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The other man looked ill. “Nabeeha has always been a headstrong girl. I must confess that I spoiled her all her life, as her mother has long been the favorite of all my wives. My sons warned me of this danger, but I did not listen. The fault is mine.”
“The betrothal was agreed upon,” Tarek reminded him. “Vows were made and witnessed while my father yet lived.”
He remembered the signing of all those documents, here in this very room. His father, already weak, had been thrilled that his son’s future was settled. Mahmoud had been delighted that he would take a place of even greater prominence in the kingdom. But it had taken Ahmed’s presentation of the dossier the palace kept on the woman who was to be his Queen to refresh his recollection of the girl in question, who had not been present that day, as it was not her signature that mattered.
Perhaps that had been an oversight.
“I would have her keep those vows,” Mahmoud said hurriedly. “She was only meant to get an education. A little bit of polish, the better to acquit herself on your arm, Sire. That was the only reason I agreed to let her go overseas. It was all in service to your greater glory.”
“Those are pretty words, but they are only words. Meanwhile, my betrothed is...what? At large in North America? Never to be heard from again?”
“I am humiliated by her actions,” Mahmoud cried, and this time, it was definitely a wail. And well he should wail, Tarek thought. For his daughter’s defection was not only an embarrassment—it would cost his family dear. “But she has asked for asylum in Canada. And worse, received it.”
“This gets better and better.” Tarek shook his head, and even laughed, though the sound seemed to hit the other man like a bullet. “On what grounds does the pampered daughter of an international businessman, fiancée of a king, seek asylum?”
“I cannot possibly understand the workings of the Western governments,” the man hedged. “Can anyone?”
Tarek’s mouth curved. It was not a smile. “You do understand that I betrothed myself to your daughter as a favor to my father. An acknowledgment of the friendship he shared with you. But you and I? We do not share this same bond. And if your daughter does not respect it...”
He shrugged. The other man quailed and shook.
“Sire, I beg of you...”
“If your daughter does not wish to marry her King, I will not force her.” Tarek kept his gaze on his father’s friend, and did not attempt to soften his tone. “I will find a girl with gratitude for the honor being done her, Mahmoud. Your daughter is welcome to enjoy her asylum as she sees fit.”
Despite the increased wailing that occurred then, Tarek dismissed the older man before he was tempted to indulge his own sense of insult further.
“You must take the part of the kingdom,”his father had always cautioned him.“Your own feelings cannot matter when the country hangs in the balance.”
He reminded himself of that as he looked at the photograph before him of the blandly smiling girl, a stranger to him, who had so disliked the notion of marrying him that she had thrown herself on the mercy of a foreign government. What was he to make of that?
Then, with a single barked command, he summoned Ahmed before him.
“Why have I not been made aware that the woman who was to become my bride has sought, and apparently received, political asylum in a foreign country?”
Ahmed did not dissemble. It was one reason Tarek trusted him. “It was a developing situation we hoped to solve, Sire. Preferably before you knew of it.”
“Am I such an ineffectual monarch that I am to be kept in the dark about my own kingdom?” Tarek asked, his voice quiet.
Lethal.
“We hoped to resolve the situation,” Ahmed said calmly. No wailing. No shaking. “There was no wish to deceive and, if you do not mind my saying so, you had matters of far greater importance weighing upon you this last year. What was a tantrum of a spoiled girl next to an attempted coup?”
Tarek could see the truth in that. His sense of insult faded. “And can you explain to me, as her father could not, why it is that the girl would be granted political asylum in the first place? She was allowed to leave the kingdom to pursue her studies. Supported entirely by me and my government. She would face no reprisals of any kind were she to return. How does she qualify?”
Ahmed straightened, which was not a good sign. “I believe that there are some factions in the West who feel that you have...violated certain laws.”
Tarek arched a brow. “I make the laws and therefore, by definition, cannot violate them.”
“Not your laws, Sire.” Ahmed bowed slightly, another warning. “There are allegations of human rights abuses.”
“Against me?” Tarek was genuinely surprised. “They must mean my brother, surely.”
He did try not to speak his brother’s name. Not thinking it was more difficult.
“No, the complaint is against you. Your government, not his attempt at one.”
“I had the option for capital punishment,” Tarek argued. “I chose instead to demonstrate benevolence. Was this not clear?”
