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“No,” he said, his expression pained. “I wanted to tell you first.”
I swallowed hard and nodded. I appreciated that. Souhir was chosen, and she would leave. It didn’t seem real.
“When does she leave? Why are you telling me this?”
“I’m not sure that we see each other as often as we should, but I know you, Thimsal. I recognize the bond you have. Almost like sisters, don’t you think?”
His words took me aback. I never thought of it that way, but he was right. We had always been close, despite our differences. Souhir was more than a cousin. More than a friend. She was like a sister to me.
I looked at my trembling hands. “I suppose so.”
“You should know. I thought maybe you could talk to her. Help her prepare for what’s coming.”
“But why Souhir?”
Uncle Mehdi cocked his head. “Why not you?”
My brow furrowed. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
Uncle Mehdi sighed and leaned back in his chair again. “It’s complicated,” he said. “But the bottom line is that she needs to go. On paper, Souhir is ideal. She’s a beautiful, well-mannered young lady. And talented. She excels at weaving and wants to be a midwife. The Lunja would love her. She’s perfect.”
My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard. I wanted to argue, but I knew it was pointless.
Lovely Souhir, who wore her heart on her sleeve, and would never say no because it was not in her nature. Who always tried to please everyone and put others first. Who would go on this journey and never come back.
Souhir was going to be the one.
She would be a disaster as a princess. Her heart was too good, too pure. She would get hurt. Used. And she would never be the same.
They would break her.
And it would be all my fault.
My fault. My arrogance. My stupidity.
The thought of her going made me feel ill. But what could I do?
My breath caught in my throat, and I had to fight my tears.
I had to be strong. For her sake.
I folded my arms. “She’s not what Midar needs.”
Uncle Mehdi raised an eyebrow. “And you are?”
His words stung, but I pushed the pain away. I had to focus.
“It’s simply that Souhir is too trusting. They would exploit her compassionate nature. Please choose someone else.”
Anyone else.
Please, not Souhir.
“It’s not up to me, Thimsal. The Council made their decision and we have to respect it.”
He set his teacup on the table. “On paper, Souhir is the ideal candidate. But I think you would be the better choice.”
That paused me. I met his gaze, searching for any sign that he was joking. But there were none. He was serious.
