As her family reeled that Kanza would get a wedding that topped that of a member of the ruling family and in the royal palace, too—where most of them had rarely set foot—Aram took her father aside to discuss her mahr. As the dowry or “bride’s price” was paid to the father, Aram let everyone hear that her father could name any number. As his shabkah to Kanza, the bride’s gift, he was writing his main business in her name.
Kanza let him deluge her in extravagant gestures and tumbled deeper in love with him. He was defending her against her family’s insensitivity and honoring her in front of them and all of Zohayd by showing them there were no lengths he wouldn’t go to for the privilege of her hand.
She’d later tell him that her mahr was his heart and her shabkah was his body.
But then, he already knew that.
Now that she was as rock-stable certain of his love as he was of hers, she was ready to marry him right there on the spot. Three days felt like such an eternity. Couldn’t they just elope?
*
Kanza really wished they had eloped.
Preparing for the wedding, even though Aram had taken care of most of the arrangements, was nerve-racking.
At least now it would be over in a few hours.
If only it would start already. The hour until it did felt like forever. Not that anyone else seemed to think so. Everyone kept lamenting that they didn’t have more time.
“It’s a curse.”
Maram, the queen of Zohayd, and Johara’s sister-in-law, threw her hands in the air as she turned from sending two of her ladies-in-waiting for last-minute adjustments in Kanza’s bridal procession’s bouquets. The florist had sent white and yellow roses instead of the cream and pale gold Aram had ordered, which would go with all the gowns.
“No matter what—” Johara explained Maram’s exclamation “—we end up preparing royal weddings in less and less time.”
Kanza grinned at all the ladies present, still shell-shocked that all the women of the royal houses of Zohayd, Azmahar and even Judar were here to help prepare her wedding. “Take heart, everyone. This is only a quasi-royal wedding.”
“It is a bona fide royal one around here, Kanza.” That was Talia Aal Shalaan, Johara’s other sister-in-law. “It’s par for the course when you’re a friend or relative to any of the royal family members. And you and Aram are both to so many of us. But this is an all-time crunch, and there is no earthshaking cause for the haste as there was in the other royal weddings we’ve rushed through preparing here.”
“Aram can’t wait.” Johara giggled, winking to her mother, then to Kanza. “That is earthshaking.”
Talia chuckled. “Another imperious man, huh? He’ll fit right in with our men’s Brotherhood of Bigheadedness.”
Maram pretended severity. “Since this haste is only at his whim, this Aram of yours deserves to be punished.”
“Oh, I’ll punish him.” Kanza chuckled, then blushed as Jacqueline Nazaryan, her future mother-in-law, blinked.
Man, she liked her a lot, but it would be a while until the poised swan of a French lady got used to Kanza’s brashness.
Maram rolled her eyes. “And if he’s anything like my Amjad, he’ll love it. I applaud you for taming that one. I never saw Amjad bristle around another man as he does around Aram. A sign he’s in a class of his own in being intractable.”
“Oh, Aram is nothing of the sort….” Kanza caught herself and laughed. “Now. He told me how he locked horns with Amjad when he lived here, and I think it’s because they are too alike.”
Maram laughed. “Really? Someone who’s actually similar to my Amjad? That I’d like to see. We might need to put him in a museum.”
As the ladies joined in laughter, Carmen Aal Masood came in. Carmen was the event planner extraordinaire whose services Aram had enlisted in return for contributing an unnamed fortune to a few of her favorite charities, and the wife of the eldest Aal Masood brother, Farooq, who gave up the throne of Judar to marry her. The Aal Masoods were also Kanza’s relatives from their Aal Ajmaan mother’s side.
Yeah, it was all tangled up around here.
“So you ready to hop into your dress, Kanza?” Carmen said, carrying said dress in its wrapping.
Kanza sprang to her feet. “Am I! I can’t wait to get this show on the road.”
Lujayn, yet another of Johara’s sisters-in-law, the wife of Shaheen’s half brother Jalal, sighed. “At least you’re eager for your wedding to start. Almost every lady here had a rocky start, and our weddings felt like the end of the world.”
Farah, the wife of the second-eldest Judarian prince, Shehab Aal Masood, raised her hand. “I had my end of the world before the wedding. So I was among the minority who were deliriously happy during it.”
“Kanza doesn’t seem deliriously happy.” Aliyah, King Kamal Aal Masood of Judar’s wife—the queen who wore black at her own wedding then rocked the whole region when she challenged her groom to a sword duel on global live feed—gave Kanza a contemplative look. “You’re treating it all with the nonchalance of one of the guests. Worse, with the impatience of one of the caterers who just wants it over with so she can get the hell home.”