The music climbed a crescendo and the imam pronounced them man and wife.
She was now Princess Zohra Katherine Naasar Al-Sharif, the future queen of Dahaar.
Cheers and good wishes swept up through the hall. He let it all flow over him, fighting the inimitable weight of it, willing himself to focus on the happiness flowing around.
Hooking her hand through his, he led her down the steps of the dais and toward the area on the right to where the next ritual would take place. She had asked for the ceremonies to be completed the same day.
“What was the reason for this request?” he whispered at her ear, noticing her eyes light up as her brother Wasim hugged her. She said something to him and immediately the young prince of Siyaad cheered up.
It was the only time she fully smiled—when it was her half sister or half brother. For the rest of them, including her father, there was never a smile, at least not one that reached her eyes. Only a distance she clearly projected between her and the outside world.
Pity, because her smile held inexplicable warmth, almost a promise to chase away the shadows from the person she bestowed it on.
She stilled and turned toward him, her hand going to the sheer, gold-colored veil that fluttered from beneath the tiara. He leaned in and tugged it from where it had caught on the tiny crystal on her bodice. His fingers grazed the curve of her breast. She jerked back just as he did.
Her beautiful brown eyes flared. “I have no love for rituals that take three days. This way, my father can return to Siyaad tomorrow morning instead of waiting for another three days and spend energy he doesn’t have on—”
“I thought you didn’t care about your father.”
“I don’t. But it doesn’t mean that I want him to suffer. That would just...”
“Finally break through your stubborn head and show you what an ungrateful daughter you are.”
Zohra came to a sudden halt and stared at the man who was now her husband. They were surrounded from all sides by her father’s family and his own. And yet the scorn that had rattled in his words was just as obvious in his gaze. “Have I done something to upset you, Prince Ayaan?”
“No, Princess,” he said, lingering a second too long on the title. “Just telling the truth as I see it. It seems very few people dare to.”
“And you do?”
“I have taken an oath just now that I would protect you. Even if it has to be from yourself.”
“And of course, being a man, you have all the correct answers without knowing anything about my relationship with my father, right?”
One corner of his mouth turned up in mockery. “Have you noticed how every argument with you comes down to the fact that I am a man and you are not? One would think beneath all this contempt you show for duty and Siyaad, you’re just annoyed that you are not allowed to rule.”
His arrogance rendered her mute for a second. “I have never coveted the crown of Siyaad,” she said, angry with herself for letting him rile her so easily. “All it entails is that you endlessly sacrifice either your or your loved ones’ happiness at its feet.”
“As you are apparently unable or unwilling to see, I will spell it out for you, Princess. It seems your father has given you unfettered freedom while you didn’t even blink at the idea of betraying his trust. A princess of Siyaad, spending her summers in the desert, falling in love, the very life you have led is a testament to it. You’re standing here,” he said, laying his arm so casually against her waist that for a moment she lost track of what he said, “for no other reason than because you think you’re protecting your sister from a horrible fate.”