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Her heart squeezed painfully. ‘I...I don’t want to make them unhappy but—’
‘But what? You wish to return to a life of single servitude?’
‘I want to have a choice in when and who I marry!’
His hand dropped, his expression tightening in offence. ‘And I’m so vastly unsuitable?’
‘I didn’t say that,’ she mumbled. On the contrary, he was a little too close to her ideal specification of a husband.
‘What will suit you, then?’ he asked, but Niesha had a feeling he was just humouring her.
Her chin went up. ‘For you to honour your initial agreement, that this was only temporary.’
Again he went silent for several spine-tingling minutes. Then he nodded. ‘Very well. Five years,’ he murmured deeply and abruptly. ‘That is all I ask. Five years.’
‘I... What?’
‘If a permanent marriage to me is too much for you to handle, then let’s revisit our situation in five years. In the meantime, you stay by my side. Bear my heirs. At the end of it, if you still want your freedom, I will grant it to you. In return, you will have the education you want, any position you desire, the title of Queen, and riches beyond your wildest dreams.’
‘Can you please stop talking about your wealth? I don’t want your money.’
His forefinger tucked under her chin and lifted her gaze up to meet his. ‘What about my people? Do you hate them so much that you wish to see them unhappy?’
‘That’s not fair,’ she said.
A grim smile played around his lips. ‘Get your head out of the clouds, little one. If life was fair, you would not have ended up in an orphanage.’
There was no malice in his tone, only stark truthfulness. And yet the pain was hard to block out. Although there was no record of her past, the quality of the clothes on her back when she’d been found wandering dangerously close to a ravine had indicated that she might have been cared for at one point. But this was no salve rig
ht now. Well off or not, she’d been abandoned, possibly left for dead, the orphanage matron had informed her after endless probing.
Niesha had stopped asking about her past when every query—besides those about what she’d been wearing the day she was found at just five years old—had met with a stern rebuke to look forwards not backwards. She had a roof over her head and food in her belly. She needed to be grateful for that, she was told.
Nevertheless, those questions had never left her. It was what fuelled the burning need to work with children. Especially orphaned children.
If she could at some point in the future reunite one child with their rightful past that would be enough for her. Because the pain lodged in her heart all these years later wasn’t something she wanted any child to experience.
The idea that Zufar al Khalia could expedite everything she’d ever dreamed of slowly wove through the waves of pain. The other things he had mentioned—being Queen, bearing his children—sent bolts of anxiety through her. They were so impossibly far-reaching she shook her head. ‘You...want me to have your children?’
His lips twisted. ‘That is generally the idea when a man takes a wife. But especially so in my case since mine is a hereditary rule.’
She stopped herself from laughing hysterically. Was she even capable?
‘If you’re wondering if you can bear children, I’ve also seen your medical file. There’s nothing to suggest that you may not be able to carry my children.’
Was there a square inch of her life he hadn’t probed? The question was ludicrous, of course. He was the head of the royal family. It stood to reason that he would cover every base. Even though they’d been brought together by a set of bizarre circumstances, it seemed as if Zufar had every intention of making this work.
But did she?
‘I need your answer, little one.’ He pressed his finger still resting beneath her chin, not allowing any avenue of escape.
‘Children,’ she echoed, her mind darting to his face, unable to stop her imagination from running wild. Would their offspring look like him? Images bombarded her, filling her with a sudden longing that robbed her of breath.
‘Many,’ he echoed. ‘As many as we can manage in five years.’
The prospect of marriage and children had been abstract thoughts in the daily grind of her work in the palace. It was something she had hoped would happen in the future. The reality that it was happening now, unfolding right before her eyes, was almost too much to take in.
As if he knew he had her on the ropes, that she was reeling from everything he had laid out at her feet, he leaned forwards until his mouth was a scant inch from hers. ‘Do you agree?’ he breathed.
