Aarif’s eyes were on the distant, shimmering sea, his gaze hooded and thoughtful. At that moment he hardly seemed aware of her existence.
Kalila lay a hand on his sleeve, yet he seemed unaware of her touch. ‘Aarif, what are you thinking?’
He turned to her slowly, his expression still distant, as if he had yet to wake from the snarl of a dream, or perhaps a memory. ‘I was thinking about the sea,’ he said after a moment. ‘It is so peaceful now, a thing of beauty. And yet it can be so treacherous.’
Despite the warmth of the sun on her shoulders, the gentle maritime breeze teasing her hair away from her face, Kalila wanted to shiver. She did not know what held Aarif in its terrible thrall, yet she sensed it had come to grips with him again.
‘The hour is late,’ Aarif said abruptly, draining his glass. ‘We should return to the palace before people wonder where we are.’
Kalila followed him from the café, the waiter bowing and murmuring thanks behind them. Back in the Jeep, they drove back along the coast road in silence, and as the daylight faded into dusk so, Kalila thought, did that easy, companionable silence she hadn’t even realised she’d been cherishing.
She suppressed a sigh, and then turned in surprise when just a mile or two from the palace Aarif pulled off the road onto a lonely stretch of beach.
‘What…?’
‘I want to show you something,’ he said, his voice strangely brusque, and Kalila followed him across the rocky, uneven ground. The sun had faded, leaving only livid purple streaks across the sky and long shadows on the sand.
Aarif walked to within a few feet of the sea, which lapped against the sand with a soft, shushing sound. He gazed out at the sea, his hands thrust deep in his pockets, while Kalila waited behind him, conscious of the now-cool breeze that ruffled her hair and set goosebumps rising along her bare arms.
‘I haven’t come to this little beach in a while,’ Aarif said after a long moment. He turned around, and in the shadowy darkness Kalila saw that he was smiling, although it didn’t feel like a smile, and she didn’t relax.
Aarif came and sat down on the sand, his elbows resting on his knees. Kalila sat next to him. The sand was cold and hard, and she waited, the only sound the continual lapping of the waves against the shore.
‘Sometimes,’ Aarif said quietly, ‘I feel that my whole life has been bound up in a single moment. Here.’ He raised one hand to gesture to the darkening beach before letting it fall once again. ‘Everything has been held hostage to what happened here.’ He shook his head, and Kalila waited, apprehension seeping through her with the chilling sand. ‘When I was fifteen,’ Aarif finally continued, ‘my brother Kaliq and I decided we wanted a little adventure. We were bored, I suppose, and restless.’ He paused, and Kalila wondered if he meant to go on. She could barely see him now, even though he was next to her. Darkness was falling fast. ‘We built a raft,’ Aarif continued finally. ‘Out of driftwood and some rope. It wasn’t a particularly handsome craft, but it did the job.’ He shook his head, lost once more in memories, and Kalila was left groping in a darkness that had nothing to do with the setting sun. Why was Aarif telling her this now? Was this—an innocent, boyish adventure—the dark memory that snared his dreams and even his desires? She couldn’t understand, and she wanted to.
‘I don’t know what might have happened,’ Aarif said slowly, ‘if Zafir hadn’t found us out. He was my little brother, six years old, and he insisted that he come along with us.’ Kalila heard the was, and felt another, deeper chill of apprehension. ‘I said he could. You see, I was in charge. I always had been. Kaliq and I might be twins, but I was born first and those eight minutes have made all the difference. I’ve never forgotten that it was my responsibility to look after the younger ones, and especially little Zafir, the apple of my father’s eye. There wasn’t a soul alive who couldn’t love him.’ Aarif’s voice took on a ragged edge and he turned his head away from Kalila, tension radiating from every taut line of his body.
She raised her hand, wanting to touch him, to take away some of his pain she felt like a physical thing, but he flinched, and she dropped her hand again.
‘That raft took us out to sea,’ he continued, his voice toneless now. ‘We had no idea what we were doing, and before we could even credit it we were over a mile from shore. Then we saw a ship in the distance, and we thought it was our salvation. We flagged it down—took off our shirts and waved them. The ship came closer, and even then we didn’t realise…’
‘Realise what?’ Kalila whispered.
‘Diamond smugglers,’ Aarif said. ‘Modern-day pirates. Perhaps they would have left us alone but Zafir—little Zafir—told them we were the sons of the King of Calista and they would be rewarded for rescuing us.’ He smiled bitterly. ‘Well, they exchanged reward for ransom, and took us aboard.’
‘Oh, Aarif—’
‘They took us to a deserted island, one of the many scattered around here, and tied us up like animals. I’d never seen Zafir looking so…so bewildered. He’d only encountered goodness in his life, love and warmth, and now this…! At six years old. Those men were fiends. Demons.’
Kalila shook her head, unable to even imagine the terror and helplessness they all must have felt.
‘After a few days,’ Aarif resumed, ‘Zafir loosened his ropes. He managed to untie us both—he was so brave! When our captors were busy—drunk, most like—we tried to escape.’ Even in the dusky half-light Kalila could see the bleakness in his eyes, and she felt it in her own soul.
‘And?’ she whispered, for she knew the story did not end there.
‘And we almost made it,’ Aarif said. ‘We made it back to the raft—they’d left it on the shore, most likely to use for firewood. Then…’ he took a breath and let it out slowly. ‘They saw us leaving, and they knew if we escaped, they were all dead men. My father would see to it. They had nothing to lose, and so they began shooting. One bullet hit me—little more than a graze, but I fell into the water.’ His hand went to touch the scar on his face, although Kalila doubted he was aware of the action. ‘I couldn’t see for the blood, but I could hear. I heard Kaliq fall in the water too, and Zafir…Zafir…’ He broke off with an almost-shudder. A full minute passed and a cold breeze blew off the water. When Aarif spoke again, it was in that terrible, toneless voice that made Kalila want to both weep and shiver. ‘The smugglers dragged both Kaliq and me back to shore. But Zafir was lost on the raft. The last thing I saw was him on the horizon, nothing more than a speck. And I heard him…’ His voice choked before he continued. ‘I always hear him, asking me to help him. Save him. Me. He looked to me…and I failed him. I did nothing.’ He shook his head, lost in the terrible tangle of his own thoughts.
‘What happened then?’ Kalila asked eventually, for, although all she wanted to do was put her arms around Aarif and smooth the furrows from his forehead, kiss and comfort his pain and sorrow away, she knew the tale had not ended.
‘The smugglers took us prisoner. They were furious—and desperate. They took that out on us, but nothing, nothing seemed to matter any more.’ Kalila remembered the scars on his back, and knew just what Aarif meant. ‘My father paid the ransom, and we were returned. The smugglers were brought to justice, though they sought to escape it. But—’ he drew in a breath ‘—we never saw Zafir again. Not even a trace.’
Kalila swallowed, her eyes stinging. ‘I’m so sorry, Aarif.’
‘I don’t speak of it,’ he told her. He turned his head so he was facing her, his eyes dark and determined. Kalila felt a quiver of apprehension ripple through her. ‘None of us wish to remember. My father—and even my stepmother—were never the same again after we lost Zafir. It was as if all of our lives had lost an easy joy, and we were never to know it again.’
‘It must have been—’
‘I’m telling you now,’ Aarif cut her off, ‘because I want you to understand. When I told my father I would look after Zafir that day, I took it as an oath. A sacred duty, and I failed in the most horrific, spectacular way that I could.’
‘But it wasn’t your—’
Aarif held up a hand, and the sharp movement silenced her as if he’d put that hand over her mouth. ‘I failed, and I shall never forget that I failed. It is a burden I carry to this day, and I shall carry it until I die. But I have alleviated its weight and pain by striving to never fail so again. I devoted my life to my family and this island, and the business of diamonds so that men such as the ones who kidnapped us might not profit and sail freely as they did that day. I honour Zakari as my brother and my king, and now that my father is dead my duty is—always—to him.’ He paused, and Kalila knew this was what she did not want to hear. ‘No matter what sacrifices I must make, or what pain it causes me.’
Her throat was tight, too tight, so it hurt to swallow. ‘Are you talking about me?’ she asked finally, her voice no more than a strangled whisper.