After finishing their meals, Jibril turned a quick corner, darting up a set of ancient-looking steps two at a time. Audrey followed, out of breath by the time she reached the top and yet gazing with shock at what seemed like an ancient palace complete with colorful pillars lining the sides and massive, painted doors, which were carved with intricate patterns.
“What is this place?” she whispered, trying to read a sign that hung like a tapestry between two of the pillars.
“It’s my grandfather’s old palace,” Jibril said. “Years and years and years ago, when I was a child, it was abandoned, and Ammar and I would come here after school and wander the hallways alone, making it into a kind of clubhouse. But now it’s been reappropriated by the city. It’s a museum about the history of Ash-Kahlbi.”
“It’s gorgeous,” Audrey murmured, bringing her palm up to feel the smooth, circular pillar made of stone. “It seems impossible that humans used to make places like this without modern technology.”
“Let’s go in,” Jibril said, his eyes glittering. “I haven’t been in here in ages. And I want to see my city’s history with your eyes.”
Audrey followed, watching as he opened the thick entrance doors with a huff. Inside, he flashed a smile at the security guard and ticket salesperson, who both bowed their heads in honor, recognizing him as the ruling Sheikh’s son.
“We’ll just peek around if that’s all right,” Jibril said to them, speaking in English. “I’ve brought an American to experience our history.”
“Welcome,” the ticket seller said, her large cheeks squishing with a smile. “We hope you love it the way we do.”
Audrey and Jibril wandered the long hallways, diving from one century to the next, Jibril pointing out several ancient artifacts and explaining their purposes: swords, tapestries, old goblets—the list went on and on, with Audrey asking countless questions. Never having been outside the boundaries of North America, she was fascinated with the sheer age of everything.
“America is just—what, a few hundred years old?” she said, amazed. “But so much has come before us. And you’re related to most of the people who owned these things?”
“They think so,” Jibril said. “My relatives certainly grew up in this palace. Until my grandfather, of course. My grandfather—he’s a rather interesting man, someone I kind of idealize if I’m being honest.”
“What was he like?” Audrey asked, walking alongside her boss. She felt an emotional link with him, as if their hearts beat together in time, their brains on the same wavelength.
“His name was Sheikh Kassim,” Jibril said. “And when he was a baby, his parents arranged for him to marry a woman from another kingdom when they both reached the appropriate age. Back then, arranged marriages were unquestioned. It was just the way to join kingdoms, the way to make treaties.”
“Not even that long ago,” Audrey whispered, intrigued.
“No. But my grandfather was a modern man, perhaps like myself,” Jibril said. “He saw a woman in the garden one afternoon when he was seventeen years old, and he said he fell in love with her immediately. He said ‘when I saw her face, nothing else mattered.’”
“That’s beautiful,” Audrey said.
“It was, until my grandfather had to try to get her to talk to him. She knew about the arranged marriage, and she was nervous, not wanting to enrage his father, the acting sheikh at the time. But eventually, my grandfather convinced her to meet up, and he kissed her. That was when she knew it was real, too.”
“Sounds like Romeo and Juliet,” Audrey said.
“Kind of. They eventually eloped mere days before my grandfather was meant to marry that other woman. My great-grandfather was furious, but something extraordinary happened when the people of Ash-Kahlbi found out about it. They loved his honesty, his kindness, and his bravery in pursuit of his true love, and thus, his father and the rest of the royal family had to forgive him, lest they be hated by the public. And of course, they grew to love my grandmother very much. it was impossible not to. She was a sweetheart and drop-dead gorgeous.”
Audrey stopped, peering up at the Sheikh as if she were seeing him with fresh eyes. Her lips parted as her attraction for Jibril mounted. “That’s a gorgeous story,” she whispered. “Your grandfather changed the course of your country’s history.”
“You could say that, I suppose,” Jibril said, gesturing toward the wall. A dramatic, royal-looking portrait of a middle-aged man with the same deep-colored skin, dark eyes, and fine-cut jawline as Jibril peered down at them, giving Audrey chills. “This is my grandfather, Sheikh Kassim, the man who gave up on everything else just to fall in love. For whatever reason, love was always enough for him.”