“You’ll come and see the baby,” he said, hoping his friend would acquiesce.
“Yes.” The word was clipped. “I’ll come soon.”
“Good. Apollo? It’s time for you and your sister to remember that you’re family.”
Silence met the pronouncement and Raffa gripped the phone tight, waiting for his friend to speak. Heaven knew, there weren’t many people on earth who ever gave Apollo orders, but Raffa counted himself as one of them.
“How is she?”
The question was simple, and yet it promised a world. Raffa smiled. “She is an angel.”
Apollo laughed. “I’m glad to hear you say it. I’ll come over as soon as I can get away. Give her … give Chloe my love.”
When the call was disconnected, Raffa returned to the hospital room to see his wife in the process of being attended to by her aids. He was torn between feeling pleased that she had help when she needed it, and resentment at having this private moment invaded.
It wouldn’t be long before the world would burst in on them, but for a while longer, he wanted it to be just the three of them.
He dismissed the staff and for the next several hours, he was simply a father and husband. He held his baby, watched his wife sleep, and then sang to their precious son, softly, in his own tongue, the nursery rhymes he’d learned as a child.
Finally, as the day dragged downwards and night took its place, Chloe was dressed in an elegant tunic style dress and some loose pants. Raffa helped her to standing, his expression thunderous when she winced a little.
“We don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, we do. I’ve read up on the traditions, and this is one of them.”
“A stupid tradition,” he glowered, wanting nothing more than to protect his wife, to ensure her comfort.
“Just think, the sooner we do this, the sooner we shall be home – just you, me and little Reginald here.”
“Reginald?” He burst out laughing, and it was as if the sun was shining from behind the evening sky. Chloe blinked, her heart bursting.
“Okay, maybe not Reginald.”
“Definitely not.” He nodded towards the guards at the doors. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, your highness. So long as you’re beside me, I’m ready for anything.”
Fierce, all-consuming pride filled him like a balloon, puffing out his chest. His beautiful, brave wife, the mother of his child, the savior of the kingdom. What could he ever do to deserve her?
The doors to the balcony were pushed open and the noise from the crowd below rose up towards them like thunder from the ground. Chloe held their baby as though she’d been doing so all her life, and in unison, the King and Queen of Ras el Kida stepped onto the terrace.
The crowd cheered as one, an enormous noise that bounced around them. Chloe held their baby closer, dropping her gaze to the little one, her whole soul absorbing that magical moment.
“They already love him,” she said in awe, as the crowd began to chant:
“Amyr! Amyr! Amyr!” Prince, prince, prince!
“He will be their king,” Raffa said softly. “And they know that.”
“One day,” Chloe nodded gently. “But for now, he’s just a boy. Just a baby.” Her eyes met her husband’s. “He’s our baby.”
“And Amit’s,” he said drily. “His brother is already organizing all the activities they will do together.”
She smiled, her heart as full of love for Amit as it ever would be for her own child.
“Then they will both be very happy,” she murmured, her smile almost breaking her cheeks.
“Well, my Sheikha, shall we take him home?”