How could he take the risk of caring when he knew his father would stop at nothing to manipulate and control him?
As it had in her own life, love and closeness had been coercive and overbearing forces in his—chains with which to dominate, rather than to hitch onto toward joy and fulfillment.
It might have been bloodthirsty and merciless of her, but she wished her father-in-law everlasting torment for the cruelty he had bestowed upon his wife and child and people.
Rita shuddered again. The world would not suffer when his reign ended—even if, from what she could glean, these days it was close to a thing in name only.
Jag, as she understood, had taken the bulk of the functions of his government under his lead already, as if for him, too, that day could not come soon enough.
“No inspiring words of forgiveness and hope?” Jag asked, attempting lightness while the lingering harsh rasp of his voice belied his efforts.
Shaking her head, Rita said, “None. If this were a movie, it would be the kind of situation that would warrant grandiose vengeance.”
With a strained laugh, he said, “Is that so?” before side-eyeing and nudging her with a sly smile and alluding to her words from earlier in the evening, “Family is so important, after all.”
He was joking, merely making fun reference to her earlier words, but the reminder was akin to being wrapped up tight in a wet blanket.
Like Jag, she was estranged from her family because the demands of their love had been too much to bear, but after hearing his story, how could she ever share?
She had thought her family’s demands were unfair, but compared to Jag, they’d simply asked for the same kind of commitment from her that they had given.
They had made big sacrifices for the happiness of the whole. Demanding the same of her was a far cry from the deception and manipulation Jag’s father had employed.
What would he think if he knew that she had walked away from her family in favor of chasing dreams?
Knowing that he had been so cruelly ripped from his mother, would he think her spoiled and wasteful for throwing away something as good and precious and priceless as she had?
Her parents might have been unrelenting in their desire to mold her, and they may have not fully understood the beat of her heart, but they had always loved her.
That fact of that stood out in sharp contrast to Jag’s experience.
From what she knew now, it seemed like the only one who had ever loved Jag was his mother, and unlike Rita’s family, with whom reconciliation might still someday be possible, she was long gone.
“Rita.” A serious note had come into Jag’s voice, one at odds enough with the tone of the moment that it shook her out of her wallowing and had her glancing at him with a frown, her eyebrows drawn together.
“What is it?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”
“In a moment, I’m going to pull the car over. I want you to take off your overcoat and wrap it around your head, then I want you to curl up in the footwell. Do you understand?” His voice was forcibly calm, steady and even, and all the more unsettling for it.
“What’s wrong? What’s going on?” she asked, struggling to shrug out of her jacket in the narrow confines of the car as she spoke.
Still staring straight ahead, he said, “We are directly in the path of an oncoming sandstorm.”
He spoke as if he delivered the most mundane news...even as he carefully untucked the folds of his ghutra and removed his agal.
Following his lead, she wrapped the sheer jacket around her head, doubtful the flimsy thing would provide much coverage through one of nature’s disasters but unwilling to freak out.
Jag was remaining calm. She could remain calm.
“Curl up as tightly as you can.” His muffled voice came through his own layers of wrapping, and she did as he said.
And moments later, they were swallowed by a wall of sand.
The sound was incredible and horrible. A crescendo of scratching and scraping wind, punctuated here and there by the screeching of metal being bent against its will.
Sand pummeled them, somehow able to make its way inside the car and beneath her wrapped jacket, grains of it forcefully aggressive in their push to get into her mouth and ears and tightly shut eyes.
The roar continued, seemingly endless.