AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“So we’re just traveling through a market? That’s how the bride market got its name?” Beth said in relief. “I was afraid we’d be offered for sale, like candy bars with price tags!”
The vizier looked down his nose. “It’s ceremonial, Dr. Farraday. You’ll be brought from my palace on palanquins and carried in a parade through the souk—that’s the old market square—before being presented formally to the king at the royal palace.” He turned to the others. “Welcome to my home. You may choose how to spend the afternoon. Rest and prepare for the ball tonight, or if you prefer, tour the city.”
“Rest,” four women said in unison.
“Tour,” said Beth.
An hour later, Beth was met by a smiling Samarqari tour guide. She spent the afternoon listening to the girl’s every word, wanting to learn as much as possible about this fascinating country. She drove through the city streets of Khazvin, sampled Samarqari dishes, listened to the traditional music. She was shocked to learn details about the horrible civil war of two generations before that had wiped out a third of the population.
“And even after the war ended, our country struggled in poverty...” Then the tour guide brightened. “But since King Omar came to the throne, Samarqara has been blessed. Now we await his choice of queen and the birth of an heir, and our happiness will be secure.”
Her eyes glowed. Beth blushed beneath her gaze. She clearly thought Beth might have a shot at the title.
After just a few hours looking at the sights, they returned to the palace too soon for Beth’s liking. As the driver, accompanied by a bodyguard and the tour guide, drove them back through the city in the SUV, Beth noticed people stopping to stare at them from the sidewalk, peering toward the darkened glass windows.
“Why are they doing that?” Beth whispered.
“They want to see you,” the tour guide replied, smiling. “They’re curious about the woman who will someday rule them.”
“It won’t be me, I’m afraid,” Beth said wistfully. She looked out at the beautiful city.
“You’re too modest, Dr. Farraday. You are the best choice.”
Beth turned to her with a frown. “Why do you say that?”
“Because you are the only one who cared enough to see my country,” the girl said simply. “And so I shall tell all my friends. Though alas—” she sighed “—they are not on the high council.”
After they arrived back at the vizier’s palace, Beth lingered in the foyer.
“Please. Just let me try the words one more time.”
The tour guide nervously glanced to the right and left of the grand foyer of the palace. “Are you not in a rush to get ready for the ball?”
Beth snorted. She didn’t need to impress the council. She was just Omar’s buddy. His pal. She could have worn sweatpants, if that wouldn’t have been an insult to both the king and his nobles. But she wanted to have good manners, as her grandma had taught her, and that meant learning the words. “Please.”
The tour guide sighed and said doubtfully, “As you wish.”
The tour guide had earlier tried to teach her a few words of the Samarqari dialect. But learning languages had never been Beth’s forte. She’d managed yes—nem—and no—laa. But the phrase she really wanted to learn, the traditional greeting to respected strangers, Peace and joy be upon your house, had made the tour guide look alarmed every time Beth tried to say it.
Now, as Beth attempted the phrase yet again, the young woman gasped. “Honored doctor,” she begged, “you must never say that phrase, ever again.”
But after the guide left, Beth continued to stubbornly practice the phrase in her mind. Peace and joy be upon your house. How bad could her pronunciation really be?
A maid escorted her to her assigned bedroom in the vizier’s palace—another truly lavish suite, with a view of slender palm trees and the blue sky over blue water. Beth was ready before she needed to be. She looked at herself in the mirror. Another night, another fancy dress. This one was the fanciest of all, an emerald ball gown, the softest whisper of silk against her skin. She brushed out her light brown hair until it gleamed and put on makeup. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were sad.
Tonight was the last night. She had to make it count.
Beth was th
e last to be called downstairs. She saw the other brides whispering to each other in the hall outside the ballroom. Then, one by one, the women were formally presented to the Samarqari aristocracy—including the high council.
While Beth, the Sydney attorney and the Silicon Valley executive were met with courteous, disinterested applause, half of the nobles seemed to go crazy with cheers for Laila, and the other half rooted for Sia Lane, “the most famed beauty in the world!”
Beth wondered ironically how long the nobles would clap for her after they actually got a chance to talk to her. She pushed the thought away. She was determined to have good manners, no matter what.
When Beth was introduced to the five elderly men of the high council, and their wives, she swallowed hard, lifted her chin, and spoke the traditional Samarqari greeting, the one she knew would really impress them.
“Peace and joy be upon your house,” she proclaimed proudly in Samarqari.
