CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
S AHIR DID NOT walk from the royal jet.
He strode.
Not to his father’s office, but to the Venus wing. Hakaam didn’t halt him with his predictions or warnings. He just stood by the star, wringing his hands.
It was grief. Sahir knew that as he stepped into the bedroom suite...
There were the gowns she had worn still hanging, and he picked up the book by her bed, hurt for her because she hadn’t taken it.
Opening it, he saw his mother’s name—and closed it abruptly.
‘You can be so staid at times.’ He could almost hear her voice. ‘Just like your father.’
No.
He was not staid. Had not been staid from the second Violet had arrived in his life. He preferred himself now...missed her more than he knew how to miss another person.
And she was the priority.
It could be no other way.
The people would understand—or not.
Simply, it was right.
So he stood and walked away at pace.
Hakaam was still pacing around the star, and when he saw the direction Sahir was taking he pounced. ‘Your Highness...’
‘Not now,’ Sahir barked. ‘I have to speak with the King.’
‘The planets in fire are misaligned. There is no harmony,’ Hakaam urged. ‘Please show restraint...’
‘Too late.’
He parted the guards and walked past Aadil, and it was the King who hurriedly asked for the room to be cleared.
‘You have no idea what you’ve done.’ The doors had barely closed before he told his father the consequences of his actions. ‘The jet is being refuelled. I leave for London as soon as the pilots are here.’
‘You cannot leave now,’ the King said. ‘It’s not possible.’
‘It’s what is happening. I am leaving tonight. I shall discuss my schedule later, but for now I shall be in London, sorting out the mess you have made. I might marry there—if she can forgive what has occurred.’
‘Any marriage would be void here.’
‘Then I shall be a bitter, lonely ruler like you—save for the times when I am overseas.’
‘What about heirs?’
‘That is a matter for you and the council.’
‘They would never agree. They would demand your banishment.’
‘I shall not go voluntarily—you would have to rescind my titles. Know this, though: you will get to explain why I am overseas. How dare Aadil plant those jewels?’
‘She was caught red-handed,’ the King sneered.
Sahir’s curse told his father what he thought of that.
‘Look...’ the King said, and he opened a file, handed Sahir a sheaf of papers clipped to a photo of Violet on the balcony. ‘Take a look...’
‘I don’t need to.’
‘Of course you do!’
Sahir skimmed through the papers, his throat tightening as he realised how Violet had toned down the horrors of her childhood for him. He now learned that she had been taken from her parents at birth, rehomed over and over, then sent out alone into the world at sixteen.
‘Hardly impressive reading,’ his father said.
‘On the contrary,’ Sahir said. ‘I find it very impressive that, despite all that, Violet is warm and strong.’
‘She didn’t even finish school.’
Sahir put down the file. ‘I believe you yourself said never to mistake education for intelligence.’
‘Her father has been repeatedly jailed. It’s reprehensible!’
‘Yes, both Violet and I have fathers whose behaviour has been reprehensible.’ Sahir came right up to his face. ‘It’s brought us closer.’
‘You are infatuated,’ the King said. ‘You are in love .’
Sahir drew in a breath.
Hakaam might well be right, he thought. Restraint was required. Because to admit to love would be the death knell for both of them. It would mean that Violet could never be his wife.
‘I’m going to London.’
‘Sahir, please take another look at the photo.’
Angrily he swiped up the file and looked at the image—and then he understood why Hakaam had been pacing, for perhaps this really was a most perilous moment.
‘Look at you, Sahir,’ said the King.
His eyes moved to his own image. He was in the background, standing by the French windows, watching Violet. Her arms were raised...she was soaking in the morning. He barely recognised his own features, the look in his eyes, the soft smile he wore...
His father had known before he had.
‘Love is a poor decision-maker,’ his father said. ‘An Achilles heel—a weakness that can be manipulated. Our people have suffered enough for that. Their king—’
‘I’m aware of what happened, and why the laws are in place. How my mother suffered for them.’
‘What did she say to you?’ He watched his father’s features darken. ‘Your lover is both a thief and a liar.’
‘She’s neither,’ Sahir said. ‘I haven’t spoken to Violet. I don’t need to, to know.’
‘Your mother did not suffer.’
‘Oh, no? I’ll tell you this. If you had—’ He pulled back from the edge. From talking about the bruises his father had dismissed. His own guilt clashed within him as he fought not to lay blame. ‘Don’t lecture me about love.’
Sahir turned away.
‘You can’t leave now.’
‘Watch me.’
Sahir walked to the huge doors, expecting his father to call him back—which he did. But he had never anticipated the words he would choose.
‘I am to undergo surgery.’
The King let that sink in for just a moment, watching his eldest son, the most composed of men, recover from only the briefest falter and then turn around.
‘It is delicate surgery...neurological...’
‘You didn’t think to tell me?’
‘I had an...episode a couple of weeks ago.’
‘And?’
‘Aadil thought it should be checked out.’
‘No.’ Sahir shook his head. ‘Aadil would never have left you and come to London if you were ill...’
‘It didn’t seem that serious then. I was just...’
‘More worried than you let on to Aadil?’ Sahir said. ‘So it was time to push ahead on my marriage...’ He frowned. ‘What happened on Saturday?’
‘I don’t know what you are referring to.’
‘Don’t lie now.’
‘A small seizure. Hakaam overreacted and hit the panic alarm.’
‘I should have been informed.’
‘I myself have only just found out the extent of the...growth.’
‘Growth?’ He stood, stunned, watching his father discuss a brain tumour and his possible demise in such a matter-of-fact fashion.
‘I want to go into surgery knowing the future is taken care of. I want you married to a suitable bride—not giddy with love. I have fought hard to give you a peaceful land to rule over.’
‘Are you dying?’
‘We’ll know more after the surgery. Or you’ll know more and I’ll be gone...’
‘You cold bastard.’ Sahir stood. ‘How can you tell me like this?’ Then he looked at this man who had once so coldly sanctioned his aide to tell a teenager his mother had died. ‘Does it never enter your head that I might care?’
‘Sahir, this is not a time to be weak. I am explaining why you cannot leave.’
‘Do you know why I’m going to ask Violet to marry me?’ Sahir’s voice was like a knife. ‘Because I want everything my mother never had. I want my children to laugh with their father. Not to stand and be told he is dying as if he is simply getting a new robe.’
‘I am not scared of death.’
‘Good for you.’
‘Sahir!’ His father called him back. ‘Clearly you cannot leave now.’
‘You don’t get to play the emotions card when you have none,’ Sahir said. ‘The only way I stay is if I can marry the woman I love.’
‘The elders would never accept her.’
‘Then see that they do. If Violet is to return, I won’t keep her hidden. One day, she will be Queen...’
‘Sahir—’
He wasn’t listening. He was walking out. But then he heard the crack in his father’s voice.
‘Do not walk out...please...’
Sahir heard that ever-steady voice tremble, and on a day he had not thought could get any worse it simply did.
‘How can I fear dying when I will be with my beloved Anousheh once again?’
‘Father...?’
And then he watched as his father beat himself with the same stick Sahir had beaten himself with for decades.
‘She had bruises... I should have insisted she get checked out.’
‘No,’ Sahir said, a little awkwardly putting an arm around his father.
‘I did love her—and she loved me.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘Ask Violet...’ his father sobbed. ‘She knows your mother was loved.’
‘Are you having another episode?’ Sahir asked, in all seriousness. ‘How on earth can she know?’
‘She’s so easy to talk to...’
Oh, she was.
And never had Sahir missed her more.