She was Addan’s.
He was prepared to see her, his heart like ice, but when she walked towards the car, Awan on one side and a servant he didn’t recognise on the other, everything inside of him shattered, every certainty he’d felt that he was doing the right thing detonated like a bomb.
They were due at the opening of a children’s hospital, but there was no way he could let go anywhere.
He stepped away from the car.
“Send our apologies,” he said to Awan, putting a hand in the small of Sophia’s back and almost swearing when he felt the ridges of her spine.
“What are you doing?” She demanded, her expression one of hauteur. His chest cracked.
“You are not leaving the house like this.”
“Like what?” She looked down at the robes she wore – a stunning blue with gems around the collar.
“Come inside.” He gently propelled her back into the palace, his heart pounding so hard and fast he could hear his blood rushing. “Please.”
Please. God, please, he prayed mentally, watching her warily, waiting for her. But she shook her head. “We’re expected at the hospital. This is important. I’ve been on the fundraising committee for years. I’m not missing it.”
He ground his teeth together, staring at her, hating himself in that moment for what he’d done to this beautiful creature. Hating himself and life desperately.
“You are too slender,” he said, the words croaking from him.
Her eyes showed defiance when they lifted to his. “I’m fine. And I’m going to this event; I’m a patron, for God’s sake. Are you going to come with me?”
He swore under his breath and turned around, staring at the car, his expression grim. “For thirty minutes,” he said, finally. “And then home.”
She lifted her eyes to his, and there was such desolate loss there, such chasming emptiness that his stomach dropped to his feet. “Home?” Her laugh was brittle. “Where the hell is home?”
He watched his clock. Thirty minutes hadn’t been a joke, nor a number he’d pulled from thin air. He watched his wife speak to the other board members, and the medical chiefs of departments, and while he felt admiration for her abilities, he also felt alarm. Alarm that she’d deteriorated so much in a month. Alarm that skin which had once glowed translucent like crushed pearls was now so thin and fine he could see grey beneath her eyes despite the skilled application of makeup. Her hair was darker, her lips thinner, and her whole body was so slim he had no idea how she was managing to stay upright with the huge baby bump out front.
Twenty nine minutes after arriving, he called an end to it, practically frog marching her back to the limousine.
His worry grew as they drove back to the palace in complete silence. She made no efforts to talk to him, she didn’t attempt a conversation. She simply stared out of her window, and he stared at her, cataloguing the changes and knowing each and every one was his fault.
His responsibility.
Sophia had come to this kingdom as a child. A beautiful, free-spirited child. She was not of this land, of these people, but she had come to exemplify the Abu Fayan spirit. She was the magic of this place. She had been wild and free and beautiful and bold, and bit by bit he had strangled that from her.
He must have made some kind of audible noise of disgust because she jerked her face to his suddenly. Their eyes met and his heart turned over in his chest because when she looked at him, he saw none of the spark in her eyes that was so uniquely Sophia.
He saw nothing, and felt everything.
When the car pulled up at the palace, he stepped out and opened her door before a servant could, reaching for her wordlessly. She stared at him like he’d taken leave of all of his senses, and perhaps he had.
She didn’t move and so, with frustration, he bent down and scooped her up, cradling her against his chest, carrying her through the palace, his face bearing a mask of utter resignation.
He took her to his apartment, to the suite of rooms he’d cajoled her to move into before asking her to vacate once more. His gut churned at the way he’d behaved that day.
“I don’t want to be here,” she said, pushing from his chest as soon as they walked in. He carried her to the sofa and settled her down before standing and staring at her as though she were a puzzle he had to fathom.
“You must stay with me now.”
“No.” She jack-knifed out of the seat, her eyes glaring at his and the spark was back, but it was a spark of angry defiance. “Never again.”
His jaw clenched tight.
“You aren’t well.”