“You actually play the lead role in averting this catastrophe.”
“What could I possibly have to do with resolving your political conflicts?”
“Everything really. Only you can stop the war now, by marrying an Aal Ghaanem prince.”
“What?”
“Only a blood-mixing union will end hostilities and forge a long-lasting alliance.”
She snatched her hand from his grasp, erupting to her feet. “Did I say you were stuck in the eleventh century? You’ve just stumbled five more centuries backward. Not so good seeing you, Kamal. And don’t expect to lay eyes on me for a long while. Certainly never in Judar again.”
Kamal gave her that unfazed glance that made her want to shriek at the top of her lungs. “It’s this or war. The war you know full well would come at an unthinkable price to everyone in Judar—and in Saraya and Jareer, too.”
Wincing at the terrible images his words smeared across her imagination, she gritted out, “Let’s say for argument’s sake that I don’t think you’re all insane to be still dabbling in marriages of state to settle political disputes. The Aal Masoods have many princesses who’re just right for the role of political bride. In fact, some have been born and bred for the role. So how are any of you foolish enough to consider me—aka the Prodigal Princess?”
Lethal steel came into Kamal’s eyes. “Others’ opinions are irrelevant. You’re the princess of Judar. Only your blood could end centuries of enmity and forge an unbreakable alliance. So it’s not a choice. You are getting married to the Aal Ghaanem prince.”
“Wow. If you wore a crown, I’d think it got too tight on your swelling head and gave you brain damage. Anyway, if you think you can sacrifice me at the altar of your tribal reconciliations, you’re suffering from serious delusions.”
“We all offer sacrifices when our kingdom needs us.”
“What sacrifices?” She coughed a furious chuckle. “To remain married to Carmen, Farooq tossed his crown-prince rank to Shehab when our kingdom needed him. Shehab did the same with you, to marry Farah. You grabbed the rank and sacrifice only because it got you Aliyah in the bargain. You’re all living in ecstatic-ever-afters because you did exactly what you wanted and never sacrificed a thing for ‘our kingdom.’”
“Farooq and Shehab had the option of passing on their duty. I didn’t, like you don’t now. And I thought it was a sacrifice when I accepted my duty.”
“No, you didn’t. You knew nothing less than another threat of war would get Aliyah to say good-morning to you again. You pounced on the ‘duty’ that would make her your queen and pretended to hate your ‘fate.’” At his raised eyebrows, she smirked. “I can figure things out pretty good, ya akhi al azeez. So spare me the sacrifice speech, brother dear. You’re out of your mind if you think you can sway me into this by appealing to my patriotism.”
“Then it will be your steep humanitarian inclinations. You’ve been in war zones. You know that once war starts, there’s no stopping the chain reaction that harvests lives in its path. As a woman who lives to alleviate the suffering of others, and who can stop this nightmarish scenario, you’ll do anything to abort it, even if you abhor Judar and the whole region. And the very idea of marriage.”
The terrible knowledge that he was right, if there was no other choice, seeped into her marrow. “So now what? You’ll line up Aal Ghaanem princes and I’ll pick the least offensive one? And the one I pick would just accept being sacrificed for his kingdom’s peace and prosperity?”
“If a man considers marrying you a sacrifice, he must be devoid of even a drop of testosterone.”
“You won’t appeal to my feminine ego, either. Any man in the region would rather jump out of a ten-story window than marry a woman like me, the princess of Judar or not.”
“A woman like you would be an irreplaceable treasure to any man in any region.”
“Blatant brotherly hyperbole aside, no, a woman like me wouldn’t. A woman living alone in the West since she was eighteen is the stuff of region-wide dishonor around here. It had to be something as dire as the threat of war and the promise of unending oil to sweeten my scandalous pill for one of those stuck-in-the-dark-ages princes.”
“The new generation of princes are nowhere as bad as that.”
“The only one I know who isn’t is Najeeb. But I bet he won’t be joining the lineup.” Her lips twisted with remembered bitterness. “King Hassan would never sacrifice his heir to such a fate as me, no matter the incentives.”
Kamal waved his hand. “You won’t suffer the discomfort of a lineup. The Aal Ghaanem prince has already been chosen.”
She almost had to pick her jaw off the floor this time. “How can I express my gratitude that you’ve gone the extra mile and abolished whatever choice I had in this antiquated process?”
Kamal’s lips twitched. “Let me rephrase my extremely misleading statement. The Aal Ghaanem prince volunteered. And he is already here. But he had the consideration to let me prepare you before he came in. So shall I send him in...or do you need some more time before you meet your groom-to-be?”
She sank back onto the couch, objections and insults swarming so violently it was impossible to pick one to voice.
Calmly disregarding her apoplectic state, Kamal bent and kissed her cheek. “Give this a chance, and it’ll all work out for the best. You have me as the best example for assa ann takraho shai’an wa hwa khairon lakkom.”
You may hate something and it’s for your best.
Before she could do something drastic, like poke him in the eye, he straightened, turned on his heel and walked away.
She watched him disappear, all her mental functions on the fritz.
What had just happened?
Was she really back in Judar? Only to find herself being pushed into a far worse cage than anything her previous life here had been? Could it be true that refusal wasn’t an option?
Suddenly a suspicion cleaved into her brain.
The logical progression to this nightmare.
The identity of this “volunteer.”
The man who was the reason she’d sworn never to return to this region. He was an Aal Ghaanem prince, even if the world forgot that most of the time.
But he would never volunteer to...to...
You’re mine, Jala. And no matter how long it takes, I swear to you, I will reclaim you. I will make you beg to be mine again.