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‘I look...completely different,’ she said in that same quiet voice. Her brow was furrowed as she picked up a shot of them both with their foreheads touching.
‘You don’t like them?’ he asked, genuinely eager to know the answer.
‘They are very well done.’ She smiled.
‘That is not what I asked.’
‘I suppose they’re quite convincing. Romantic and dreamy. But when one knows the truth, the illusion is spoiled a little.’ She placed the photo back down and arranged the others in a square formation, avoiding his gaze. ‘It’s a strange feeling, being married but not actually being married, isn’t it?’
‘We are married,’ he said with a hint of irony. ‘I have photographic evidence.’
‘You know what I mean—we have this arrangement.’ Cressida sighed, moving over to inspect the collection of tiny ships in bottles that adorned the shelves of his study. ‘I never understood how they got such detailed works inside these things without breaking it,’ she said absentmindedly, running a fingertip along the glass that encased a large rare Marlin.
‘It’s a hobby of mine,’ he said idly, wondering why her comment about not actually being married stuck in his mind.
‘You made all these?’ Her eyes widened as she took in the wall of shelves. ‘How on earth do you find the time?’
‘It calms my mind.’ He shrugged, not quite sure why he’d shared something so personal. A king did not struggle with an overactive mind. A king had complete control over his thoughts at all times.
‘It looks incredibly complicated.’ She was still peering at various models, genuine appreciation on her features.
‘It’s simple enough once you approach it from a point of logic. My father introduced me to it at a young age.’ A smile teased the corner of his lips as he remembered some of the tantrums he had thrown when he’d continued to fail at lifting the mast of the tiny ship. His father had always remained seated, never raising a hand or losing his temper. ‘Go over your plan and begin again,’ he would say calmly. Now, as a grown man, he could see that his father had given him the tools to harness the anger and uncontrolled nature that he had shown even as a young boy. There was no place in Zayyar’s future for another king without self-control. For another king ruled by his own selfish desires.
‘I was just about to order some tea,’ he said brusquely, walking away from her to gather his thoughts for a moment. ‘You are welcome to join me.’ He kept his tone light, telling himself he was inviting her to stay because he was simply not in the mood to be alone with his own thoughts. She was a good conversationalist. He had no ulterior motives for wanting to be alone with his wife in his study at night...
Clearly, she was having a similar thought process, considering she took a full two minutes to come to a decision before lowering herself into the armchair opposite his own. He had not been lying; he had been about to order tea. It was the only thing that calmed him in a mood such as this one.
His staff were efficient, laying out the perfectly polished pots and utensils between them, hot steam rising from the ornate copper teapot.
To his surprise, Cressida began the service, performing the Zayyari ritual with seemingly effortless movements. It was only because he studied her so closely that he noticed the slight tremble of her fingers, or the way her brow creased momentarily as she focused on her performance. He reached out to accept his cup from her fingers, deliberately brushing his thumb across her skin.
‘And you say that you do not feel like you are truly married?’ He sat back, savouring the taste of the sweet traditional brew on his tongue. ‘This seems like very wifely behaviour to me.’
‘Well, you would know more about that than I do.’ She focused on stirring her tea, taking a moment to realise what she had said. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so thoughtless...’
‘Don’t apologise.’ Khal shook off the comment, but still he found himself fighting the sudden sharp jab of discomfort with the reference to his first marriage. Perhaps because, since they’d sat down, he had been acutely distracted by the woman who sat across from him. Or maybe it was because his ring now lay upon her finger and so to think of another time seemed inappropriate somehow. Truthfully, he’d thought of his first wife less and less as the years passed. And, even then, only to ponder a new lead in his investigations into her accident. It had been five years, after all. He knew he could not feel the same intense emotions for ever, but still it brought guilt to realise he had truly accepted her death and moved on.
‘It seems morbid to ask if you sat like this in the past.’ Cressida spoke softly. ‘You have never spoken of your first marriage. I’ll admit that I am curious.’
‘My first marriage was very different for many reasons,’ Khal said simply, taking another sip of his tea. ‘I was very different.’
‘Your sister told me that you grieved for a long time. I got the impression that you were both very much in love.’ She met his eyes, a strangely guarded expression on her usually open features.
‘We were.’ He flexed the tightness from his fingers, laying his palm down flat on the arm of the chair. ‘In the beginning, at least.’
‘Oh.’
One syllable was all she needed to portray that she understood. She did not push the subject further and for that he was grateful. It was only the beginning of the myriad secrets of his seemingly perfect marriage to Priya. He had never spoken to anyone of the fact that all was not as it seemed. But now he felt strangely lighter having spoken of it, never having considered that there might be weight to carrying secrets.
‘My parents’ marriage was arranged,’ Cressida said after a while. ‘My grandmother always said they were lucky to have fallen madly in love as a result.’ She pursed her lips, meeting his eyes for a moment before looking away. ‘Seeing what falling out of love has done to them, I have always been of the opinion that it was better to have a marriage free of emotions.’
Khal frowned at her admission, picturing King Fabian and his cold, uninterested wife. He had been in their company on a number of occasions, and each time he had become more aware of the deep well of problems in the royal marriage. He was of the opinion that the issues ran far deeper than simply falling out of love, but he kept that thought to himself.
‘Is that why you agreed to marry me?’ he asked. ‘Other than your extreme devotion to your kingdom, of course.’
Cressida seemed to shift in her seat slightly, one hand adjusting the material of her nightgown. ‘I had many reasons for accepting this...arrangement.’
‘This is a marriage, habibti. Make no mistake.’ He did not mean for the hardness to creep into his voice but all of a sudden th
