He put his hands out, gently, on his wife’s elbows and drew her into his office. He led her to his chair and sat her down as though she were made of the most fragile china and might break.
He knelt before her. “Why did you wash your feet in on of our most sacred fountains?”
She shook her head and opened her mouth to defend herself, then shut it again. “What’s the point? No matter what I say, you won’t believe me.”
Tamir lifted a hand to her cheek. “You must explain,” he encouraged quietly.
“I didn’t know it was special.” She closed her eyes, shaking her head at her naivety. “I should have checked. I should have asked someone.” She blinked her eyes open, and stared directly at him. “I’ve just been so hot. And the water is so cold there. It’s private.” She closed her eyes again. “I truly didn’t think I was doing anything wrong.”
She didn’t see him nod. “What did Kalil say to you?”
Olivia looked at the man, who stood by the door. His hatred might as well have been a cloak that he wore. She looked at him and began to shake. Her fear was obvious.
Tamir leaned forward, and whispered in her ear, “Just tell me if he hurt you.”
Olivia didn’t speak, but betrayingly, her fingers crept to her elbow again. She touched the skin, earning a look from her husband. Wordlessly, Tamir reached out and lifted her sleeve, pushing the fabric gently to expose her flesh.
Five distinct, red finger marks had been left in her arm, and bruising was already beginning to spread from where Kalil had crushed her with his hand.
Tamir, always so in control of his emotions, found them slipping out of his grasp now. He stood, and moved towards the door. As he went to leave the room, he paused, and turned to his wife. “Wait here,” he murmured, trying to soften the anger from his tone.
He wouldn’t have questioned his loyalty to Kalil, but in that moment, Tamir found it the easiest thing in the world to dismiss him from the palace’s employment. He would not tolerate violence towards anyone, least of all his wife. Nor would he accept hostile aggression. There was no excuse Kalil could offer that would soften his stance, and Tamir was not in the mood to listen anyway.
“She is just a British whore!” Kalil spluttered, when it became obvious that Tamir was serious in his desire for Kalil to leave the palace.
Tamir’s hand formed a fist and he longed to crash it down on Kalil’s face. But he would not answer violence with violence.
“She is your Queen, and my wife, and you will end up in prison if you dare speak of her like that.”
“You married her to keep her in your bed. Why pretend there is anything more there?”
“Why I married her is not your concern, Kalil.”
“My duty is to protect you, Tamir. I have been doing that.”
“Bullying my wife is not serving your duty,” Tamir countered angrily.
“She is not even your wife!” Kalil snapped back, his dark eyes unrepentant.
Tamir went very, very still. “What do you mean?”
Kalil’s pointed tongue darted out and licked his thin lips. “I knew you would regret your impetuous decision to marry her, Tami
r. So I did not file the papers. And I did it to protect you from her.”
Tamir’s fury crashed through him like a star going supa nova. “You must leave the palace immediately, Kalil. If you do not, I will not be responsible for my actions. Go now, and speak of this to no one.”
Kalil nodded, his expression calm. “I will wait for you to call me back to your service, Tamir. I know you will realise, in time, that my actions were for your own good.”
“GO!” Tamir roared, unable to maintain even the appearance of an even temperament for a moment longer.
He waited until he could no longer here Kalil’s footsteps and then relaxed his posture.
She was not his.
She never had been.
And she never would be.