The Sheikh's Forbidden Virgin(32)

False. It was all going to be false.

The minutes ticked by in agonising slowness. Juhanah stood by the door, stout and grim-faced. Kalila was grateful that they were alone, at least; the other women had taken their seats as guests. She couldn’t have borne any more chatter or gossip, winks or sly looks. It was all meant in fun, she knew, but it made her feel sick.

‘What’s taking so long?’ she cried out in frustration after a quarter of an hour had gone by. It was past time for the ceremony to begin, and by now she just wanted it to be over.

‘I don’t know,’ Juhanah said. She opened the door and poked her head out. ‘I can’t see anyone—’

‘I’ll go, then,’ Kalila said. She felt frantic from the inactivity, the endless waiting.

‘No! You cannot be seen.’

‘I don’t care—’

‘Propriety, Kalila, is important now,’ Juhanah said sharply. ‘I’ll go.’

Juhanah slipped out, and Kalila let out a sigh of frustration, pacing the small room like a caged animal, needing to be free.

She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror, and for a moment she stopped and stared. Her face was pale beneath the make-up, her eyes wide. Yet the dress was beautiful, her mother’s gown, a dress made for a woman in love.

And I had love, Kalila realised with a pang of surprise. She knew what it was like to love and be loved, no matter for how short a time, and that was a wonderful gift. A blessing. She would cling to it for the rest of her life, knowing that Aarif had loved her.

It would have to be enough. It would be enough, she vowed, to see her through this day at least.

Juhanah returned, her eyes clouded with anxiety, her lower lip pulled between her teeth. ‘I don’t know what is going on,’ she said in a low voice. ‘There has been some delay…’

‘Delay?’ Kalila repeated, and heard her voice rise in fear. ‘What? Why?’

Juhanah shook her head. ‘I don’t know. Your father—King Bahir—has been called out of the ceremony. Perhaps King Zakari wishes to discuss…’

‘No.’ Kalila pressed a fist to her lips. Had Aarif told, and Zakari was furious? Was she going to be shamed in front of everyone, and not just her, but Aarif too? Her heart ached for him, having already endured so much, to suffer this as well.

And yet it could provide freedom, if Zakari refused to go through with the marriage. A pointless freedom, useless without Aarif.

Just as that thought was unfurling within her a sharp knock sounded on the door, and Juhanah conversed rapidly with a servant. She turned back to Kalila, her expression resolute yet still filled with apprehension. ‘It is time.’

Time. There had been so much time, and now there was none. Now it was mere minutes—seconds—before she came face to face with Zakari, without ever having spoken to him even, and pledged her life. Said her vows.

Kalila walked down the palace corridor, heard the rustle of her gown on the stone floor, felt the relentless drumming of her heart. Her hands were cold and damp and she resisted the impulse to wipe them on the sides of her gown.

Ahead of her the reception hall loomed, its wide doors thrown open, garlanded with lilies.

Kalila moved to stand on the threshold and saw a sea of faces turn expectantly to face her. Her gaze went past the rows of guests to the man standing at the end of the aisle, tall and broad-shouldered, with short, dark hair like Aarif’s, his back to her.

Kalila swallowed and she felt Juhanah give her a little nudge in the small of her back. Her legs felt as if they were made of cotton wool, and her vision swam.

Think of Aarif. Think of his love.

She could do this.

She had to.

Slowly she made herself move. One foot in front of the other. The crowd had fallen to a hush, and Kalila saw people smiling. She tried to smile back, but the smile trembled on her lips and slipped right off. She was so close to tears; she felt them at the backs of her lids, in her throat…

She swallowed them down, blinked them back, and moved on.

The aisle was endless. The papery rustling of the stiff folds of her gown was loud in her ears, loud in the expectant hush of that room. She wished Zakari would turn around, so she could see the expression on his face, except perhaps she didn’t want to. Perhaps that would be worse.

Another step, and then another—she was almost there.

And then he did turn around, and Kalila nearly stumbled, the room and its hundreds of guests swimming before her eyes, for Zakari was not standing there at all.

Aarif was.

Kalila was dimly conscious of the ripple of speculative murmurs through the crowd, but it was nothing compared to the shock vibrating through her whole being. She stood there, rooted to the spot, her mind unable to catch up, wondering if it was some kind of trick…

Aarif was close enough to touch, and he reached out and curled his hand around her elbow, steadying her, bringing her closer.

When she was close enough so that she alone could hear him speak, he whispered, ‘Do you still want me?’

Kalila stared at him, saw the need and hope and love in his eyes, and could only nod. The tears were close again.

‘Kalila?’ Aarif demanded, his voice still pitched low, and she knew what he needed to hear.

‘I love you.’

He smiled then, and Kalila saw the sheen of tears in his own eyes. ‘And I love you. More than life.’

Aarif handed her a bouquet of flowers, and Kalila’s fingers closed around it automatically. She looked down and saw the delicate, curling petals of a bouquet of irises. Her favourite, just as she’d told Aarif. He’d remembered.

Someone cleared his throat, and Kalila realised there was a man standing next to Aarif, also tall and broad-shouldered, smiling faintly. Zakari.

She smiled back, feeling strange, light-headed, and yet absurdly, wonderfully happy, and the ceremony began.

Kalila was barely conscious of the words being spoken, the vows being said. Her mind was still thrumming with awareness of Aarif, the realisation that she was actually marrying him.

It wasn’t until the ceremony was over, and they were walking back down the aisle, that she realised this was real. He was real.

Out in the corridor, she turned to him, breathless. ‘Tell me—’

‘Later.’ Aarif pulled her into his arms and kissed her, a kiss that had no secrecy or danger or shame, only love, as pure and brilliant as the finest diamond.

Kalila surrendered herself to the kiss, to the love that flowed between them and through her veins, bubbling up into wondrous joy.

Finally she pulled away, laughing, her hair starting to come undone from its artful cluster in curly tendrils. ‘Tell me,’ she commanded, ‘how you came to be standing there instead of your brother.’

Light danced in Aarif’s eyes. ‘Are you glad?’

‘You know I am!’

Aarif laughed, and it was a sound Kalila loved to hear. She hadn’t heard it many times before, and certainly not with such joyous unrestraint.

Aarif pulled her away from the guests pouring out of the reception hall, into a quiet antechamber.

His face had turned serious again, his eyes dark. ‘Last night I couldn’t sleep. All I could do was think of everything you’d said to me, every accusation and judgment, and realise they were all true.’

‘Aarif—’ Kalila began, but he held up a hand to stop her.

‘Wait. Let me say this, for God knows I should have said it yesterday, and spared us both a sleepless night.’ He smiled wryly before his expression sobered once more. ‘Kalila, you told me I was trying to balance the scales, and though I’d never thought of that before I realised you were right. That’s exactly what I was doing. For the last twenty-one years I’ve been trying to atone for Zafir’s death, even though no one expected me to. It was something I expected of myself, even though I doomed myself to failure from the start. And happiness—love—they were things I didn’t even dare dream of.’ He shook his head. ‘But it’s amazing how a prison can become safe. Comfortable, even. And the more I withdrew from life, the less appealing the kinds of risks and dangers living create became to me…all without me even realising it. All I could see was that in loving you, I’d betrayed Zakari. And that night we had together—as right as it felt to have you in my arms—was a betrayal, of a kind. But I realised last night that to allow your marriage to Zakari to go forward without even a word of protest was another betrayal. A betrayal of you, and myself, and what we have shared.’

Kalila thought of Aarif striding so resolutely towards the helicopter. ‘So what did you tell Zakari?’

‘I told him what happened between us, and that I loved you. I asked for his forgiveness and said that I wanted to marry you.’

‘He must have been surprised,’ Kalila said weakly, unable to even imagine such a conversation.

‘He was, but he was also happy…for me.’ Aarif shook his head in wonder. ‘My brother is a good man.’ He paused, his expression becoming shadowed. ‘I told him if he still wished to marry you, I would be forced to stand aside. I do not think you would love me if I had not said that.’

‘I know,’ Kalila whispered, her throat aching with unshed tears. ‘I feel the same.’

‘But I also told him that we loved each other, and I would do everything in my power to make you happy and bring honour to both Calista and Zaraq.’