‘Not expecting. Requesting. And the throne is too heavy to toss so you’ll just have to settle for sitting on it.’
His brother exhaled noisily. ‘I’m glad you’re okay with cracking jokes. That means you’re not that far gone. That you still have time to—’
‘My mind is made up, Malak.’ He injected the conviction of his decision into his words.
Once he’d come to the realisation that it was his only option, it had been surprisingly easy. The greater battle of winning his wife’s heart was yet to come.
‘You really mean it,’ Malak observed with a stunned look. At Zufar’s nod, he threw out his hands. ‘What the hell? I don’t want it either.’
‘But you will take it because this kingdom is important to both of us. And our people need you too much for you to walk away.’
Malak opened his mouth to protest. But a full minute passed in silence as he breathed in and out, his gaze locked with Zufar’s.
Zufar saw the moment duty overcame individualism, when the mantle of responsibility settled firmly on his brother’s shoulders. It had been exactly like that for him.
‘Okay. I accept.’
He rounded his desk and held out his hand. ‘Godspeed.’
Malak pulled him into a hug. ‘Same to you, brother.’
* * *
Five hours later, Zufar stood looking at his father, wondering for the umpteenth time if the visit had been wise. He didn’t know. In fact, he wasn’t sure about a lot of things any more.
But one thing he saw—and recognised—was the pain of loss on his father’s face. It was similar to the one currently clawing deeper roots into his heart.
Was this what it felt like to have something right in front of you and lose it so completely, leaving only a gaping wound?
Because he’d lost Niesha. His foolish attempt to join her in Rumadah to mitigate the looming loss had failed miserably.
‘Why have you come here, son?’
Son.
Another wrench of agony joined the endless symphony of pain slashing his heart. Zufar couldn’t remember the last time his father had called him that. If ever. Or perhaps he had called him that but Zufar, too wrapped up in his own bitter loneliness, hadn’t noticed?
He tried to shake off the feelings but they wouldn’t leave him. What else had he missed while he’d been busy feeling wronged and aggrieved? Looking into his father’s eyes now, he thought he saw a plea that looked like his own. Even a wry understanding.
As if he saw something Zufar didn’t.
For some reason that observation both soothed and terrified him. For so long he’d harshly denounced anything to do with his father. But what if the wrongs he’d condemned his parent for were imprinted in his own DNA after all? What if he’d been predestined to repeat the same sins?
Or...what if they weren’t wrong at all? Just an extremely misguided obsession but one that could have been mitigated with the right partner by his father’s side?
Again he tried to shake off the disturbing thoughts. They persisted until he realised he hadn’t answered his father’s question.
‘Father, I have some news to share with you.’
* * *
Niesha walked into Zufar’s library, her heartbeat drumming madly in her ears. She’d come straight from the airport to the palace, the urge to speak to him after an excruciating twenty-four hours without him, paramount.
He was sitting elegantly cross-legged on a large, stripped antique sofa, a book on Khalian history balanced on his knee.
As usual, the sight of him arrested her, slowing her steps as she absorbed his virile essence. He was in one of her favourite rooms of the palace but the books might as well have been candlesticks for all the attention she paid to them.
He looked up, his gaze slowly raking her from head to toe before reconnecting with hers.