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There was no sense of comradeship—no smiles or congratulations that one of them was about to break ranks and marry the King, because Effie wasn’t even one of them.
The royal dressers and handmaidens reigned supreme over a mere palace maid and Effie could see doubt in their eyes, the incredulity breaking into their voices at times—two of the younger maids even hastily smothered a giggle when they dressed her.
Staring at her reflection in the mirror, once they had finished, all Effie wanted to do was weep—it all looked wrong.
They had straightened her hair, her make-up was too severe and the white candlewick robe, though beautiful, was too jewelled and too fussy for her heavy figure.
She was a blushing bride, for all the wrong reasons. She was led through the palace and into Zakari’s vast study; dark rugs scattered the floor and an imposing desk was the centrepiece where several men sat, staring solemnly as she entered. The French windows were open, and the heady scent of the ornate gardens filling the room added the only soothing touch to her pounding senses, especially when her gaze fell on her groom.
He looked stunning.
Sheikh King Zakari Al’Farisi took her breath away as she shyly walked over to him. Dressed in the olive military uniform, medals from his exemplary service gleaming, his legs encased in long boots, a silver sword at his side, his head covered in the traditional black and white keffiyeh, he was as imposing as he was beautiful.
And he loved her, Effie reminded herself, clutching her mother’s jewel and wishing she could be here to offer support now, because she was truly terrified. How she longed for him to take her in his arms, to whisper words of reassurance, but all he did was nod a brief greeting as she stood humbly by his side.
‘There are some formalities we have to take care of…’ Zakari gestured that she sit, then did the same, followed by the many men in the room. An array of documents were spread on the heavy table in front of them. ‘As King, you will understand that even a whirlwind marriage like ours comes with an inevitable amount of paperwork that must first be taken care of?’
‘Of course.’
He hadn’t commented on her looks, had barely given her a glance as she had entered and his austere, formal voice was doing nothing to quell her nerves.
‘Normally talks would have been conducted with your father,’ Zakari explained. ‘Obviously that is not possible, so I have done my best on his behalf to see that you will always be well looked after. We have to sign these papers before a judge.’
‘Looked after?’ Effie frowned. She would be his wife—what more could she want?
‘There is the question of mahr…’ Effie’s frown melted away. She knew a little about mahr—a dowry that was paid to the wife. Zakari really was looking after her; she wouldn’t have even thought to ask… ‘This is your personal allowance and this will be your wardrobe allowance. Of course if you need more that will not be a problem, these are just details that must be addressed…’ Zakari showed her the figures that made her eyes water. ‘Then there is muta’ akhir…’ He saw her frown reappear. ‘If we were to divorce—this is the post-divorce dowry, what you would receive from me…’
‘Can I read it?’ She hearda small cough from one of his aides, saw his eyes flash, and she understood it was no doubt irregular. They probably thought she couldn’t read, but her mother had taught her well and she wanted to read the document before she signed anything. It was only Zakari who didn’t seem fazed by her request.
‘Of course.’ He flashed a thin smile. ‘Take your time.’
There were reams of papers—her title, her status, all outlined in minute details, yet that was a mere fraction of it. Her rights, their children’s rights, were all outlined and Effie felt her throat tighten, the magnitude of what was taking place just starting to dawn.
‘Sheikha Stefania of Calista….’ Effie gulped as she read on… Yes, he had looked after her, because even if they were to divorce, which was unheard of, and for Effie, unthinkable, still she would have a luxury home near the palace, still she would be paid an exceedingly generous allowance, and she would have full access to the royal princes and princesses they might one day bear, though they would be raised in the palace…
‘You will own my necklace?’ Effie did a double take as she read through the carefully worded jargon. ‘Why would you want my mother’s necklace?’
‘I had to let them know your assets.’ Zakari flicked his hand dismissively. ‘There had to be some division of assets to show your commitment to the marriage…’
‘But even so…’ Effie protested, clutching the pendant in her hand and shaking her head. ‘It was my mother’s gift to me when she died!’
‘You have a property also,’ Zakari explained rationally, ‘and all the furnishings in it. I did not want to put that, I know it means a lot to you… You said the necklace was worthless—it is merely a technicality…’
‘Of course…’ He was looking after her, Effie reasoned. The King would never need her home, yet Zakari had understood how precious it was to her… Her fingers held the stone in her hand, and Effie realised how silly she was being, wavering over a stupid piece of glass. As if Zakari would ever want it…as if there would even be a divorce…
He loved her, Effie assured herself, reliving the words he had uttered over and over again, and like a balm they soothed her as she picked up the pen.
It was, as he said, a mere technicality.
‘Where do I sign?’
‘Not yet…’ The door opened and Aarif and Kalila entered. Aarif was dressed in the same military uniform as his brother and was holding his wife Kalila’s hand and Effie wished that Zakari would hold hers. Kalila was dressed in a pale lilac chiffon dress, her hair swept back from her face, and she looked pale and worried, but she smiled kindly when she saw Effie.
‘Stand, please,’ the judge ordered then, and Effie stood with Zakari beside her, holding on to her elbow instead of her hand as the judge spoke in Arabic.
‘Three times he will ask you if you want to be my wife,’ Zakari translated. ‘After the third time you will say yes…’
The words were delivered, then said three times.
‘Yes!’ Effie breathed.
The judge repeated the question to Zakari, though it was only cited once for him.
‘Na’am.’ Zakari nodded. ‘Yes.’
Only then did the judge hand Effie the pen, and she signed the endless sheets of paper one by one as by her side Zakari did the same. Then they stood for what seemed like for ever as the Royal Seal was added to each one.
‘Now what happens?’ Effie whispered as the judge and aides sorted the papers.
‘Now?’ Zakari frowned.
‘The private ceremony…’
‘That was it,’ Zakari said and Effie felt her heart still for a second. ‘We are now officially married.’
CHAPTER SIX
HIS aides were anxious.
Zakari knew that.
In his pocket was the necklace his stepmother had given him to be worn by his bride on his wedding day. Right now he should be removing the Stefani stone from her neck and handing it to Hassan to place in the Calistan palace’s vault, only his stepmother’s words from yesteryear halted him.
‘Love the woman you give this to, Zakari, as your father loved me.’ He could hear Anya’s rich voice as she had shown him her most sentimental jewels—the ones his father had had made for her a couple of years before they had both died. ‘When everything is gone, Zakari, love is all we have. When the lights are dimmed at night, whether you sleep in a tent or a palace, it is she who you will hold in your arms.’
He stared down at Effie, could see the tears welling in her eyes, could read the confusion on her face, sense the panic building in her. Zakari knew she was overwhelmed, and in this moment he could not do it to her—could not reveal the real reason she was here.
‘Wait outside for me…’ He gave her a brief kiss on the cheek and waited till she was safely outside before he addressed his aides.
‘I will get the necklace tonight.’
‘But, Your Highness,’ Hassan implored, ‘you have waited so long for the Stefani jewel…’
‘Then I can wait a little while longer. Go…’ He would not be argued with, because he had no argument he could sensibly give. Of course he should claim the necklace now, except he couldn’t. He wanted to speak to her properly, to tell her why the diamond was so important, why it had been imperative he marry her, but away from the cold eyes of his aides. So instead he dismissed them—Hassan, his aides, the judge, even his brother and Kalila. With one flick of his wrist he dismissed them all. ‘I wish to be left alone. Tonight I am to be left undisturbed with my bride.’
* * *
His suite in the palace had been prepared for the wedding night.
Zakari dismissed both the maids waiting to prepare Effie for her night with her groom and the maids waiting to relieve him of the weight of his military uniform, choosing to take care of it himself. Unclipping the holster that held his sword, he took off the heavy, decorated jacket as Effie stood taking in the unfamiliar surrounds of Zakari’s chambers, an area which, until now, she had never been permitted to enter, even as a maid.
