Chapter 42
I hate it.
It’s the thought that repeats in my mind over and over as I look at the wedding dress that was delivered this morning. In preparation for my wedding tomorrow, so long as Azar arrives tonight as he should. I can admit that it really is beautiful, it’s dark yellow color looked vibrant against my skin when I tried it on. It’s long-sleeved, has a V-neck, and comes to the floor. Yes, it’s beautiful and exactly what I will not be wearing. A matching head wrap is noticeably missing because, as my father told Maryam, Azar demanded that I not wear one for our ceremony. Luckily for me, I suspected this would be the case when I designed the gown I wanted Najla to make.
The gown is ready, hidden in Maryam’s office until it’s time for me to get dressed. When I saw it yesterday, I grinned in pure satisfaction at Najla taking my drawing and bringing it to life so brilliantly. The palace is chaotic, everyone running here and there getting things prepared for not only a king to arrive today, but a wedding tomorrow, and the celebration that will take place at night and the next day. Before I am to depart with Azar to Sameer.
I stand from the end of my bed and close the armoire, locking the not to be worn dress inside before leaving my room for the dining hall. Stepping into the hallway, I almost trip over my feet at the light coming in through what I thought were permanently closed windows. The too long banished sunlight brings with it the smell of crisp air, casting away the rottenness that seems to always fill these hallways. When I arrive to the hall for lunch, I see it’s beginning to be decorated for King Azar eating here tonight, scarlet runners placed on the tables and strips of forest green fabric hung from the back of the chairs. I grit my teeth at seeing them and continue to the table where my father is already seated. I sit beside him, and he ends the conversation with one of the nobles to look, sneer, at me. Still, even when he thinks I’m doing his bidding, he cannot even look at me with anything other than disdain.
“It seems you’ve somehow managed to make it till today without making things more difficult than necessary,” he says.
“Why would I? What’s done is done, right? I have agreed to marry Azar, and my father has planned to have me abandon Nur to leave with him.”
The sting from hearing Hud tell me my father plans for me to leave Nur right away hasn’t gone away. Not because my father is all but throwing me out of the only place I have called home, but because this is just that, my home. Where my people are. I should not have to be separated from them.
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Sameer will do you good. No doubt that warrior spirit that Maryam secretly harbored in you will do just fine in a place like King Azar’s kingdom.” He smirks.
“How can the people here ever respect me, know me, when I become queen if I am forced to leave Nur? They will see me as a stranger on the throne.”
“Oh, if I could find a way to live forever just to deny you the crown.”
I turn my head to glare at him. “I have never done anything to you except not be Haman.”
“Exactly. You are not him. He knew what it meant to rule this kingdom. That Nur needs an iron fist to prosper. Not mercy and compassion. He knew that a child should be obedient to their parent, especially when that parent is their king.”
“Was is it his obedience that made him murder the woman pregnant with his child?” I hiss.
He raises his hand, and I raise my chin higher, daring him to strike. He knows what I can do now, and I will not shrink under his blows any longer. If he hits me, I will strike back. What do I have to lose now? Hamza is safe. Maryam is safe. He’s already marrying me to a monster and sending me away. Defending myself against him at last would be worth the first hit.
His fist shakes with anger for a few seconds before he lowers his hand to the table. He sneers at me, his clenched teeth bared before he reaches for his cup and takes a gulp.
“You are King Azar’s problem now,” he declares, his condescending grin back in place. “And I am positive he will have no quarrels about showing you how he solves problems.”
My lip curls up before I turn my head to look at where I hear boots rushing over to us. A guard jogs until he stops before the table.
“Your Majesty, the royal procession from Sameer was just spotted exiting the forest. They should be here within hours,” he tells my father.
My father waves him off, dismissing him without a word and turns his sinister eyes back to me.
“Your future husband has arrived.” He stands. “And my troubles are over.”
He walks down the aisle of tables, his guards falling in line behind him. I swallow the rising anxiety, pushing away the plate of food I no longer have an appetite for. A shadow comes over me, and I look up into Maryam’s eyes. Worry and strength swirl in them.
“Are you ready?” she asks.
“No. But I don’t have much choice in what I’m ready for now. My father has made sure of that.”
“Everything is prepared,” she whispers. “Do you know what you’re going to say?”
I stand from my seat, smoothing my hand down my gown, pushing my fear at seeing Azar again away. “I do. Whether my words are going to achieve what I aim for them to is another story.”
“I will do what I can to make sure they do.”
“I know you will. I… Thank you Maryam. For everything. You didn’t have to give me all that you have and you did anyway.”
Her eyes start to well with tears, but she clears her throat, looking away for a second when a sniffle leaves her. Then her eyes are back on mine, and a steely resolve is in them. “That sounded like goodbye Ameera. And that I won’t have.”
I smile and nod. “No goodbyes.”
Azar and his procession must ride hard to get here because before the sun has even begun to sink from the sky, his arrival is announced. I look myself over in the mirror, at my soft pink gown, red flowers seeming to grow at the bottom and trail up the gown until they cover my high neck. I wear my red head wrap high, twisted until it forms a bun I pin in place. A gown I hate to waste on Azar, but I’m playing the role of the good daughter, the good future wife. And that woman would want to look nice for Azar.
A guard knocks on my door, one of my father’s, and Zaynah and I follow him down the hall towards the entrance. My father, dressed in a white suit with black buttons and epaulets on the shoulders, looks me over as I approach him. Then he turns back towards the door and pastes a fake smile on his face. Or maybe that is his real smile. How would I know?
When I look outside and see Azar sliding off the side of his huge horse, my mouth goes dry, remembering when he had me cornered in the hallway. His finger on my lip, so close I could feel his breath ghosting across my cheek. His words and threats run through my mind. Bend or break. Marriage or war. And he meant them. His words and threats were not empty. He’s proven that.
I look behind him when I see movement, and the witch gets off her horse gracefully, looking around at the palace like it’s a new home she’s come to move into. Then I notice the number of guards he’s brought. Many. Too many for his sole purpose of coming here for a wedding. A few nobles from Sameer have come along as well, to witness the marriage no doubt, but I quickly look away from them in their fine clothes and excessive jewelry, and back to the guards. Or are they…soldiers? They are bigger, much more muscled than the guards, and wear armor instead of uniforms. They carry two swords instead of one. Their scarred faces tell of many battles fought.
The guards on the sides of me look at each other nervously, but my father doesn’t seem the least bit worried that Azar has brought a small army with him to Nur. He’s too busy welcoming his dear enemy with open arms.
“King Azar,” he greets him cheerfully. “I’m so glad you had a safe trip and can see the beauty of Nur.”
But Azar’s eyes are only on me, looking me up and down, from head wrap to slippered feet, again and again.
“Yes, beautiful indeed,” his too deep voice replies. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Princess.”
He bends over and takes my hand, bringing it to his lips. That sickness I haven’t felt since we left Sameer rolls through me now. I have to suppress the shudder that tries to rake my body. My lips curve up in a smile instead of curling in a snarl like they want to.
“You as well, King Azar.”
“Hmm.” He smirks as he straightens. “I can only imagine how much you’re enjoying my presence. You’re looking quite…ravishing. Different than when you came to my throne room looking ready for battle. Tell me, what has changed since then?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see my father’s stern face. A warning not to say the wrong thing.
“I saw the error of my ways. Now I know exactly what is necessary for my kingdom.”
“And what is that?” he asks.
“Our marriage. Our kingdoms becoming one. Change. Progress.”
His eyes access me, looking for the lie, waiting for my mask to slip. But he won’t find what he’s looking for. I make sure of it. All he sees staring back at him is what I choose to reveal. A girl, covered, but for her smiling face and hands, one of which is still held in his much larger one. He glances away, finally acknowledging my father.
“I trust there are lodgings for my nobles and guards?” he questions.
“Of course, of course.”
My father begins instructing the servants on what to do, and the rush of movement and noise allows Azar to move closer to me unnoticed by everyone else. But I notice. How could I not? My body locks, my spine getting straighter as my heart begins beating faster. His hand tightens on mine to the point of pain, pinching my fingers together, making the knuckles rub against each other. He brings my hand to his chest. Any looking would think it was a romantic gesture, but no, it’s a symbol of what our marriage will be. Pretty on the outside, a nightmare of pain on the inside.
“I see your father has broken you before I got the chance to,” he whispers. “Pity. We’ll have to find some other way to have our fun then.”
“I’m sure your head is full of ideas on how to make others suffer for your enjoyment,” I say through clenched teeth, trying to pull my hand away.
His grip only tightens, and I barely keep a whimper from escaping my mouth. “Maybe he hasn’t broken you completely. Good.”
He lets go of my hand, and his fingerprints are etched into my skin when I bring it back to my side. Then he passes me, going to speak to my father, and I see his witch staring at me.