‘She came home. And aside from my father closing the north wing so he didn’t have to see where she fell, yes, things got better. But things were never the same.’
‘Because you witnessed the depth of your parents’ love?’ Allegra ventured, a gentle but haunting understanding on her face as she stared at him.
‘No. I saw the destructiveness of my father’s obsession.’
Rahim’s eyes had been wrenched wide open to the debilitating effects of love. The emotion he’d basked in and taken for granted had suddenly been what he’d feared would be his own and his beloved homeland’s eventual downfall.
‘But even then I hoped I was wrong. That what I’d witnessed from my father that week had been a temporary aberration.’ Because surely his father’s love was supposed to envelope his son and every single one of his subjects, not just his beloved wife? And that love should empower him to be a better ruler and father, not a hollowed-out wraith the moment it was threatened?
‘What happened?’ she asked from behind him.
‘My mother died four years later and my father proved to me just how much worse things could get.’
One hand slid over his bicep, pressing, surprising him with its strength. Surprising him with how much he wanted it to remain there. ‘You must have both been devastated.’
‘My father’s life ended that day.’ Khalil Al-Hadi had stopped living the moment his wife and unborn second child had died. ‘And as soon as I was able, I moved to Washington, DC.’ It was the place he’d forced himself to call home. The place he’d used the next fifteen years to forget his father and his homeland.
At first, Rahim hadn’t wanted to believe what was playing out before his very eyes. But with each day, he’d seen his reality alter alarmingly and his life slip into a frightening hell that triggered unfor
tunate reactions in him. By the time he’d realised his attempts were futile, that his father could see no further than his absolute grief, Rahim’s hedonistic lifestyle had become an addiction he hadn’t wanted to shake. He’d seen no reason to put the brakes on the heady freedom that came with little or no responsibility with matters concerning Dar-Aman. After all, if his father couldn’t be bothered to take an interest in what Rahim did, Rahim would reciprocate by cutting himself off totally from his homeland.
He rubbed absently at the pain lodged beneath his collarbone, his soul mourning just how effective his self-imposed exile had been. So much so he hadn’t known how bad things got...how badly his people had been neglected.
‘There’s more to it than that though, isn’t there?’
His mouth twisted in a caricature of a smile as he turned to face her. He stared into her clear blue eyes, wondering what it would feel like to drown in them. Collecting himself, he stalled for time. ‘There always is, habibi, as I believe there is for you too. But this is where I cop out and say I don’t wish to speak ill of the dead.’
‘Or this is where you show a chink in your armour that says you’re human.’
‘Why would I want to display such a flaw?’
‘Aren’t heroes with flaws the ones who always win the girl in the end? Or am I misquoting popular fiction?’
‘We’re not fictional characters, Allegra,’ he stated matter-of-factly. ‘Blind obsession can be harmful to the giver and the receiver. I prefer to live in reality, no matter how unpalatable it can be at times.’
His observation blew away the last of the lingering wistfulness in her eyes. He watched, fascinated, as her practical façade slid into place. ‘You’re right, we’re not living in a fairy tale. Shall we continue with the tour?’
Like a true diplomat, she made the right noises, and admired the rich frescoes and endless rows of jaw-dropping chandeliers once they reached the bazaar room, but after examining a few ornaments set on the long sideboards lining the walls, she was ready to move on. The library that had been his grandfather’s pride and joy also received praise, but it wasn’t until they reached the throne room, where all the coronations in Dar-Aman had taken place, that her eyes lit up with true interest.
‘All the crowns from the very first ruler of Dar-Aman are kept in this room.’
‘If I remember correctly, it’s also the room that holds your mother’s most extensive collection of antique treasure boxes, correct?’
He smiled. ‘Correct, although there’s another smaller, private collection,’ he replied.
Before he could give a further history, she let go of his arm and moved to the first cabinet. Rahim watched her carefully examine each ornament, enquire as to its pedigree before moving to the next.
He offered further snippets of information, but she seemed oblivious to him, her engrossment in the cabinets complete.
When a discreet cough alerted him to Harun’s presence, he turned. Nodding at his advisor’s silent signal, Rahim turned to her. ‘Your presence as guest of honour is required.’
She hid her disappointment well, but he saw it. ‘Can we return later?’
‘If you wish,’ he murmured, his instinct sending a veiled warning he couldn’t quite decipher yet. She didn’t take his arm again, and she seemed almost reluctant to leave the throne room.
When they reached the Mariam Ballroom, named after his grandmother, he made it a point to introduce her to as many dignitaries as possible. Allegra conversed intelligently, but through it all Rahim could sense her distraction, like she was wearing a mask that she was growing weary of donning.
Puzzled, he tried harder to engage her, to steer her round to what he wanted to discuss with her. It was only when he mentioned the women of Nur-Aman that she focused fully on him.