The Last Prince of Dahaar(10)

                He ran his forefinger over his temple, his expression betraying nothing. Her heartbeat ratcheted up. “When I find out that you’re not a virgin?”

                Fierce heat blanketed her, even as shock stung her. Why wasn’t the man throwing a royal fit even now? “When you find out that I was in love with another man, when you find out that I have spent four summers with him in a desert encampment...” She swallowed painfully, just the thought of Faisal slashing pain through her.

                “That is...a valid reason for me to refuse you,” he finally said.

                Zohra felt the most perverse disappointment. He had been unlike anything she had imagined until now.

                “So are you prepared for your father’s reaction when I present him with this...reason?”

                Her gut dropped to her feet. “What do you mean?”

                “I told you. I have no wish to insult your father after everything he has done to stand by mine. You might not feel any duty to your country. But are you so selfish that you would put your father through this? He will not only be shamed by his daughter’s behavior but he will be so in front of an audience.”

                She flinched at the distaste in his words. He hadn’t intended to back out for a second. Her gut churned with a powerless clawing. “I have no wish to weaken my father. I merely gave you the truth.”

                His gaze was filled with a bitterness that cut through her. “Your ‘truth’ is only useful to me if I can quote it to your father’s face. Our fates are sealed no matter what you or I wish, no matter what skeletons we have in our closets.”

                Zohra’s palms turned clammy. He was not backing out. Marrying a stranger, being locked forever into the cage of duty and obligation—the same duty that had ripped her family apart? She would take an uncertain future over that.

                She sought and discarded one idea after the other, panic gripping her tight.

                “Fine,” she said, her mind already jumping ahead. It had been a waste of time to come here. “I have only one choice left then.”

                She turned around, determined to act before the night was up. She couldn’t stay in the palace, in Siyaad for another minute.

                She was about to step over the threshold when a hand on her arm pulled her back. A soft gasp escaped her mouth as she was pushed against the wall with sure movements. The muscles in her arms trembled, her senses becoming hyperaware of every little detail about him.

                Like the strong column of his throat as his chest fell and rose. Like the tingle in her skin where his fingers touched her.

                “I suddenly have great sympathy for your father, Princess. My sister Amira is just as headstrong as you seem to be, but at least, she listens when Azeez or I...”

                A dark shadow fell over his face. He had spoken of his sister as though she was still alive. She shouldn’t care about his pain, but it pierced through her anyway.

                “Your sister? The one who died five years ago?”

                He met her gaze. The pain in it flayed her open. “Yes.” His hands landed on either side of her face. He bent until she could see the light scar over his left eyebrow. Any grief she had seen a moment ago was gone. “Now, tell me what the only choice you have left is.”

                She pushed at him, but he didn’t relent. “I’ve not given you the liberty to touch me, Prince Ayaan, neither to haul me around.”