Chapter Twenty-Three
FOR MY BIGGEST FAN
LYRIC
T he sun has been brutal all day. Looking up from my notebook I watch my little on run and stumble on his strong little legs though the water sprinklers and toys place along the garden. His skin glistens with the sunscreen slathered over every inch of his sturdy little body.
High pitch giggles reach me from when I sit and watch him. I dredged up every ounce of energy I have to be here, present with him. Watching him brings me so much joy. I can’t help smiling at his antics.
The weather is warming to where Ayaan can only enjoy himself in the late afternoon, which makes for later bedtimes. We’ve been back almost a month. Things have been good. Almost too good and serene.
Hassan, Ayaan and I have slipped into blissful domesticity. Hassan works for the kingdom all day, coming home in time to either have dinner with us or put Ayaan to bed. Then we bathe and make love until we fall apart in exhausted bliss.
The only thing is — I don’t trust it. I trust him. He’s more than proven himself as well as driving home the point nightly. Still, I don’t want to allow myself to hope we can be happy like this forever. I’m scared to even think there is a possibility of me having a life where I have a soft place to fall or someone other than me or FADE to count on like I’ve had, since I was a seventeen-year-old girl faced with the impossible choice of keeping baby I didn’t want or take a chance that was never going to come my way again.
A figure emerges from the dense thicket of garden wall, almost making me think she’s a mirage. Khadijah.
I sit higher. She must be visiting Amani, who’s come home for a lengthy visit from Sophia University in Japan. It’s wild to think that in these few short months, me and this girl have switched places.
Watching as she nervously approaches, I have to admire the way she deftly dodges the water spray Ayaan’s playing in. She giggles, waving to him. He stops as if spellbound before racing over to her, water clinging from every part of his body.
Before I can call out to stop him, he’s barreling into her legs, his sopping wet curls drenching her skirts.
“Dija.” He giggles, hugging her legs. My ears perk up hearing the nickname he has for her. Since when has my son formed a bond with this woman?
Bending, she ruffles his spiky curls. “Hi, my little guy.” She coos.
What is going on here? Confusion and apprehension slithering down my spine. I’d not thought Khadijah had been back at the palace since the day I saw her hugging Hassan. Obviously, I’m wrong.
Amani has been here off and on. Though through this tumultuous so-called honeymoon phase of our marriage, the family has largely left Hassan, Ayaan and me to our own devices, except for the outreach to the earthquake survivors.
A smile plays across her lips as she disengages from Ayaan, continuing towards me.
Trying to keep the question from playing across my face, I rise to greet my husband’s ex-fiancée.
“Khadijah, you arrived in time to distract me from the boredom of the day.” I say, with the practiced aplomb gained from the hours of lessons from the palace protocol secretary has driven into me.
“I know I’m intruding, High Consort, but I wanted to speak to you while I had the chance.” The hope shining in her eyes is unsettling. I’m reminded then she’s a self described superfan of the Empress. I wonder briefly if that’s why she’s here.
“No worries.” Waving toward the seat opposite me, I sit. Another wave of exhaustion hits me just then. I sink down on the sofa with all the grace of a newborn fawn.
“I’m sorry to hear of all the trouble you’ve had to endure lately.” She apologizes, her sincerity breaking through the posh facade.
“That’s very sweet of you.” Giving her a gentle smile that I actually mean, despite my distrust, I get to the point of her visit,“Is that why you snuck away to see me?” my mouth quirks up.
Her smile is disarmingly genuine. Taking a deep inhale as if to gather her courage, she forges on. “I don’t know if Hassan mentioned how much I love you.” Her hands grasp tightly together as she leans forward with her admission. Her eyes shine with unmitigated joy. I think it’s just being close to me. I’ve seen it before.
My nod barely registers before she plunges into her requests. “I love Hassan very much — but like a brother. I knew what was expected. Marrying him was drilled into me from the moment I could understand what a boy was.” She smiles sadly. “I was going to do my duty, but when I went to school, I met someone and we became friends because that is all we could ever be until you and Hassan were blessed with sweet Ayaan.” She looks down for a moment, then back up, tears in her eyes. “It was the best possible thing that could ever happen to Deacon and me.” She blushes so prettily I can’t help but smile.
“Deacon Shipmoore?” I ask, wondering if she means Prosper’s younger brother.
“Yes.” She nearly swoons. “He’s amazing. My parents approve — well, Umm does. Which is why I wanted to ask a huge favor…” Hope shines through as she hedges to ask the question burning inside of her to get out.
“I’d love to sing at your wedding.” I love my fans, regardless of whether they are billionaire heiresses.
A pretty blush flushes her cheeks. Tears brim and spill over her eyes. “This is amazing. It’s a dream come true.”
I give her a moment to get herself together, then lean in all business. “I don’t require compensation because you are like a sister to Hassan, Sadiq and Amani, and Ayaan adores you.” Though I will be speaking to my husband as soon as he gets home to find out how that happened. I need to know everyone my baby comes into contact with. Hell, I was just poisoned and attacked twice, being around these damn people.
“Of course I’m happy to do whatever you need.” She charges ahead with an enthusiastic grace.
“That’s lovely,” and it was. Anyone would find it hard not to like this young woman. “However, it’s your father’s help the kingdom needs. Hassan mentioned he needs his construction teams out in the field helping to rebuild and refortifying the cities affected by the earthquake and Jhori was not amenable to the terms.” A flush of embarrassment rides high on her cheeks, so much so that soon her entire face is red beneath her light almond complexion.
“Khadijah?” Both our heads snap around to Amani sweeping into the garden from my suite of all places, concern etched on her face as her gaze sweeps over us. Her jade gaze, similar to her brothers, alights on me, barely suppressed anger registers before she can and smother it with a practiced public face.
She’s been nothing but polite, but it’s not lost on me she’s just as upset about the cancellation of her bestie’s marriage now as when it was first called off. Right now, it seems even more so.
“Mani!” Ayaan all but screams, racing over to my sister-in-law like she’s a long-lost friend.
Just as he reaches her, arms outstretched, he stumbles. My heart jumps. I lunge forward though I’d never make it in time, his name ripping from my lips, “Ayaan—” like he’s the first baby in creation to fall.
Amani’s quicker on her feet than one would think a pampered princess could ever be.
Sweeping his soggy form into her body. “Hey little man,” she coos, burying her head in his curls. “Amma missed you.”
He allows this all of a two minutes, which is an eternity in toddler time before squirming to be free. Which has her bursting out in s little chuckle before setting him back on his sturdy feet.
“Marharba.” I keep standing to welcome her. When she approaches, I kiss both cheeks, gesturing for her to sit with us.
“Ahawat.” Nodding to us, she greets us both as her sisters. She looks at the tea service. That silent communication is all it takes for an attendant to emerge with a new tray with fresh tea and refreshments.
The gentle smells wafting up around us should be comforting, but a strange queasiness assails me. Swallowing back the saliva filling mouth, I attempt to focus on the beautiful women before me.
They look like beautiful butterflies in light pastels flowing dresses. I can tell they were raised to be princesses. They are comfortable in the skin they are in. I made myself into an empress and I’m just as comfortable. I know I earned the place I have in this world. The fact I feel right at home among royalty isn’t lost on me.
“How are you today, Lyric?” Her quizzical expression rests on me as if she thought I asked for this meeting. “I was wondering where you got off to. I go to chat with Kenji and the next thing I know you’re gone, like you have an assignation.” She pins us both with hard scrutiny. I can’t help but notice how much she looks like her brothers.
“And how is Kenji? Is he going to work with his cousins in the US or stay in Tokyo?” I ask about her fiancé giving Khadijah time to form a response if she even wants to give one.
“As Allah would have it, Kenji will stand up a Takeda Industries start up here. Babba and Umm are very amenable and Hassan has agreed it is a great opportunity to extend the tech industry to Morocco.” She beams with elation.
“That’s amazing.” I say, taking the Moroccan mint tea, adding a hint of sugared ginger to settle my tummy.
“Shukran lake.” Giving me, brief smile she turns to her bestie. “What’s going on?”
“I-I asked Lyric to sing at my wedding,” Khadijah rushes out.
“I told you —” Shaking her head, she looks between us, her mouth pressed into a firm line of disapproval. “Hassan will not be pleased.”
“He’ll be okay. This is my decision.” I cut in. So much of my autonomy has been striped from me. If I can get more of it back by singing for Khadijah, then I’m going to take it.
“He’s not going to like it,” Amani advises.
“Let me worry about that.” I say with more confidence than I feel. “Here, have some petite fours.” I hold out the tray to them with a determined smile.
“I see you are determined to keep putting your life in danger.” The deep baritone has me looking up over the book I’m reading.
“Who told you, Amani?” I snap the dark academia set at spooky college Savanah away with a snap, ready to go to her rooms and give her a piece of my mind.
“Did she tell you she’s been sneaking Ayaan out of his rooms to play when she comes home?” I ask, taking a sip of the tea that seems very symbolic of all the gossip spreading around this messy ass palace.
“No, and she wasn’t the one to tell me. I have spies everywhere. Mainly to protect you and Ayaan, but they also inform me of potential threats.” Striding over to my side of the bed, he sits beside me, taking my hand, since I put the tea down at this stunning revelation.
“How long have you had people watching me?” I ask.
He looks at me for a long moment, then sighs, ripping his hands through his dense curls. “Since the attack by Asif. I wanted to respect your privacy but that went out the window after the poisoning. Now, there are guards posted at key points since people think they can take you from me — for your safety.” He lets that last part dangle there as a mark against Nikko Savalle, which he thinks is still unresolved.
“If you expect this to work, you have to include me on things — High Consort or not.” My words are soft, but my stare is hard. “The position you put me naming me High Consort has had far-reaching consequences. I don’t know how you can’t see it.” I’m so dang proud of myself for not screaming my frustration into his beautifully cruel face.
The moments that follow are tense. I ready myself for the anger and threats.
“I fucked up.” The words seem ripped from him. Somber jade eyes meet mine as he laces his fingers through mine in a strong, unyielding grip.
“I lost my mind when I found out about Ayaan. All I thought about was punishing you. Then I became obsessed with keeping you. Knowing you don’t need me, I took your choice — because I could. It was the move of a fucking coward, not the man you or our son deserve. Still, I’ll not lie and say that I won’t do everything in my power to keep you. I can’t fucking breathe without you. All I can promise is to earn my place by your side.”
Bending his head, he presses a soft kiss to the back of my hand. Raising his eyes to meet mine, he slowly turns my hand, exposing my palm. Gaze never leaving mine he presses a warm kiss to the center of my palm. Everything intimate seizes within me at the sign of devotion, admiration.
“Hibibti, will you be my Queen Consort?”
In that moment, the lyrics of the song I never got to sing to him, flood through me.”
The words resonate in every fiber of me when I whisper. “Yes.”
The words resound when I take him inside of me and he whispers those words over me again and again. I know he means them with every fiber of my being.
The words crash around me as he takes me to paradise and we transcend even that.
The words cloak me when he holds me and whispers his promise of life time again, “You are mine and I respect you, I will value you, love only you, I will be tender to you.”
Cupping is face I say back to him, “You are mine, Hassan, I will respect you, I will value you, love only you and I will be tender to you.”
His hand covers mine. “I never imagined I’d find the one who spoke to my heart.”