She saw Azrael again in the presence of the solemn imam with the marriage contract laid out on a table and with Zahra and Butrus acting as witnesses. Coached by Zahra, she knew to allow the imam to ask her three times before she accepted and signed her name. She was settled down then into an elaborate wooden chair and then, to her dismay, hoisted high by a bunch of men and borne off into a big tent where a crowd awaited them. A drum was beating out a tattoo and women were wailing in apparent happiness. Molly pinned a fixed smile to her tense face as she was seated on a stage and watched Azrael brought in with loud drumming and even more pomp and ceremony. Kneeling at her feet, Zahra explained every stage, pointing out the tray of seven spices and the seven foods for purity arranged on a low table. She was brought a rose water and pomegranate cordial to drink and she was abstracted, marvelling at how stunning Azrael looked in his rich golden attire.
‘I first saw his picture at the embassy in London,’ she shared reflectively with Zahra. ‘I didn’t know who he was back then but I noticed him.’
‘Women do tend to notice His Majesty.’ Zahra smiled. ‘Butrus mentioned that the first time the King saw you it was obvious that he was noticing you as well.’
Molly wondered if that was true, if it was possible that the same awareness that had initially electrified her had also affected Azrael. While musicians took their seats, dancers trooped in and tossed sweets to the guests. Azrael took a seat on the stage beside her as a table was arranged in front of them and Zahra excused herself.
‘Zahra’s been a wonderful help,’ Molly confided. ‘Explaining everything, translating for me. I didn’t make any mistakes.’
‘Everything at an occasion like this is new to you. Don’t worry about making mistakes,’ Azrael responded quietly.
A veritable feast of food was brought to them and Molly ate sparingly, too conscious of being the centre of attention to relax, but as the evening wore on and she watched Azrael take part in an astonishingly acrobatic traditional dance with actual swords her tension gradually ebbed because all around her people were happy and obviously having a good time. Every so often Zahra would approach her and bring people for her to meet, and the emeralds that still glowed round her neck were complimented many times and clearly a highly recognisable symbol of Djalian royalty that the guests liked to see on display.
They left the continuing festivities in the helicopter. ‘Where are we going?’ she asked Azrael.
‘You’ll see,’ he parried. ‘I hope I have made the right choice. Butrus thought I was crazy. The normal option would have been to remain in the encampment for the night.’
But Molly was grateful for any choice that took them away from the noisy partying and the almost suffocating attention of so many people. Privacy, she appreciated, was a gift Azrael rarely enjoyed and it would be the same for her because the local media would publish their wedding photos. At the same time, now that the cameras and the audience were gone, how would they be together and how would Azrael behave?
Azrael lifted her out of the helicopter because she was struggling in her capacious layers of brocade and silk and very much looking forward to changing into something more comfortable and shedding the heavy jewellery. In the darkness she couldn’t see where they were. All she could see was an actual burning torch flaring against a wall.
‘Where are we?’ she asked because she could still see no artificial light and it was very quiet. As she drew closer to the torch she saw that the wall was a rock rather than an artificial creation and her brow furrowed in confusion.
‘It is a surprise. The helicopter will pick us up again in the morning.’ Azrael hesitated. ‘I brought you back to the cave for the night...’
A cave? The cave? Molly hinged her dropped jaw shut again, grateful for the darkness. ‘Wow,’ she said chirpily as if it were the best news she had ever heard, because she was not stupid, after all.
If Azrael was taking her back to the cave for their wedding night it was because he believed that was romantic and, since he was far too practical to be what she would have deemed a natural romantic, it signified a feat of imagination and effort on his part that she had to admire...even if she hated it.
‘The stars are beautiful and the moon is full,’ Azrael pointed out with pronounced determination as they trudged across the sand by the light of his cell phone.
My goodness, he’s trying—he’s trying so hard to make this special and you are an ungrateful cow, Molly scolded herself furiously. But to be fair, he had wrong-footed her because she had been planning to tell Azrael that she thought it would be wisest if they stopped having sex until they had both decided where their marriage was heading. Why? Because sex with Azrael killed her brain cells, she thought wildly, knowing there was no way she could drop the sex ban on him when he’d gone to the extreme lengths of taking her to a cave for the night. I mean, how lucky am I to be the woman who gets to spend another night in the cave?