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The lump of emotion wedged firmly in her throat grew as she caught sight of the crowd beyond the barricades set up on either side of the plane.
She paused for one full minute to wave before she slowly descended the stairs.
She’d been briefed on the protocol.
Her council of elders would be the first lined up on either side of the red carpet. Beyond that the senior members of the military...her military, would be next in line. Then a few prominent ministers and dignitaries.
So she was startled when a figure broke away from the line and approached the bottom of the steps.
Niesha gasped as the unmistakeable figure of her husband materialised in front of her. ‘Zufar...what are you doing here?’ she whispered as he stepped forwards and took her hand.
‘It is my right as your husband to be at your side, is it not?’ he returned.
She kept a smile pinned to her face as he raised her hand and kissed the back of it. Peripherally, she heard the crowd go wild.
‘Welcome home, Your Highness,’ he intoned deeply.
She took another step down, their height disparity forcing her to look up at him. His face was a perfectly neutral picture of regal discipline, his eyes giving away none of his feelings.
‘I don’t understand...’
‘You don’t need to. You’re perfectly capable of doing this on your own. But I’m here nevertheless.’
For how long? she wanted to demand. But she’d already broken protocol, albeit through no fault of her own. He took a single step to the side and stood tall and proud and royal, but out of her way.
With a nod, she stepped onto the carpet, widening her smile as the chief adviser held out his hand.
‘We are so very fortunate and honoured that you have returned to us, Your Serene Highness. Welcome home.’
All through the greeting of her statesmen and military, she was acutely aware of Zufar’s presence one step beside her.
How had he got here before her?
Why was he here?
Was he staying?
The questions tumbled through her mind over the next few hours. At some point it struck her that she’d become an expert at compartmentalising because she managed to talk and walk and respond easily to conversation, even while her insides churned.
But everything fell away the moment they left the State House and approached Nazir Palace, the home she’d lived in so very briefly before losing it all.
Unlike Zufar’s hilltop palace, Nazir Palace sat in the centre of the city, right on the doorstep of the people. In fact, hundreds of citizens and tourists were strolling through the public grounds as her motorcade entered the gates and drove through secured gates to the private front door.
Niesha struggled to remember any aspect of her home during the grand tour. Nothing came to mind, not even the toys left in the same position as the day she’d left and never returned. When she said as much, she received sympathetic murmurings.
‘You will make new memories, I’m certain, Your Serene Highness,’ her chief adviser said with a gentle smile.
Niesha wasn’t unaware of the gentle pressure coming her way. Or the way Zufar stiffened each time the subject of her return was casually dropped into conversation.
When they reached her parents’ bedroom it all grew too much. ‘May I have a moment alone, please?’
‘Of course.’
The room emptied immediately, save for Zufar. He walked by her side as she walked through the bedroom suite, touching her father’s discarded tiepin, inhaling her mother’s silk scarf that still faintly held her scent.
In their dressing room, she picked up her mother’s hairbrush, gasping when the faintest memory materialised.
‘I remember her...this room. She would sit me on her lap and comb my hair with this brush.’ The last of the words dissolved into a sob.
