AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘The life you now lead?’ Her father’s voice lowered with disappointment, the scowl on his face full of annoyance and frustration. She was only making this worse. Making it harder for herself. Making him angrier. ‘I’ve allowed you to indulge in that fancy long enough.’
She stepped forward, her own frustration making her reckless. ‘It’s not a fancy, Father, it’s my life now. One I needed to make for myself.’
He sighed slowly and looked at her, his expression softening very slightly, making her think of the father he’d been when she was younger. The father who’d loved her even though she hadn’t been born a son. The father who had been more relaxed—until the burden of inheriting and ruling a financially struggling and small kingdom had snatched that man away. ‘I understand why you needed to go. That’s why I said nothing when you turned your back on the lifestyle your title could have brought you.’
‘Then you will understand why I can’t marry. Not ever.’
‘It’s not that simple, Kaliana. Our kingdom is in jeopardy. Our people too. The only way out of it is for you to marry.’ The resignation in his voice shocked her. The angry ruler of moments ago had gone. The man she’d loved as a carefree child had returned. It was that man who tugged on her conscience.
‘And who will I marry, Father? Alif, the man I loved, the man you were perfectly happy for me to marry, died—remember?’ A stab of pain shot through her as she recalled being told her fiancé had been killed in a tragic helicopter crash just weeks before their wedding.
‘Nassif has asked for your hand in marriage.’ Her father’s words cut savagely through that memory.
‘Nassif?’ Kaliana couldn’t believe she was hearing right. How could he do this to her? How could her father even think she would marry anyone? But Nassif?
‘Alif’s uncle? Alif’s cruel and spiteful uncle? You can’t mean that?’ Her voice was a strangled cry of pain and despair. Her throat had gone dry, as if she’d walked all day in the heat of the desert and not taken one sip of water. Her head spun and she dragged in rapid deep breaths, desperate to regain control of herself and this conversation. ‘I can’t. I. Can’t.’
‘Marriage to Nassif will unite our countries, just as they should have been five years ago, if you’d married Alif.’ Her father sat once again behind his desk, the formidable ruler he’d become slipping back into place. The glimpse of the father she’d known long ago, gone. Or was it just her wishful thinking? She’d foolishly been hoping her father would be pleased to see her after five years. How wrong could she be?
Kaliana’s knees weakened and she wished she could slump to the floor as past hurt, past pain and heartache collided with the panic of what her father had planned. What he expected her to do without question. ‘But Nassif is so much older than me.’
‘That is true,’ he said slowly, his response to her objection so obviously rehearsed. ‘Now that his wife has passed away, he wants to make you his wife.’
Kaliana backed away, needing the roar of panic in her head to stop, needing the wild spinning of her mind to cease. ‘No. I will not marry him.’
Sweat prickled on her forehead. Nausea rose and the need to turn and run became almost irresistible. But she couldn’t run. Somewhere deep inside her, the duty her mother had implanted so innocuously into her from a young age resurfaced. Took over.
She wanted to run. But she couldn’t. She had a duty to do. Duty to her family. Her kingdom.
Deep down, she’d always known her father had allowed her time away, allowed her time to heal the pain of her broken heart. But now that reprieve was over. It was time for her to do the right thing. Do the duty she’d been born to.
But marriage to Nassif? She shivered with sickening revulsion. Marriage to anyone would be bad enough, but to her late fiancé’s vile uncle? Unthinkable.
Her father watched her without saying anything. He didn’t even flinch when, with a great shuddering breath that could lead to tears if she let it, she looked at him. Imploring him to understand. Imploring him to tell her he’d find someone else.
Someone else. The words wandered around her mind like mist on an autumn morning in London, shrouding all other thoughts. What if she did marry someone else?
Spurred on by the idea, the desperate thought that this was the solution, she moved back towards him. ‘I can’t marry Nassif, Father.’
‘Ardu Safra is facing financial ruin. Whilst you have been in London things have become very bad here.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘It is for me to deal with. I was counting on your marriage to Alif to make things right.’ The sharpness of his words only just hid his panic, the seriousness of the situation.
‘There were problems even then?’ she asked, saddened to think she’d been happy and free in London, while her mother and father had carried this burden.
‘Yes. And now I must ask that you make a marriage with Nassif.’ His voice had hardened. Was that to hide his shame that things had got so bad in the country he ruled? Guilt raced through her, forming a potent cocktail, mixing with her fear. A cocktail that made her almost physically sick.
‘Father, no. Not Nassif.’
‘He is a very wealthy man.’ Her father looked at her, no longer the strong ruler but a man who looked broken and defeated. A man who was depending on her. Her heart wrenched. ‘And he is willing to invest in Ardu Safra.’
She shook her head in protest, but the straight line of her father’s mouth warned her it was in vain.
‘Your marriage will bring the finances you should have brought with your marriage five years ago.’ She knew that gritty determination in his voice. He would get what he wanted. One way or another. And he wanted to save Ardu Safra by marrying her off to a wealthy man.
But did that man have to be Nassif?
