The Last Prince of Dahaar(52)
Maybe it was the man who took the effort to explain it, or maybe she was seeing the same world, the same traditions and customs without prejudiced lenses.
She shook her head, and had the satisfaction of seeing the mockery in his face relent.
“No, I didn’t like being unveiled as if I were something incapable of independent thinking, nor do I like being thought of as your possession, even if it is the most respected one. But neither am I ready to run.”
“Why agree to it at all?” His gaze rested on her, curious. “The veil, this ceremony, everything. And don’t tell me they forced you. You have no reason to indulge these people. I have seen you in action, Zohra. You are every inch the princess when you wish to be. I am surprised you didn’t turn up here in jeans and T-shirt just to thumb your nose at it.”
“So little faith in your wife, Ayaan? However shall we get through the next half century in each other’s company?”
His mouth tightened again. “Do not challenge me. Your actions in the past decade speak for you.”
“I did resent it. But then I thought of you...” A blaze of heat sparked in his eyes immediately, and she hastened to add, “of your mother and father, of everything your family has lost to protect the tribes’ way of living, their independence. And I realized, whether or not I added to your family’s name and glory, whether or not I ended up as a minor deviation in your family tree, I wanted to do nothing to lessen it. So I gave in. And I am also realizing that it hasn’t made my own beliefs any less.”
He stared at her without blinking, and she felt a hot flare of satisfaction that she had surprised him. But it didn’t last long, because a truth far more chilling than that suddenly clicked into place in her mind.
“That was why your lives had been sacrificed, wasn’t it?” she said, her words loaded with a shiver, with pain she couldn’t expel.
His answer was to turn into a block of ice next to her.
She clutched his hand and just as she had guessed, it was ice-cold, rigid. “I read about the history of your tribes but until now, I didn’t realize. That’s why the terrorists captured you and your brother and your sister.
“They wanted control over the tribes, didn’t they? They took you from this very place five years ago and held you hostage? That’s why you—”
“Yes,” came his gritted answer and even now, she was sure it was only to stop her from probing further.
A knot clawed up her throat, and tears stung her eyes. And this time, she couldn’t stem them. She didn’t even try. “And your father refused?” She posed it as a question but she already knew. In her heart of hearts, she knew what this life was, she thought she had made peace with it ten days ago, accepted it as her reality.
But the truth about Ayaan’s capture hit her like an invisible blow. Her chest was so tight it hurt to breathe.
Her father had walked away from her mother and her. Ayaan’s father had gone an extra step in the name of duty. He had refused to negotiate with a terrorist group, instead he had chosen to forfeit his sons’ and daughter’s lives.
Two had been killed, and one tortured to madness. But he hadn’t bent.
She shivered uncontrollably, and Ayaan’s hands wrapped around her shoulders, the heat from his embrace almost, but not quite, enough to thaw the chill in her blood.
“My father did his duty, Zohra. And if the same circumstances came to pass again and it was our child, the very same child who would be the product of the life you are so eager for, that was held hostage, I would be forced to do the same, too. I would probably go mad, take that final leap into darkness while doing it, but I would still do it.”