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He shrugged. ‘You will appreciate that this is a unique situation for both of us. We’ll need to strategise the best way forwards.’
‘You’re speaking but not really saying much.’
He dragged a hand through his hair, the first sign that the circumstances they found themselves in weren’t straightforward. ‘I can’t give you an answer I don’t have. Not without further investigation.’
‘Investigation?’ she echoed.
‘All signs point to the fact that Rumadah needs its rightful ruler back on the throne. It hasn’t had one for two decades.’
‘Because a new one couldn’t be crowned for twenty-five years,’ she added, recalling what she’d read about her country’s constitution on the plane. According to the laws, a missing heir to the throne couldn’t be ruled out until twenty-five years had passed. In that time a twelve-member council, the same that had served the last King, would rule the kingdom.
In another five years, she would’ve lost her birthright.
But was it one she wanted, if it meant what she was beginning to fear? Because how could she claim her Rumadian birthright and still remain Queen of Khalia? Zufar’s wife?
Her insides shook at the mere thought of walking away from him. It seemed more impossible now than ever. Because the loss of her family wasn’t the only reason she’d cried on the plane. She’d also cried because she’d finally accepted that she was in love with Zufar. And painfully accepted that that love would never be reciprocated.
‘Perhaps we shouldn’t jump the gun just yet. This could all be an elaborate hoax,’ she said, more in hope than expectation.
The look in Zufar’s eyes told her the same. ‘A few days ago I urged you to reconcile yourself to never discovering your past. That landscape has changed and delivered everything you hoped for. Perhaps you should reconcile yourself to this blessing?’
She flinched at the trace of censure in his voice. Before she could respond, he turned from her. ‘I need to catch up on a few engagements. Don’t wait up for me.’
The last statement was both a blessing and a curse. He intended to find her in their bed when he deigned to return but he didn’t care whether she was awake or asleep now that she was pregnant?
Niesha was rubbing at that agonising spot in her chest when the doors opened again and Halimah and the rest of her retinue descended on her.
She forced herself to respond that, yes, she was happy to be back, and that, yes, her honeymoon had been everything she’d dreamed about as they helped her undress and ran a bath for her. She withstood their attention for as long as she could, until she felt as if her face would break if she smiled one more time.
They respectfully retreated when she asked for privacy. With a sigh, she sank into her lavender and jasmine-scented bath. Immediately, a few dozen questions crowded her mind.
Zufar had suggested she be grateful to have her birthright back. But would everyone else feel the same? Would her people even want her once the inevitable announcement was made?
With no definitive answers in hand, she ate a light dinner and went to bed early.
If Zufar came to bed at all, he was gone when she woke, and when Kadira arrived, she was told His Highness had instructed her workload be kept light until further notice.
If he wanted to set tongues wagging about a possible pregnancy, he couldn’t have done a better job, she thought with a bite of irritation. All day, Kadira slid smiling, speculative glances at her. And Halimah and her attendants joined in as they helped her prepare for bed.
Again, she didn’t see Zufar, even when she woke in the middle of the night.
When she next woke, it was with a heavy, pounding heart.
Today was the day.
Dr Basim had been given forty-eight hours. Whatever happened, she would have a choice to make.
* * *
His wife, his Queen, who carried his heir, was herself an heiress to another kingdom. Even though Zufar had known it was inevitable the moment he’d clapped eyes on the pictures of Niesha’s parents, he wasn’t ashamed to admit a small part of him had hoped that the information would be proved wrong.
Dr Basim and a team of doctors in Rumadah had proved conclusively that Niesha, or Nazira, as she was being addressed in his conference room, was the rightful heiress to the Rumadian throne.
Not that he’d wished for her past to remain a closed chapter to her, but this situation was not at all what he’d anticipated or remotely wanted.
With their reports, however, another bombshell had been dumped into his lap. One that demanded immediate remedy.
He watched the councillors who had accompanied Dr Basim bow and scrape before Niesha. Watched her shy, smiling acknowledgement, and the eagerness with which she absorbed every morsel of information they delivered to her.
