Duty and the Beast(28)

Somehow her legs managed to carry her all the way from the ceremony to the balcony of the palace.

Somehow she even managed to smile stiffly at the crowd gathered in the  square spread out below to celebrate their first sight of the new King  and Queen of Al-Jirad.

Their cheers didn't come close to touching her. The only word she heard over and over in her mind was impregnate.

'You seem tense, Aisha.'

'Do I?'

She had suffered through the interminable state reception, putting up  with inane small-talk and diplomatic and ultimately meaningless  mutterings with as much grace as she could muster. But now, as she  removed one of the heavy chandelier earrings from her lobe, she could  enjoy a brief respite in their suite as they changed before a formal  dinner.

Or she could have enjoyed it, that was, if Zoltan hadn't also been  there. She pulled the other earring loose and dropped it to the dressing  table in a clatter, just wanting the heavy weight gone from her ear,  and wishing that the heavy weight on her heart could be so easily  discarded.

Across the room Zoltan stopped tugging at his tie. 'It appears the stress of becoming queen is getting to you.'

'Tell me about it.'

'So maybe you need to relax.'

'And what did you have in mind?' she said, the taste of bile bitter in  her throat. 'Perhaps a little impregnation to calm me down and turn me  back into your oh-so-biddable wife?'

He blinked. Slowly. His jaw set. 'Is that what you're upset about, the  wording of the ceremony?' He shrugged. 'It's ancient. It is required by  the texts.'                       
       
           



       

'As, it seems, was the need to impregnate me before the coronation.'

'Aisha,' he said, coming closer, putting his hands to her shoulders, 'don't be like this.'

'Don't touch me!' she said, brushing his hands away. 'You knew, didn't  you? You knew before we went to Belshazzah that you had to get me to  sleep with you.'

'Princess,' he said, holding out one hand to her. 'Aisha, what is the point of this? It is already done. Did you not enjoy it?'

Her chest heaving with indignation at his inference that everything must  be all right if the sex was any good, she demanded, 'What would have  happened if you had not impregnated me before the coronation? If your  answer to that question in the ceremony had been no?'

His jaw ground together, his eyes glinted. 'I would not have been crowned king.'

'And you knew that all the time we were at Belshazzah.'

'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.

And the thing that made him angrier than ever, the thing that made him  steam and fume, was that for just one day, just a few short hours, he  had actually believed that this marriage might work.

He'd actually believed they had something that could take this marriage  beyond the realms of duty and into something entirely more pleasurable.

Fool!

He'd been blinded by sex, pure and simple. So blown away by the delights  of her sweet, responsive body, he'd forgotten what he was dealing with:  a skin-deep princess who wanted the entire fairy-tale, from the  once-upon-a-time to the happy-ever-after. When was she going to realise  this was real life, not the pages from some child's picture book?

He paused as he came to the door of her suite, wondering if she'd  already had her belongings removed and shipped. Nothing would surprise  him.

He pushed open the door. It was silent inside and eerily dark with the  closed curtains, only the light from the still-open door spilling in.  There was no trace of her. He crossed the floor to her dressing room and  tugged open the door. Nothing. She'd had them pack every single thing  and wasted no time about it. They had taken every trace, until one might  think she had never been here at all.

He ground his teeth together as he contemplated her mood when she had  given the instructions to collect her belongings. Clearly she did not  consider her return to Jemeya to be in any way temporary. Clearly she  had no wish to be here. Maybe he should cut his losses and let her go.  He would be well rid of her. He would have to ask Hamzah if that was an  option that could be tolerated.

He was on his way out when his passing caused something to flutter, like  loose papers riffling in the breeze, and he turned towards where the  sound had come from. He pulled open a curtain, let light flood in and  found them straight away. There were some loose papers on a desk tucked  haphazardly under a blotter. He frowned, remembering a letter she'd been  writing the night they'd been married when he'd come looking for her;  remembering the way her fingers had shifted the pages as she'd looked  down at them. The rushed packers had not done such a thorough job after  all.