Chapter Thirteen
SHE AIN’T NOTHING BUT GOLD DIGGER?
LYRIC
Trouble at the Palace?
Reports are flooding in that there is trouble in the fragile paradise of His Royal Highness, Prince Hassan, and High Consort, Lyric. Several palace sources make claims of a huge fight the night of the earthquake. How in the midst of this devastation did the couple find time to have a domestic squabble leaves many in dismay. Some say the High Consort was upset about the lack of attention the prince has given her after he did the honorable thing and married her, giving her child the highest of honors, naming him heir. Others claim High Consort Lyric is demanding more trinkets along with properties and even a yacht of her own, calling the one His Royal Majesty the King already owns an antique. Many are tiring of the tactics they say are of a gold digger, or is it the adulation of her millions of fans that she misses?
“Man, fuck them.” Fi hisses, throwing the folded newspaper on the ottoman beside us as we lounge in the garden.
“Don’t let it bother you.” I wave dismissively. “So, how are things with you?” I lift a brow at her, smiling when I see her blush.
“Good, but you should have let me come clean.” She chides, pouring us both a tea.
“He wasn’t in the mood to listen.” I say low, plucking a rose petal from my kaftan. I lift my hand, letting the wind pick it up and take it. Briefly I watch it dance away, a little jealous of its freedom.
“Girl, what did he do? He didn’t —” Her voice sharpens in horror.
“No, nothing like that. I’ve never seen him so mad. Not even when I first got here.” I shake my head, remembering that night a week ago, like it happened just moments before. “Anyway, I haven’t seen him since that night. He’s only in long enough to give Ayaan a kiss, then leaves. Always when I am otherwise occupied.”
“He’s a demented motherfucker,” she hisses. Her vehemence making her beautiful face even more expressive. “We have to get you and Ayaan out of here.”
“I notice you’re leaving yourself out of the equation, friend.” I smirk at her. “Listen, when I’m ready to leave, I’ll let you know. Don’t you do anything else on my behalf. You’ve helped enough.” I dead-eye her, pressing my lips in a hard line to let her know I mean business. “Prosper’s out of commission, anyway.” Lowering my voice so the nosey-Nellys lurking around who are making it their business to make me look like a fucking clown ass gold digger don’t overhear what I have to say. I inform Fi about everything Hassan told me about Prosper’s plight.
“That’s so messed up.” She shakes her head in stunned disbelief. More than a little afraid for our friend.
“I know, so imagine what Hassan will do if I leave or even try to again. He’s all powerful here.” I don’t add that leaving was the last thing on my mind. Now, I’m not so sure, but I know a fruitless cause when I see it. I’m only a consort, not his queen. I have no power outside of this suite of rooms and even then, it’s limited.
“So please chill because all of this is falling back on me.” Reaching out, I squeeze her hand. “I know y’all meant well. Getting caught cost me what little trust he has for me. Now, I’m back to square one.”
“Man, I’m sorry.” She squeezes my hand back, regret doing nothing to mar her pretty face.
Releasing my grip, I grab the cool glass of mint tea and sip it, letting the refreshing taste soothe me.
“Has he come back since that night?” I’m already shaking my head.
“I saw on the news he’s staying close to the sites instead of coming all the way back here.” I leave out the fact that he could take a helicopter home if he wanted to. He doesn’t. Maybe he doesn’t trust himself to be around me. I don’t trust him being around me, either.
That night created a chasm between us I’m not sure can be mended. With our attraction, sex is probably the easiest thing between us. Sex is not a cure at all — especially when trust as fragile as ours is broken.
“It’s fine.” I shiver even though it’s not cold, recalling the pure antipathy of his gaze when he accused me of trying to take Ayaan away from him. “It’s probably more convenient for him. It’s better for him not to waste resources coming home every evening.”
“Umhm.” Pursing her lips in a ‘yeah, right’ kind of way, Fi drinks her mint tea and doesn’t comment further.
“Excuse me, Mistress,” I nod, letting the attendant come forward.
“Her majesty would like to join you and Miss Fi for a brief moment.” Smiling at us both, she retreats because it’s not an ask. The queen does not ask, especially to a lowly consort who everyone knows her son only married out of duress. That is what the people believe, and I’ve seen nothing from the palace’s press office to set the record straight. There has been nothing reiterating that he chose me, though both his parents know he kidnapped and forced me here. Like I get defending your son at all costs, lady, but don’t throw me to the wolves in the process.
It’s with these feeling of animus eating at me I watch the queen approaching us with three attendants at her back. I wonder if it was any of them leaking gossip to the press. I wouldn’t doubt it. The only person loyal to me is the person rising to bow to Hassan’s mom beside me.
I’m much slower to rise for no other reason than to let her know I’m mad.
“Ladies,” she smiles warmly, if not a little sadly, at us both.
“Ma’am.” We both bow, acknowledging her higher status.
“Please sit with us,” I wave to the space across from me as one of her attendants brings over another chair.
“Tea?” I ask after she sits and we do the same, waiting for her to take her seat first.
“Yes, thank you.” As a fresh batch of tea is brought, the silence is so thick you could slice it with a knife.
Finally, when the tea and a tray of sfenj — donuts that I have come to love, chocolate and almond ghriba, along with the same cookies made with cardamon, are placed before us. The queen takes us in for a long moment.
“I’m sorry about how you are being treated by the press.” I quirk a brow at her words and smile, knowing it doesn’t meet my eyes.
“The staff here a loyal to your family.” I began only to be cut off when she raises her hand.
“You are part of this family.” She interjects only to have Fi make a strangled sound, which has both of us looking at her.
“Y’all have a funny way of showing it. Your son kidnapped us then forced Lyric to marry him, only to disrespect her by not giving her the tittle that is hers by right. I know y’all are a little behind on women’s rights over here, but even you know this is not right, ma’am.” Never going to be a diplomat this one, still I’m proud of my friend.
“You are correct, Fi.” The queen acknowledges, then turns to look at me. “It is not my place to tell Hassan what to do. I thought since he chose to bring you into his suites that you all had formed a bond. Word of this altercation never reached His Majesty, The King and I. This is unprecedented — that anyone in the palace would leak our family’s business in this way. We are very sorry and will ferret out the leakers.” Her gaze is unwavering when she gives me her solemn oath. “We are not the British royal family where the Firm works to tear down perceived rivals. No, we Al Rasheeds are family no matter how we came to be.”
It’s not until her words wash over me I realize this is what I have longed for, only it should come from Hassan not his mother.
“I wanted to invite you to come along with me to visit some of those who survived the earth quake. I think it would be good for the people’s morale to have us — the queen and the high consort to visit.”
Not to mention the help to my reputation after taking such PR hit. She doesn’t say it, doesn’t have to. I’ve done enough damage control in my career to know a rehabilitation campaign when I see it. I don’t begrudge her. In fact, I find myself more than little grateful to her.
“I’d be happy to join you. Fi?” I turned to my bestie. “Will you stay with Ayaan while I’m away? Normally, one of us is always here.” She’s already nodding with eagerness before I finish.
“Of course,” she waves with a flourish. “I’ll take care of my nephew, no different than if you were doing a press junket or a charity, event on tour.”
I notice the queen shifts a little uncomfortably at Fi’s reminder of how we were snatched at the start of my tour.” I try to hide the smirk but can’t stop myself from nodding in agreement. One thing my friend is going to do is stand for what’s right.
The realization settles a deep resolve within me. I will have a reckoning with Hassan. I’ve never been a doormat and I’m not going to allow illusions of what could be cloud what actually is. He stole me from life, forced this marriage on me, and then treated me shabbily when things got tough. Sure, people are suffering and instead of allowing me to comfort him he accused me. Not that I could tell him about Fi’s part. That would mean certain death for her, no matter who’s taken a liking to her. I won’t risk her any more than I would any of my other sisters. Because that is what Fi is to me, a sister.
“Jeeze,” I whisper, behind mask the first responders insisted that we use when they briefed us on the way to the site. My gaze snags on greater and greater evidence of the breadth of devastation these poor souls had to endure. The SUV skirts deep pockets of craters and rubble as we go through the city near the epicenter of the earthquake.
The vehicle shakes and rattles as we are taken up a steep assent to a plateau rising high above the city. We approach a citadel that seems to be throwback to medieval Morocco.
As we arrive, we see masses of people in long lines to receive aid and supplies.
The lines wrap around the building. Families are three deep, many carrying all of their possessions or pull them alongside them in carts.
“This is one of the outpost of one of the king’s ancestors long ago.” This fortress was built here because the Bedouins advised General Darrian this plateau would withstand the great quakes when that they came. They have millennia of history within the oral history of the tribes.” The queen informs me as I take in the sheer enormity of what Hassan and the King have brought together to help the people.
Volunteers work unceasingly, passing out everything from water, medical supplies, food. There is even a line of people sitting and eating food that is served.
“I feel like we are going to be in the way of what the first responders are trying to do here.” I tell the queen as the vehicle pulls to a stop in front of a group of tents that have been erected.
Our security teams are already waiting for us. Having been informed of our expected arrival by the palace.
“Oh no, my dear, the people will be glad to have us. We are here to work and I know from every thing my sons, daughter and Khadijah have told me about your work ethic. This little excursion will be nothing to you.” She assures me with a determined glint in her eyes.
I nearly stumble at her words. Not the unfortunate bit mentioning Hassan’s former fiancée, but the part about him speaking about me at all, let alone about how hard I work. Not that it’s not known the world over.
“Is that what won you over?” I quirk a brow at her, knowing full well I’m that last person she wanted for her esteemed son. I know Sadiq giving up his position for Lovie-Belle was a serious blow to the Al Rasheed dynasty, but to have Hassan marry a foreigner — let alone one with my perceived reputation must have been just as devastating. If not more so considering the circumstances.
“You accomplished all that you have on your own, my dear, with the way you love my grandson, son, and, ah — care for my beloved Hassan.” Her eyes are warm and somber as she says this, and I can’t help how uncomfortable and silly they make me feel. I actually thought there was hope for us. But after the other night there is nothing left but crushing disappointment where hope used to lie.
“Ah well, I guess we better get to work.” Plastering a smile on my face, I go face the people waiting for our help.
Time goes by so fast I barely notice the sun is setting until the people en masse all gather to pray.
Moving back a respectful distance, I watch them take their evening prayers listening to the lyrical words of the Imam.
When they finish, the people resume their places in line and the volunteers their work.
I’ve moved from helping pass out sundries to helping with the evening meal since most of the volunteers are also now eating. There is a commotion, then more security pours in with teams of seven.
My heart stutters. Biting my lip, I put on my serene public face, having long since taken off the mask the first responders insisted on when the queen and I saw there was no smoke, debris or dust on the plateau that houses the fortress.
I keep my head down as much as possible as I ladle soup, pass out meat, bread, and vegetables among the plates, hoping I’d be lost among the other volunteers and go unnoticed by the new royal arrivals.
I can tell by the way people’s tones become hushed and they sit or stand straighter that the king and his heir are approaching our area.
The queen stayed with the clothing, medicine and staples, but I moved among the people hours ago, going wherever I was needed.
Glancing up, I see the king walking among the people, patting them on their shoulders, giving them words of encouragement. Hassan is at his side. They don’t see me, and a feeling of relief shrouds me.
Thinking I can step away and get lost before he notices me I turn to Ada the head volunteer in this area to let her know I am leaving when I one of the citizens gestures towards me and the king and Hassan both turn startled eyes my way.
Their expressions couldn’t be different. A huge smile graces the king’s face as he nods in my direction. I smile and dip my own in acknowledgment, training my eyes on the task, knowing I can’t gracefully leave anymore but not before I catch the heard piercing stare of my husband.
I breathe a sigh of relief when neither of them comes in my direction but continue to mingle among the people.
I have no idea how long the queen intends to stay — it’s been hours and though I’d like to tuck Ayaan in I feel a deep sense a purpose being out among the people. It’s also well past his bedtime, so rushing back now won’t do any good.
Time ticks away and I don’t even let way Hassan glowered bother me. I focus on what I came to do — serve.
“Mother, says you haven’t taken a break.” The husky tones reaching my ears cause me to spin so fast I almost drop the sweet bun I was about to pass to a small child.
“Ah, well, time has a way of getting away from you when there is a lot to do.” I smile at the little boy whose arm is in a fresh splint, giving him the dessert.
“I’m good.” Alarm makes my voice thready when I see Hassan rolling up his sleeves and donning gloves to pass out food.
He stares at me for a long moment, his jaw ticking. “I know.” His gaze saying more than he ever will.
My heart twists and just as quickly I shove that emotion — foolish hope deep down into the darkest recesses I can find so I don’t do anything so dumb as believe he’s anything other than the monster he showed me last week.
We work in a companionable silence, serving all the people who want dessert and the deeply aromatic coffee provided from the palace.
“The queen herself oversaw the food provisions.” Ada told me earlier.
After a while, the line dwindles and we stand alone at the serving table.
“Are you ready to leave?” He asks, finally turning to me again, his eyes somber.
“I’ll go find the queen,” I say, moving to slide around him.
“Umm is gone. She worked herself to the bone. Baba took her with him before I came over here.” Dread settles in my tummy. Making a mental note to let Her Majesty know the rule of when we come together, we leave together. I allow her beast of a son to lead me through throngs of people to his awaiting car.
“Did you eat?” Hassan asks after we’ve been underway for a few minutes.
“I did earlier.” Not mentioning it was hours before when I was with Fi. I don’t want him asking after me, pretending he cares. I’ll see after myself the way I’ve always had to. Having learned long ago the people who are supposed to have your back don’t and the people who are supposed to protect you end up hurting you the worse.
A sharp pain twists in my lower left leg. Groaning low, I grab the aching cramp, trying to massage the knot away. Then another cramp pierces my side. Yep, I definitely need to start moving my body more. There is no way a little outing like this should have me bowed over like I’m an octogenarian.
“Here let me.” Hassan reaches for me. My tummy growls and his gaze shoots up to mine.
I rear back like he’s trying to stab me instead of massage me. “I got it.” Concentrating on my leg, trying to apply enough pressure to ease the ache, but it’s dang near impossible when my side is also trying to end me.
“Lyric.” With a tone hard as steel, he pries my leg away from me, settling it on his hard thigh.
Wordless and tense, he works the cramp out of my leg. His hands are so gentle yet firm tears prickle behind my eyelids.
I’m still sitting awkwardly when he finishes. Obviously I must look pitiful because he says, “Come, let me ease you, jameela,” in words so soft and sweet they immediately melt my resolve.
I don’t have to move because he drags me over to him, pulling my body into his lap, cradling me as he soothes the ache in my body.
His gruff promise, “I’ll have someone come and pamper you tomorrow, little wife,” is that last thing I hear before I drift off.