2. Chapter 2 The Weight of Duty #3
I have built my life as the Sheikh of the Jabal al-Dhahab on the skilled execution of strategy for the good of our nation and its future. Every negotiation I have ever entered, I have won. Every alliance I have brokered, has held. I do not lose because I do not proceed until I know the terrain.
The psychological analysis of Juliana Caldwell is the topographical map for the terrain of her courtship.
Will another man in my family be able to execute the strategy necessary as well as I can?
I am still asking myself that question when I meet with my father in his private office two hours later.
"You think she would be most amenable to life outside the capital?
" my father and king, Harun ibn Qadir al-Zahriya, asks.
"That is surprising. Most women would be pleased to live in a city such as Nurayn, where the boutiques are stocked by the most well-known fashion designers.
Our theater boasts shows of Broadway quality and concerts played by philharmonic orchestras in between productions. "
"You sound like a tourist brochure." I smile cynically at my father.
He grimaces. "I have spent the last two hours meeting with our minister of tourism and his cabinet."
"Ah. That explains it."
"Regardless, the points I make are valid."
"For most women." For most people, which is why cities have such high populations and rural areas boast small towns and villages.
It is not simply a matter of employment opportunities, but a lifestyle our modern society has grown accustomed to.
A lifestyle I am happy to eschew most of the year for the calmer life in Ayn al-Hayat.
"Juliana is not most women, however. She is more content around horses than adult humans." She does well with the children in the equine therapy program though, which bodes well for her willingness to have a family.
My father narrows his eyes in thought. "One of your cousins living at Sahil al-Jadid would be best, I suppose. It is too bad Karim insists on living on that damn yacht so many months of the year."
Dark violence hovers under the surface of my calm demeanor. My peahen and my brother? I will see him staked out in the desert without water for a day first.
And I will only release him from his bonds when he gives his vow never to touch the curvy little frump.
"She would not be happy without access to a stable so much of the year," is all I say.
"No, I don't suppose she would." My father sighs, something he would never do in front of anyone but our nuclear family.
We do not show frustration, annoyance or delight without careful consideration beforehand. Exhibiting emotions can be a solid tactic, but it should never be spontaneous.
"Marrying her to Karim would be expedient though." Which means my father has not dismissed the possibility completely.
But it is untenable.
My younger brother avoids Nurayn for most of the year, disappearing to the rigs and the northern coast, vanishing onto the Najmat al-Sahra for weeks at a time. The world he operates in is all roughneck engineers and men who value bluntness over ceremony.
Throwing a wounded, shy woman into his path would be like tossing a porcelain cup into a storm.
A consideration worth noting. My mind immediately starts striking men off the list I intended to offer to my father as proposed candidates. Now that I consider it, there is something wrong with each of them.
I think of Zayed, bearing the weight of a promise made before he was old enough to ride alone. A duty he would never have considered foisting off on another, even if he had known it would end in tragedy for him.
Am I any less a prince of my people? Is my duty to the crown any lighter?
No. And no.
The clinic for which we are seeking the licensing and research partnership with Caldwell Biomedical Holdings is within my sheikdom.
"I will do it." Surely, I am the only man of my house who should take on this burden.
For the first time in memory, my kingly parent looks stunned. "You?"
"As Sheikh Jabal al-Dhahab, it is my honor to fulfill this duty."
"But to marry this woman who has neither grace nor beauty? It would be a sacrifice."
I do not take issue with my father's description of Juliana, for it would imply I see her differently. And I do not.
But something about my peahen calls to the primitive man inside me. The sheikh who carries the DNA of thousands of years of leaders among men.
No one else but I will claim the curves she hides so diligently with her oversized clothing cut in styles meant to blend into the background rather than entice.
"You do not consider it would be any less of a sacrifice for Karim?" I ask, rather than give voice to thoughts better left unsaid.
"Your brother will never marry unless I take a hand in finding him a wife. You charm the women of our circles. You date." Left unsaid by my father are the obvious differences between the women I choose to date and Juliana.
Neither does he mention again the benefits of a familial connection to Franklin Caldwell. But they remain valid.
"I will do my duty to the crown and my people." I stand. "If that is all, father? I have a campaign to plan."
"I could almost feel pity for the shy woman you intend to turn your formidable skills at diplomacy and negotiation on. She stands no chance of not falling in love with you if that is your will."
"It is." Her father believes Juliana will refuse the marriage unless she loves me.
Therefore, she will love me.