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In love with Qabid, in love with its people, in love with this region in particular. As the plane drops lower in the sky, coming in to land at an airport that’s little more than an airstrip with a small clay building a few hundred metres away, I feel a deep sense of awe. The landscape surrounding Thakirt is stark and barren – yet very, very beautiful. The town itself boasts greenery between the houses, hardy-looking trees that spike at funny angles and provide essential shade. It suggests a water source has either been found or created, making life here possible. The houses are all clay with red roofs, but many of the walls have been painted, so Thakirt is bright, little dabs of relief against the glare of the sand.
“Do you remember it, azeezi?” He asks, as we touch down and I continue to stare from the portal window.
I look at him without meaning to, my heart lurching in that predictable way it has. “I think I do.”
It’s a feeling that’s only grown stronger as the air-conditioned car drives us from the plane to the outskirts of Thakirt. I crane forward in the car to see better, eyes chasing down side streets, bright signs calling my attention, making me yearn for a chance to explore, to run these streets as I’m sure I must have, as a young girl.
“I’d like to go to the town.” I fix him with a determined stare, sure he’ll say ‘no’, and wanting to goad him anyway.
“After this meeting.”
His response surprises me; I hide it with difficulty. I turn my pleasure into cynicism, flicking a tight smile in his general direction. “Yes, of course. I know what’s expected of me, Zahir.”
He puts a hand on my wrist, and an involuntary gasp bursts from me, the contact searing something in my soul. “Do you?”
His eyes probe mine, digging through me, trying to read thoughts I wish to conceal even when I don’t know what they are.
“There are people here who were close with your father. People who will look to you for a sign as to how they should proceed. If you give them any indication that you do not support me whole heartedly –,”
Irritation snapped in her chest. “Give it a break, Zahir. You don’t need to threaten me. I know what’s at stake. If I do anything to drum up fresh life into the resistance or whatever you perceive is out here, you’ll continue my father’s exile and our marriage will have been for nothing. I get it.”
He leans closer, his breath warm against my cheek. “True, but that is not what I was going to say.”
My lungs burn with the effort of pumping air. Being close to him like this is taxing. I feel a need for respite, but that’s still a while off. “Fine. What were you going to say, your highness?”
His thumb pads over my inner-wrist, dispelling some of my tension while raising it in another, different way.
“If people here perceive that you do not support me, it will be bad. For my country, and for me, but most importantly, for them. I am asking you to set aside your petty need to punish me for what you see to be my crime against your father, and act like an Emira now.”
I gasp, the words rich with a condemnation I wasn’t expecting, his judgement making me ache with a sudden onset of shame. It’s impossible for me to understand all the ways in which my lack of support could be ‘bad’ for the people of Thakirt, but I don’t doubt his sincerity.
“I intend to uphold our agreement. I married you for my father, but I knew there was a price in that. I’m prepared to play the part of your Queen, don’t worry.”
A muscle jerks in his jaw and he nods, a stiff shift of his head before he brings his face closer to mine. “Behave yourself and I will make it all worth your while.”
I trap a groan in my throat seconds before it can escape my lips.
Just those simple words set my bloodstream on fire. I resent the ease with which he can do that, and yet not enough – not enough to stamp out the excitement spreading through me like a live voltage of electricity.
“I make no promises,” I say with a tight smile. It’s a joke, but he’s clearly not in a mood for jokes. He leans closer to me.
“I mean it, Amy. There is much at stake here.”
My heart rolls through me. “I’m aware of that. I was just kidding around. Of course I’m going to do what I can to show a unified front with you.” I pull back so I can see his eyes. “Does it occur to you that you’re asking me to trust you and support you when you clearly have no intention of returning the favour?”
“Trusting you is not part of my plan.” He moves away from me, knocking on the window. Less than a second later the door is opened, the heat blasting into the car, breaking me from the quiet, calm space we’d inhibited. It’s emblematic of our relationship. He’s said his piece and so ended the conversation, never mind if I had more to say. Frustration spreads through me, but I don’t have time to explore it right now. The door is open, the world is out there.
It’s showtime.
I had no expectations for the day, but the moment I step from the car and see the village elders who’ve come to meet us, I relax. Far from an uptight collection of dignitaries, this is far more familiar somehow, and comforting. We’re taken to a large hall, built from stone with enormous windows and a high ceiling. Everyone we pass stares at me, so I’m grateful that for once I took Aliya’s advice and wore the gown she’d suggested – a simple tunic style dress with long sleeves that falls to the floor. It is beautiful, regal and yet somehow ties in with the clothing these people wear.
Two thrones stand at the top of the room, with several smaller seats – still grand, carved from what looks to be wood with ivory details – are spaced around them.
In deference, I presume, to me, they speak in English. “You are very welcome,” one man says, bowing low then standing. “May I?” His hands reach for mine and I nod without understanding his intention. He simply takes them in his and squeezes, his eyes sparkling with the authenticity of his smile. “Do you remember me?”
I startle, the fact I’ve met him before like a lightning bolt. I study his face, looking for some detail that might spark a memory in my mind, but find none. “I’m sorry, no. I left a long time ago.”
His laugh is a cackle, hollowed by age. “You were just a girl,” he agrees. “You used to come to card games and run around the table, looking at what we held in our hands.” Something bubbles through my blood. “You would eat alum habi until I thought you would be sick, then lie down in the corner and sleep for hours. It was a delight to know you then, your highness, as it is to welcome you back.”
