despite the pain his people had felt—or perhaps because of it—they welcomed her, knowing that lasting peace was truly at hand. With this marriage, the war became impossible. Their union bonded the countries in a way no peace treaty alone ever could. They were family now. His children would be a mix of them, and of their countries, and he had every intention of their being raised in the light of both countries and cultures.
Separation was not the way forward. Unity was. Just as Johara had said.
In the end, she wore a tiara that had belonged to her mother, and a wedding ring that had been his mother’s. Her dress was made of spider’s silk, lace and beads, and when she walked towards him, he felt as though it were just him and her, and no one else in the world. When she walked towards him, he felt as though he might be about to soar into the heavens.
She smiled at him and he felt a thousand and one things—gladness, love, pleasure, relief, and a small part of him felt sorrow that his parents would never know her. But in a way, their happiness would be a part of this, because through their example he’d finally understood that being fearless was a necessity to love.
A year after their wedding, to the day, they were blessed with the birth of a son. Two years later, twin daughters followed. And for all the years into the future they’d hoped for, peace, happiness and prosperity favoured not only Amir and Johara, but the people of their kingdoms as well.
There was, as it turned out, never a story with less woe than that of Amir and his Jo.