It was a room that actually suited Zakari, Effie thought as she wandered around. The decor was more subdued than his tent, which had danced with colour. The floors had the same exquisite rugs, except they were darker, and heavy carved wooden furniture that held rare treasures lined the stone walls, which were softened only slightly with wall hangings. The centrepiece of the room was the bed. Large, high and imposing, it was draped in velvets of soft creams and browns and Effie couldn’t comprehend that it was where she would now rest, that this very masculine room was where she would sleep.
For tonight, though, the room was softened only by hundreds of candles that twinkled on every available surface. A vast sunken bath had been filled, its surface laced with petals, and beyond that were French windows opening out onto a balcony that gazed towards the desert.
Effie wished she were there again now.
Wished she were back in the tent, where it was only they two. Wished that they had more time alone so she could get to know better the man who was now her husband.
A man who since she had woken in his arms this morning had been distant and aloof, her questions hanging in the air unanswered, and his eyes not meeting hers. A man she no longer recognised.
‘What’s behind here?’ Effie stood at a heavy wooden door.
‘Open it and see.’
‘Oh!’ Effie blinked as she did just that. ‘It’s where I was taken today.’
‘That is your suite,’ Zakari explained. ‘You can dress there, bathe there. In the old days often couples slept apart—that is not my intention for us.’
Effie gave a small giggle, glad that was sorted; it wasn’t her intention to sleep apart either.
‘And that door?’ Effie asked, crossing the large room and standing before an identical door.
‘For the King’s mistress…’ Zakari smiled as Effie’s heart stilled. ‘Again, that goes back to days of old.’
‘You won’t keep a mistress?’ Effie’s voice was aghast. ‘I could never…’
‘Effie.’ Finally he took her in his arms, understood how daunting this was for her, that the rituals and customs he had grown up with were alien to her. ‘Why would I need a mistress?’
‘I know…’ She screwed her eyes closed and rested her head on his chest, glad to have him hold her again. ‘I’m being silly. I guess in the old days it was all about duty, about convenience, whereas we love each other.’
He didn’t answer. The musky incense was burning and filled every crevice of the room, yet it was her scent he craved and Zakari lowered his head into her hair. Despite her bulk as he held her in his arms, she felt so fragile and delicate that it seemed entirely natural to hold her trembling body and soothe her for a moment, before he told her.
Zakari could feel her heart fluttering in her throat as he caressed the back of her neck as, instead of telling her, he sought to reassure her.
‘In thirty days,’ Zakari explained, ‘the palace will be ready—you shall have the wedding of your dreams.’
‘It’s not that,’ Effie attempted. ‘Today just seemed so cold, so formal.’
‘Weddings are.’
‘So lacking…’
‘As I said, the public ceremony will be different.’
She didn’t want different.
She wanted this. She wanted what they had away from the formalities that were so much a part of Zakari’s existence.
Always tall, in his boots he was taller, stronger, the delicious masculine scent of him calming her as she breathed it in. She was his wife, that knowledge thrilled her—that Zakari was her husband melted her to her very core. It was that he was also Sheikh King Zakari Al’Farisi of Calista that Effie was having difficulty coming to terms with. But, here in his arms, away from the pomp and ceremony, when it was just they two, she felt her nerves disappear and actually felt safe.
‘Let’s eat,’ Zakari said, leading her to the lavishly prepared low table, where Effie sat on one of the soft cushions, sipping on nectar-thick fruit juices and eyeing the goodies they would share.
A feast had been laid out for them.
The table had been laid with exquisitely prepared and presented delicacies and more traditional bridal fare: mansaf—a dish of rice and lamb, which Zakari explained should be eaten with the right hand, argan, which they had eaten on their first morning together, and for desert they ate kanafeh—finely shredded pastry noodles, filled with sweet cheese and sprinkled with pistachios. Even Zakari relaxed, feeding her slices of halwah, a traditional sweet confectionery, but, as lavish as the food was, to her surprise Effie struggled to eat. Food had always been her comfort, especially since her mother had died, but tonight she didn’t need it. In the candlelight his features seemed softer, his smile so gentle, his laughter so ready, that Effie was able to be honest.
‘I’m scared of letting everyone down,’ she admitted. ‘I don’t understand all the customs, the rules…’
‘I will teach you.’
‘It’s all been so fast.’
‘So now we slow down…’ Zakari smiled. ‘Now the people take some time to get used to the idea—my family, the Aristo royals—but we two, we are married—nothing can change that. No matter what happens.’
‘What could happen?’ Effie shivered at the ominous note in his voice.
‘Nothing!’ Zakari flashed a smile, only Effie didn’t return it.
‘I wish my mother was here…’ Effie put down the kanafeh. ‘She would have been so proud.’
‘I’m sure she would have been,’ Zakari agreed.
‘What about you? You must miss your father on a day like today.’
Zakari gave a tight shrug.
‘And Anya too?’
‘Of course…’ Zakari breathed, making a mental note to correct her tomorrow; she should not ask such things, should not touch on such subjects with him.
Her blue eyes dazzled like jewels, her sweet mouth relaxing in his company, more trusting now they were alone.
‘Your other brothers—will they be at the ceremony?’
‘Of course.’
‘Aarif seems happy.’
‘He is,’ Zakari agreed, then unbended slightly. It was his wedding night, he told himself, he was entitled to relax and talk. ‘He never was happy, till he met Kalila. His guilt over what happened to Zafir was too great. Now, though, he is finally moving on, doing things for himself.’
‘As he should.’ Effie smiled. ‘As should you.’
‘I have more responsibility than Aarif.’ Suddenly Zakari was guarded. ‘Sometimes I have to do things that perhaps, if I were not King, I would not choose to…’
‘Such as?’ The Stefani diamond was gleaming between her breasts, her eyes so trusting as they smiled over to him, and Zakari actually felt a sweat break on his brow as he worked up to telling her.
‘My people have to come first—their future, their well-being is in my hands. At times I have to make difficult choices.
‘You are happy?’ Zakari suddenly checked. ‘With how things have worked out?’
‘I never imagined I could be so happy.’ Effie smiled.
‘You will have help with your wardrobe, jewels, anything you want—and if you want to change some of the rooms to your taste…’
‘That’s not why I’m happy!’ Effie scolded. ‘The title, the jewels…’ She shook her head. ‘Zakari, I would be happy if we lived in a tent, a tiny little tent in the middle of a field, so long as we have each other.’
The words were so close to what Anya had said, for a second Zakari closed his eyes. Her enthusiasm, her devotion, both warmed and chilled him, because here was the first woman he had ever met who did not seem to care for his title, a woman who seemed only to care for him. But now they were safely married, surely she could drop the act a touch and relish her new status, or at least acknowledge how wonderful her new-found riches were, yet she truly didn’t seem to care and it chilled him because now he must tell her…
‘To tell you the truth,’ Effie continued happily as Zakari’s head tightened, ‘I’m terrified. I have no desire to be Sheikha Stefania and all that it will entail, but so long as I have you…’ there was an urgent note to her voice ‘…knowing I have your love, I can put up with anything. I will do my very best to make you proud.’
‘You will.’ Zakari’s voice was gruff. ‘You do. Effie, I need to…’ He started as they both spoke together.
‘I would love a bath…’ She let out a long, exhausted sigh. ‘Sorry, you were saying? You need to…?’
‘Nothing.’ Zakari shook his head. ‘It will keep.’ He gestured to the vast sunken bath. ‘Have your bath. You deserve to relax after today.’
‘It will be cold by now!’ Effie walked over, ready to drain it, blinking that it was still deliciously warm…
‘It stays hot for as long as you want it…’
‘Like you…’ Effie flushed at her provocative words. Zakari just stared at her and there was this moment, this tiny moment where she wavered; to undress, to just stand naked before him, was so very terrifying, yet he loved her, Effie reminded herself. This man who could have anyone had chosen her, considered her beautiful. She didn’t want to disappoint him now by becoming retiring and shy. Tonight she wanted to be for him the woman she was slowly becoming.