Part III
A S GOOD AS MALIK AND Kyria got along together, it was not uncommon for the two to have their misunderstandings, and neither ever cared to make any secret of it. More often than not, Kyria’s complaints often revolved around Malik being too strict. Why was she forbidden from visiting this place? Why was she prohibited from doing that? Why, why, why? And as much as she strove to be dutiful and meek, where Malik was concerned her hard-earned composure would sometimes desert her. In her younger years, this had translated to tantrums and locking herself in her room and refusing to eat while Malik was around. Eventually, Kyria outgrew her passive-aggressive tendencies, but this in return was replaced by yelling matches that could be heard throughout the hallways of the palace. Thankfully, these generally lasted for but a short while, to the point that the staff had learned to simply shrug it off and stop panicking every time they heard raised voices coming from Malik’s study.
As for the young sheikh himself, most of his grumblings had to do with Kyria’s quiet but unshakable bid for independence. Why don’t you ask for my help, you fool? Why must you insist on these unnecessary chores, you idiot? Anyone unfamiliar with palace life would have been stunned speechless were they to hear the way Malik raged at his mother’s ward. Of the five Al-Atassi sheikhs, Malik was considered to be the gentlest and most chivalrous, the one with the most reasonable temper. And yet every time Kyria got into trouble, it was as if a beast would come to take possession of the sheikh, and there would be no calming him until Kyria was made to promise never to take this or that risk again.
And so it went, with the palace becoming accustomed to seeing Malik and Kyria have at it like they were at each other’s throats, only to make up in the same day and once again become inseparable as twins. Their fights were crazy but amusing, and the palace was used to it. What neither the royal family nor staff was used to, however, was the two being so obviously at odds with each other – with none of them saying a word about it.
Everyone kept waiting for one or the other to snap – for either Malik to start shouting or Kyria to start crying – but nothing happened. Instead, the two were entirely civil, exchanging nods upon passing each other in the hallway and when either was asked about what happened, Malik would only shrug and Kyria would only smile, neither of them inclined to say a word.
On Malik’s birthday, Vanna hosted a small intimate dinner in their private wing, with only the other four young sheikhs as their guests. She was quietly hoping that this would be the night the two would make up, but instead everyone’s jaws ended up dropping when Malik and Kyria took their seats at opposite ends of the table, as far apart from each other as possible. Vanna did a quick mental tally and almost let out a gasp. This would make it ten days in a row. Ten, dear God! This was the longest those two were at odds, and she wondered uneasily if this was far more serious than she had thought.
As soon as dinner ended, Vanna sent a politely worded summons to her younger son and paced the length of her room while waiting. She waited and waited, and her temper simmered hotter all the while, knowing that Malik was doing this deliberately to let her know that he preferred she mind her own business.
Ha!
Too bad for him, she was his mother, and it was her God-given right to meddle until the day she died.
When Malik finally entered her room, she managed to wait only until the door closed behind him before snapping, “Have you lost your manners that you do not mind making your own mother wait?”
“If I say yes,” he drawled, “will you give me leave so that I may search for my missing manners?”
Vanna threw her son a fuming look. “This is not the time to be funny, Malik.”
But this only made his lips twist in a sardonic smile. “And you think I don’t know this?”
Oh!
Her mouth formed an O of dismayed surprise as she saw the look in his eyes.
“It’s over, Mother.”
“What do you mean?” she whispered, stricken.
“She doesn’t want me,” the sheikh said quietly. “That is all you need to know, and this will be the last time we speak of it.” Malik spun away without another word, the door shutting closed with a thud of such painful finality behind him that it made Vanna jerk.
Outside, Malik strode down the hallway at a brisk, grim pace. He was going to fuck his brains out with the first willing woman he found, and he would keep doing it until he had thrown out every piece of her that was lodged in his heart.
As Malik left the palace in a quest to thoroughly annihilate his feelings, the girl whom he sought to forget was doing the opposite. Curled up in her bed, Kyria allowed her tears to fall under the cover of darkness. She missed Malik, but she felt she had lost the right to be close to him again. His coldness hurt, but more than that, it made her feel ashamed. Almost two weeks had passed and even now she could still vividly recall with humiliating clarity how his touch made her feel.
She shouldn’t have felt such pleasure, but she had. She should have moved away, but she hadn’t. As such, all of this was her fault, and now only one question remained.
What to do about it?
Kyria fell asleep before she could decide on an answer, but unbeknownst to her (and Malik for that matter), the same question was being asked in another part of the castle, where Vanna was currently in a secret meeting with Altair and her nephews.
Should they or should they not interfere?
The five of them weighed the pros and cons, and in the end their verdict was unanimous. Painful as it was to see both Malik and Kyria struggling, this might be the final test that the two needed to overcome. Whatever it was that had them at odds, it might be for the best. Malik had really never allowed himself to see anyone else, and whether Kyria knew this or not, she hadn’t been able to see anyone else beyond Malik either. But things had changed, and now only time would be able to tell if they were truly for each other.
****
T IME HEALED ALL WOUNDS or so they said, but what few ever cared to add was that some wounds could be picky. Some wounds needed a certain time to heal and unfortunately for both Malik and Kyria, that time hadn’t come yet. For the sheikh, his temporary remedy was in devoting himself to his role as minister in the newly formed cabinet of Khalil, now the Emir Sheikh of Ramil. He kept himself as busy as he could, and what free time was left was divided between his breeding business and finding more women to fuck.
For Kyria, her options were more limited as Khalil was still in the process of reversing the kingdom’s outdated laws that tended to heavily police the actions of women. She poured all her time and effort in her studies, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted to be so tired that the moment she’d get in bed, she’d fall asleep and not even have the energy to dream. It wasn’t her favorite thing these days, dreaming, mostly because when she did, it would always be about Malik and that morning.
Shortly after his coronation, the king married Harper Griffiths, an American woman whom Kyria had the pleasure of meeting several times in the past. She liked Harper a lot, and so when the king had asked for her help to secure the queen’s position at court, Kyria hadn’t even thought of hesitating, never mind if the particulars of his request were somewhat odd. For his birthday, he wanted Kyria to mingle with his guests and make more effort than usual to speak her mind. Despite her private misgivings, she did as asked, and the results were exactly as she feared.
One of the foreigners she had talked to started making a scene, and forcing herself to swallow her pride and anger, Kyria had prepared herself to apologize – only to realize she didn’t have to. Harper had suddenly stepped in, defending her just like the queen everyone knew she could be, and it was then Kyria understood that this was all part of Khalil’s plan.
How terrifyingly devious , she had thought back then. Conscience prompted Kyria to tell the truth about the role she played, but the opportunity only came up months later, following Khalil and Harper’s rather controversial separation and subsequent reconciliation. When told the truth, however, Harper had only snorted, saying, “Khalil’s actions may have surprised you, but it’s something I’d totally expect from him. I’ve always known he was a devil.”
“You knew he was a devil,” Kyria had echoed with genuine puzzlement, “and yet you still married him?”
The words, uttered in complete innocence, had made Harper turn red, but when Kyria stammered out an apology, the queen had only waved her words away with a grimace. “It’s okay. You have a point, and to answer your question, yes, I did still marry him despite knowing what a huge jerk he is.” The queen had then made a face. “And I can’t believe I’m saying this but...sometimes, the things that seem so wrong can actually turn out to be the best thing you can ever ask for. All you need to do is give it a chance and see where it goes.”
The words unintentionally struck a chord inside of her, and Kyria found herself mulling over them, wondering what it could mean for her. Could those words also be true for that which she still couldn’t bear to think of?
Even now, there were still nights when that was all she could think of, and making it worse was how her body literally ached at the memories. They were just memories now, and yet her body still heated up like the feel of his hardness against her had been indelible.
She knew what she was feeling was wrong, but she couldn’t seem to stop. Could this really be what Harper talked of? Could this somehow turn into something right and beautiful? The questions were something Kyria had never really hoped to find the answer to. She was too cowardly, too scared to take a risk on anything...or so she thought until life showed her how desperate straits could truly led to desperate measures.
And it all started with a girl named Katerina Chariot.
****
“I WOULD LIKE TO STUDY abroad.” The king and queen were hosting a dinner for the rest of the royal family when Kyria finally mustered the courage to announce her decision, and the reactions to her statement were quite varied.
Altair sputtered over his glass, Vanna dropped her fork, while the king and the other sheikhs had their jaws drop. Malik on the other hand, the queen was quick to note, was conspicuously expressionless, although his hard form had become unnaturally still.
Harper leaned back against her seat. This was going to be interesting. Turning to Kyria, she asked casually, “Do you already have a school in mind?”
“Nothing specifically...” Kyria started playing with the napkin on her lap. “But I was hoping I could be introduced to a different culture at the same time.”
The queen nodded thoughtfully. “That would be fun.” The truth was, Harper had long known about Kyria’s plan. She and the younger girl had become quite close in recent months, with Harper taking on a de facto role as big sister. She felt very protective about Kyria, more so when Khalil’s shy cousin had confided to her about, well...everything.
And oh, how shocked she had been the first time she realized what those things were.
“Christopoulos University.”
All heads snapped towards Malik’s direction, but the sheikh met their stunned gazes calmly. “It’s in Miami, and it’s one of the best schools in the world.”
Unbelievable, Harper thought, half-confused, half-incredulous. Was he really letting go of Kyria just like that? And why suggest that of all places?
“Thanks but no thanks.” Kyria’s voice was strained, and who could blame her?
“Then perhaps Tsubaki in Tokyo?”
Okay, that made for two strikes now. This time Harper was close to scowling at the sheikh. Was he really that obtuse or was he doing this deliberately? Those two schools had something to do with Katerina Chariot, the girl currently (albeit unknowingly) causing such grief to Kyria. And Malik wanted her to study in either of those places?
“No.” And this time, Kyria’s voice was tight with anger.
Malik frowned. “What are you being mad about?”
Harper’s teeth gnashed. How could one be so dense? If she could be sure that throwing a glass of water on Malik’s too-beautiful face fell within her rights as queen, she would have done so then and there. Although Khalil had been reluctant to speak of Malik’s feelings for the girl, he had said just enough for Harper to understand that Malik had been half in love with Kyria for most of his life. If that was the case, then why couldn’t the idiot see how much he was hurting the girl he supposedly loved?
During Katerina’s stay at the palace, Malik had been less subtle than usual in the way he had flirted with the girl, and when the sheikh even flew all the way to Tokyo to meet with her, most people were convinced that marriage was in the works...Kyria included.
“Does that man really love her,” Harper burst out angrily as soon as she was alone with the king in their chamber.
“With his whole being, and probably more than we can ever comprehend.” Khalil swept her up in his arms as he spoke and carried his wife to bed.
“I know Malik must have told you what caused them to have this...this very civilized war between them...”
“I wouldn’t know what you’re talking about.” The king’s tone was polite, but his touch was gentle as he laid Harper on the bed.
She snorted. “No need to admit it. I know you guys don’t hide anything from each other.”
“If that’s the case...” His weight settled over her, and she bit back a gasp of pleasure as he licked her lips. “What’s your point?”
“Umm...” It took her a while to answer, that tiny taste of pleasure more than enough to make Harper lose her senses. Clearing her throat, she said, “That morning changed things between them, and for as long as they don’t talk about it, they’re just going to keep hurting each other.”
“Probably.”
She gaped. “That’s all you’re going to say?”
“It’s what I think—-” And this time, Khalil’s dark gaze held a serious look of warning. “—-but you and I and the others are not allowed to say anything.”
“B-but—-”
He said very gently, “ Malikta .” My queen. “It is their lives, and so we must allow them to make their own decisions as they see fit.”
“I know that,” she exclaimed in frustration. “But didn’t you see Kyria’s face when Malik suggested KC’s schools to her? He was hurting her!”
“Even so.” The king sighed, and seeing his wife prepare to start arguing with him again, he forestalled her words with a shake of his head. “Let me ask you this. Has Kyria told you that she is in love with Malik?”
She bit her lip. “No.”
“Has Kyria told you that she’s stopped seeing him as her brother?”
“No,” she admitted reluctantly.
“Then you mustn’t say another word that could influence her. I know this whole thing seems romantic, but you mustn’t forget Kyria is just eighteen. She’s young, impressionable. A word from you and especially from Malik could change her mind, but would it really be her decision? My brother is suffering, too, Harper. More so than Kyria, I would suspect, because unlike her – he is certain of his feelings for her. Unlike her, Malik knows exactly what he had lost – just as he knows there’s no guarantee he can have it back.”