To date, Zufar’s own father had been the only one to abdicate the throne and that had sent shock waves through the kingdom.
‘Your Highness?’
Niesha whirled around, expecting Zufar to be behind her. When he wasn’t, she turned back around, frowning at Halimah.
‘Your Highness, which gown do you prefer?’ the attendant urged.
She realised that she was the one being addressed, and her heart lurched. ‘Please, don’t call me that.’
Halimah and the young attendants exchanged apprehensive looks. ‘Begging your pardon, but that is your official title. To address you as anything else would be disrespectful, Your Highness.’
‘I see,’ Niesha replied. Her resentment of moments before dissipated, replaced with the stark notion that, whether she liked it or not, they truly saw her differently now. She might not feel it inside but to them she was now a rarefied species, no longer one of them. Niesha didn’t know whether to be sad or to give into more hysteria. She settled for a solemn nod. ‘Okay.’ She knew how rigorously the rules of the palace were followed. The last thing she wanted to do was cause trouble for the staff. She would be one of them again soon enough.
‘I’ve prepared some tea for Your Highness. Jasmine tea, to calm the nerves before the wedding night,’ Halimah offered with a benign smile.
Niesha stopped herself from blurting that it was a waste of time. She didn’t intend to sleep in Zufar’s private quarters tonight or on any other night.
‘Can you help me with my gown, please?’
‘Of course, Your Highness,’ Halimah sang out.
Gentle hands began undoing her clothing. She wasn’t sure why she paid closer attention this time. Perhaps it was the knowledge that she would never be close to such perfect creations again that made her look down at her gown properly for the first time, noticing the precious stones sewn into the skirts swirling around her legs as it was removed, the delicate sleeves and masterful design.
An exquisite diamond and sapphire necklace gleamed against her skin, the gems in her ears and on her wrist adding to the magical quality of the wedding gown that didn’t belong to her and never would.
But for one small infinitesimal moment, she allowed herself to believe that this was real.
When she finally met her gaze in the mirror, she dared to dream that when this moment was far behind her, she would one day experience a wedding day of her own.
Smaller and less spectacular, of course, but enchanted all the same.
First, though, she had to get through to Zufar. Had to extricate herself from this web of impossible circumstances closing in on her. She raised her arms as the gown was lifted over her head and spirited away.
Then Halimah was in front of her, gesturing to an array of gorgeous evening gowns hanging from a rail.
Niesha stared at the dresses in surprise. ‘Are these new?’ They hadn’t been there this morning and she hadn’t spotted them with the bridal trousseau.
Halimah nodded. ‘His Highness ordered these for you himself.’
‘Excuse me?’ she blurted.
A smile curved Halimah’s lips. ‘The suddenness of the...new arrangements left you no choice but to wear the only wedding gown available. But I believe your new husband did not wish to see you in another woman’s clothes on the night of your wedding. He had the royal couturier provide these for you especially.’ There was wistfulness in Halimah’s voice that suggested that underneath the sometimes brusque exterior lurked a romantic.
Nevertheless, Niesha was stunned Zufar had arranged all this. Should she really be surprised? If the bombshell he’d dropped on the dance floor was true, then within minutes of entering this room this afternoon he’d made a life-altering decision for her without so much as blinking in her direction.
The formidable calculation behind that staggered her.
‘Which one is it to be, Your Highness?’ Halimah prompted.
Half dazed, Niesha pointed to the emerald sequinned gown, made of material she was almost too afraid to touch. ‘That one,’ she murmured.
‘A wonderful choice, Your Highness,’ Halimah agreed.
That bubble of hysteria threatened again. She swallowed it down, willing herself to remain quiet as the women bustled around her again.
Her hair was rearranged, her make-up touched up, and heels presented to her.
‘We thought you would prefer your tea on the terrace, Your Highness. The fireworks are still going on, and you can get the best view from there.’