‘I knew.’
‘And not once did you bother to tell me.’
‘I tried. I was going to—’
‘I don’t believe you!’
‘It’s the truth! I was going to—’
‘No! You told me you were taking me there so we might get to know each other, because the palace was too big, too public. You never once told me it was so you could secure the throne by ensuring I slept with you in time for the coronation. Don’t you remember what you told me in the car on the way, that you didn’t need to go to so much trouble to get into my pants because you could so easily find a dark corner in the palace to perform the task?’
‘“Getting into your pants” are your words. They were never mine.’
‘Don’t get semantic, because playing with words won’t work in this case. It doesn’t matter which words you use. Because when it all comes down to it that’s what you needed, that’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? Getting into my pants—impregnating me with your seed—only that would ensure you the throne.’
‘I never lied to you,’ he said, ‘just because I didn’t tell you the intimate details of the pact.’
She scoffed, indignant at the way he could worm his way around the truth. ‘Not openly, perhaps. You didn’t tell me what you knew. Instead you let me think that sleeping with you was my choice, that I had some say. While all the time you knew the clock was already ticking.
‘Your lie was a lie all the same. It was one of omission.’
‘Princess. Aisha, listen.’
‘No! I am through with listening to you. Do you have any idea how betrayed I feel right now? How shattered that you could not entrust me with the details of my own future?’ She put her shaking head in her hands before she raised her head and flung her arms wide. ‘No. I am done with it, just as I am done with you and anything to do with you.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m saying I have had enough of this farce of a marriage. I want out of it.’
‘You can’t just walk away from this marriage. You are bound to me just as I am bound to you.’
‘Why shouldn’t I walk away? You’re king now. You don’t need me any more. Don’t try to tell me that the Sacred Book of Al-Jirad, the font of all knowledge and power, would prevent a queen who has been lied to and manipulated from escaping the chains of her captives? I am sure the wisdom of the ages would be on her side. And, if not, I am sure the weight of modern justice would support her.’
‘Even though you have not yet finished your duty? You have yet to deliver the necessary heirs expected of this union .’
She tossed her head. ‘Who knows, maybe there is a little bastard prince already implanted in my womb.’
‘We are married. He would not be a bastard.’
‘You don’t think so?’ From somewhere she managed to dredge up a smile. ‘Though maybe you’re right. Maybe he won’t take after you. In any event, I am not staying here in this place a moment longer. I am going home to Jemeya.’
‘You forget something, Princess—you need to supply two heirs.’
She raised her chin. ‘So send me your sperm, Zoltan, and I will gladly save you any more pretence and any more of your lies and I will happily impregnate myself! ‘
He’d always known she was shallow. Zoltan crashed through the air as he strode down the passageway towards his suite, sick of a night spent making excuses, tired of explaining the new queen was unfortunately ‘indisposed’.
She wasn’t indisposed. What he’d really wanted to tell people was that she was a spoilt little princess who wanted everything all her own way—expected it—as if it was her God-given right. Well, he’d never wanted this marriage in the first place himself. He was better off without her. He would cope just fine. He tugged at the button at his collar, needing more oxygen than the suddenly tight collar allowed.
But—damn—maybe not Al-Jirad.
He would have to talk to Hamzah, find out how the queen’s sudden absence would change things, to see if there was a workable way around her absence. There was nothing he could recall in the Sacred Book of Al-Jirad, but Hamzah would know the legalities of it all. Although her father would no doubt talk her around eventually; he was as hard-nosed about doing one’s duty as anyone when it all came down to it. He had promised Zoltan tonight when they had exchanged a quiet word earlier on that he would soon talk sense into his precious daughter’s head.
Wall hangings fluttered as he passed like a dark storm cloud, creating turbulence in the formerly serene air.