“But these are very nice,” the third wife added, and then the three of them quietly left the tents.
Calla stared at her dresses for a long time, trying to decide on one reaction other than tears, which were pressing at her eyes and threatening to spill.
But she wouldn’t cry. Not about this. Not if she could help it.
She was a queen now, and she needed to act like it.
Which meant she needed a conference with her king. Immediately.
11
Calla stormed up to Fatim’s office nearly blind with hurt and doubt. The whole trip here had been pointless. Marrying Fatim was the worst decision ever. Her designs were horrible and would never gain traction.
Of course, she knew that she was trapped in the hurt cycle, and that it would pass. She just needed to feel sorry for herself and then get over it. But this rebuke from her tribal peers definitely qualified as something to bring up to Fatim.
She knocked three times on his office door, heard something that sounded like “Come in!” and pushed through. Fatim startled, sitting up in his chair. He lifted a finger to signal “quiet.” In the background, she heard the deep male voice of someone through his computer.
“Brother, something has got to give,” the voice counseled Fatim. She could tell he was in the middle of a video chat by the way he stared at the screen, frowning.
“Yes, well, we’ll see,” Fatim replied.
“You can’t keep working this way,” Fatim’s brother went on. “And if you try, the tribe will suffer.”
Calla realized she’d interrupted probably an important conversation. Some of the hard edges of her hurt started to fade away as she automatically attuned to what Fatim might be going through.
“Amad, I’ll need to call you back,” Fatim said, his voice tight. “Chat soon.” He clicked a few times and then turned to Calla, flashing a smile. “Hello there.”
Calla shuffled toward the big seat facing his desk, picking at a nail. “I’m so sorry. Did I interr
upt something really important?”
“No. Definitely not. Just getting some brotherly advice that I didn’t ask for.” Fatim gestured to the chair. “Please sit.”
Calla eased into the seat, studying the creases of her dress. Suddenly, what she’d come to talk about felt a little silly. She wanted to calm down a bit more, at least. Thank God he had been occupied, or else she probably would have burst in here, crying and pitiful. Better to switch to his troubles for now.
“Is there anything I can help with?” Calla asked, folding her hands on top of her skirt. “I love brainstorming and troubleshooting. And if it’s something that affects the tribe, maybe an outside perspective can help.”
Fatim watched her for a moment, seemingly considering her words. Then he exhaled sharply. “That’s a good point. Actually, Amad is trying to convince me to hire an assistant.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “That sounds like a great idea. You probably could have used an assistant years ago.”
The air went out of him, and he slumped back into his chair. “That’s what I was afraid you would say.”
“I’m sorry,” she hurried to add, “I didn’t mean—”
“No, it’s fine,” he assured her. “I’ll be honest, I’ve been thinking about integrating someone to help make things more efficient. There’s so much going on in the tribe now—far more than in past times.” He sighed, his gaze drifting across the office. “I’m tired of being the middle man between so many tribal leaders. But that’s tradition—everything goes through me.”
She remembered the words of the tribal wives in the seamstress tent. Maybe the tribe wasn’t so against modern things and change. “Why don’t you just delegate?”
“That’s exactly the Western concept I fear will alienate my tribe.” He clicks a pen, studying his lap. “But I think it’s what we need. I’ve been trying to convince myself that it’s not. But…” He gestured around him. “Here we are.”
Calla chewed on her lip for a moment. “I think you should do it. Giving up control isn’t a bad thing. I do the same with my friend here in Amatbah—she executes my plans while I’m here working, which allows me to design more. It plays to each of our strengths. You delegating to other people will allow you to do more of what you’re great at.”
A smile spread slowly across his face. “Well you are certainly wise.”
She shrugged, trying to play it off. But his assessment warmed her. While he sat clicking his pen, he added, “Now what did you want to see me about?”
She deflated slightly. Time for this sore subject. “I had an encounter with some of the tribal wives in the royal tent.” She paused and then launched into the executive summary of what went down, trying to keep her hurt feelings out of it. Fatim’s frown deepened the more she spoke. When she was finished, Fatim nodded.