“Of course it’s my birthright. Don’t stand there and act like you disagree with gender equality.”
He dipped his head in silent concession.
“They are old fashioned. Every generation brings them closer in step but it cannot be forced. It is a fine balance. You are…”
“If you’re worried that taking me out there will be like setting a cat amongst the pigeons, don’t be. I understand the line you must be walk. I understand that my role, while in the desert, will be to appear somewhat... submissive.”
He didn’t speak but his eyes showed absolute disbelief.
“I get it. The culture of the tribes is different. I understand.”
“Do you?” His eyes roamed her face and something shifted inside of her, because she would have put money on the fact he was angry about this, angry about the idea of her needing to appear even slightly subjugated, simply because of her gender.
“Addan hated that it would be necessary, but he explained everything to me.”
“What did my brother explain?” He asked, the words thick and unnatural.
“That I would need to walk separate to my husband. That I would only be able to partake in morning coffee and evening yashal with you. That I would be left to speak to the women of the tribe.” Her eyes glowed. “And still I want to go.”
A muscle jerked at the base of his jaw.
“I am your wife,” she said simply. “Don’t deny me a chance to see all of this country, all of its people.”
He crossed the room to her, wrapping his hands around her upper arms and holding her still, so he could look into her eyes. “It’s dangerous out there, completely unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.”
She met his eyes, her lips compressed in a line of determination. “I am not afraid, Malik.”
He stared down at her, a pulse of awareness throbbing between them, and then he shook his head. “Fine. But on one condition.”
“Yes?”
“From this moment on, you do everything I say. Understood?”
She smiled, a smile that showed not even a hint of subservience. “Yes, your highness.”
Of course, plans had to be changed to allow for the fact his wife was accompanying him. Instead of riding out, he arranged for helicopters. It was far more sensible, in any event – the sooner he could get to the Jakari the sooner he could resolve this.
And he wanted the issue dealt with, once and for all.
The helicopter lifted up, over the desert, and beside him, Sophia craned forward, looking over the landscape with undisguised interest. Malik was less interested in the landscape and more interested in his wife.
As a child, she’d been chaotic and loud, running around the palace like a fairy, always laughing. As an adult woman, she was calmer, but captivating in equal measure – and for different reasons.
He closed his eyes for a moment and imagined living in another reality. He imagined Addan had lived, had he not been hell bent on restoring that piece of equipment and making it fly once more. He imagined that this woman was his brother’s wife, and every fibre in his body rejected the idea of any other man possessing her.
His chest tightened to think that the cold war they’d been engaged in would have continued with that marriage, that Malik’s self-imposed exile would have continued, all to avoid seeing her.
That this woman had been chosen to marry into his family had never made sense to him, but for the first time, seeing her determination to come with him to the Jakari people, something seemed to click in place.
She was fearless.
Fearless and brave, in the way of his people. She mightn’t have come from these deserts, its ancient blood didn’t hum in her body, but there was a spirit of strength about her that was familiar to Malik.
And Addan had seen that. He had seen it even when she’d been a little girl and he, Addan, a twelve year old. Or perhaps he’d simply trusted their father.
Malik had not. He’d fought this for as long as he could remember. He’d fought her inclusion into their family, her easy acceptance as part of the palace. He’d railed against her on every level.
And here they were – the only two left, side by side, the country’s future in their hands.