And she knew it was already causing untold damages.
She’d noted the pointed absence of all the tribes they’d been negotiating with. She could only surmise the worst.
But for now, he was giving her more miracles by the moment. And she would take them all and treasure each forever.
The music changed into a hotter rhythm. Her heart followed suit as the spotlight following her split in two, the duplicate inching away, leading her gaze with its sweep.
Then it fell on him.
She stopped, yanked her father to a halt with her, heard Amjad snort as he and Harres almost walked into them. But nothing mattered. Nothing but Shaheen.
It was the first time she’d seen him like this. And she’d thought he looked like a desert god in modern clothes!
Now, swathed in the trappings of his heritage, the distillation of its art and chivalry and history, he was beyond description. And his eyes were telling her he cared about only one thing. Becoming hers.
She moved again, the desire to examine his every detail more closely galvanizing her.
The vigorous waves of his hair, now brushing his collar, gleamed deepest mahogany under the spotlight, which struck tongues of flame from his fiery-brown eyes. His face had never looked more noble, more potent, with every slash of character carved deeper in the stark light. The rest of his perfection was encased in a three-piece outfit fashioned from heavy jamawar silk in browns and golds echoing her own clothing. A scarf printed with the royal insignia in an ingenious repetition and gathered by a dazzling brooch, another piece from the Pride of Zohayd, overlaid his high-collared, fitted golden top. A wide bronze satin sash connected the top to deeper bronze pants that stretched over the power of his thighs and legs, billowing at their ends to gather into burnt brown polished leather boots.
But it was the cloak on top of it all that that made her feel he’d come to her from a trip through the past.
The color of darkest, richest earth, it fell from his endless shoulders in relaxed pleats to his feet, looked as if it were constantly sighing in pleasure to be surrounding him. Embroidery on its front panel descended in a wide V to his waist level, the gold thread and beads forming such elaborate motifs, the artist in her salivated for the chance to examine their formation and realization. The embellishments seemed to accentuate his masculinity, if that was possible.
With her every step nearer, he tensed, and the cloak seemed to bate its breath with him for her arrival. She wished he’d hide her within it, transport her away from all the pomp and attention.
But she knew he was doing this for her, to honor her, to show her that this was no damage-control maneuver but the one thing he wanted to do, was proud to, and was doing with as much fanfare as possible so no one would mistake his desire and pride.
Before she could throw herself into his arms, a blonde woman in a cream sarilike outfit and a man as tall as Shaheen in all-black with midnight hair down to his shoulders stepped out of the darkness into the circle of light.
Johara almost choked.
She’d been sad that this would be too rushed, too hushed, not even a real wedding, that she wouldn’t have them here. But Shaheen…he…he…
He’d brought her mother and brother to her!
For a stunned moment, her mind compensated for her body’s inability to move, streaked.
She hadn’t seen Aram face-to-face in over a year. She’d missed him terribly, drank in the sight of him now. He looked more like a pirate than ever, seeming to grow more imposing with each passing year, her total opposite in coloring, having inherited her mother’s dazzling turquoise eyes and their father’s swarthy complexion and night-black hair, and combining their mother’s family’s height with the sturdiness and breadth of their father’s. Her mother looked her eternally beautiful self.
And she surged to them, encompassed them with Shaheen in her delight. Her kisses moved from her mother to Aram, ended all over Shaheen’s face with a reiteration of thanks, for this gift, his best yet.
The music changed yet again, to take on a more solemn and momentous timber, to herald the next stage in the ceremony.
Her mother caught her closer, kissed her again. “Ma cherie, I never thought this day would come to pass. I was so worried about you.”
Johara pulled back from her, stunned. “You knew?”
“I always knew.” Her mother’s eyes grew more brilliant with tears. “It’s why I never wanted to come back here. I didn’t want you exposed to heartache. I thought your love for Shaheen would only hurt you, since it was impossible. I can’t tell you how relieved I am, how happy that I was wrong.”
She surrendered to her mother’s fierce hug again, processing this new knowledge. Seemed she was totally useless in keeping a secret. Everyone except her father had read her like an open book.
Then a thought struck her and she pushed out of her mother’s arms and rounded on Aram. “Which reminds me!” She glowered her displeasure at him. “You were wrong.”
He looked taken aback for a second, his eyes flying accusingly to Shaheen, before he looked back at her, smirking. “If this doesn’t prove I was right, I don’t know what does.”
“You were wrong then. And I want an apology!”
“I won’t apologize for doing what I had to, to protect you.”
“Oh, you will apologize. To Shaheen! How could you accuse him of…any of that? You of all people, his supposed best friend?”
“You’re not going to have another sibling fight right here, are you?” Harres groaned. “I thought we’ve had enough of those.”
“No such thing as enough sibling fights,” Amjad said, his very voice an incitement. “And again, when better? I say this is long overdue. Have at it, boys and girls.”
Aram bared his teeth. “I didn’t realize how much I missed you, Amjad.”
Amjad grinned back, baring the demon inhabiting his own body. “Was that my cue to say I missed you, too? Oops, missed it.”
Johara’s father cleared his throat. “I’m realizing with each passing second that I know nothing about what’s been going on around me, but will you take pity on me and not make me feel more like the deaf in the parade here?”
Johara and Aram hugged him in apology. Shaheen let it last a moment, then he put his arms around the quartet of her family.
“There will be no more fights among us.” He looked emphatically among them. He meant all of them. Him and Aram, her and Aram, her mother and father. He didn’t continue until he got their consenting nods. “Now we need to put the ma’zoon out of his misery. After he finishes marrying us, he will spend the rest of the night printing our royal book of matrimony.”