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His mother.
She could still hardly believe it. She was a mother.
Grace lifted Zarif up, holding the back of his head and bounced him up and down, smiling at him. Zarif's eyes brightened, immediately sensing Grace's happiness. For a few delightful moments, the eyes of mother and son met in a bright, joyous dance.
From behind, Grace heard the laughter of her principal servant, Anya. Grace turned and smiled at the young, elegant Qazhar woman who had been such a help to Grace this past year. A momentous year in every possible respect.
"You don't think he's going to be too warm in this outfit, do you, Anya?" Grace asked.
Anya shook her head. "No. I don't think it is going to as warm today as it was yesterday," she replied.
Grace was glad to hear that. Even after a year of living in the palace, she was still trying to get used to judging how the climate in this hot country could affect her and the baby.
"That's a relief." Grace stood, holding Zarif carefully in her arms, looking down at him. Still, Zarif wouldn't stop smiling at her. She knew she'd never tire of seeing that smile, she told herself.
Grace walked across the sitting room toward the opendoors which led out onto the terrace. It was early morning, and the sun was already bright. She stepped out carefully and halted a few steps away from the balustrade. She gazed out across the garden, savoring the instant sense of peace she felt. Grace heard the soft sound of the sprinklers casting moisture across the wide, green lawn.
She glanced to her left and saw some servants erecting a canopy over a few long tables. She smiled, anticipating what would happen later in the day. It was going to be a big day for Zarif, she reflected.
The day had come for him to be officially brought into the Al Shirah family. The brief ceremony would be attended by close family members. It was a ritual which was a long standing family tradition.
It was similar to baptism back home in the States, Grace reflected. Only there would be no anointing with water. There would be words spoken out loud, words which Qazim had told Grace every child in their family had had spoken over them for centuries.
It sounded alien to Grace, but she knew it was important, knew that it would make Zarif a true Al Shirah.
Grace sighed contentedly and gazed out into the distance. The desert was bright and golden in the early morning sun. Right now, she didn't want to be anywhere except here, she realized.
This had been one of Grace's favorite rituals these past few weeks. Now that Zarif had begun to settle during the night, she loved nothing more than waking early, getting him fed and ready and then spending blessed hours with him.
It wasn't just these hours that felt blessed, Grace reflected. Her entire life in the palace felt truly blessed, like a gift from destiny that had been handed to her, in spite of her every effort to refuse it, to turn her back on a future with Qazim, and now, Zarif.
Grace breathed in deeply, savoring the scents of the garden. Beside her, Anya stood quietly and patiently, like always. She was a wonderful assistant. Always ready to help, never complaining.
Zarif responded really well to Anya. The young woman had made it so much easier for Grace to adjust to life in the palace when she'd been carrying Zarif. And now, Anya had become indispensable when it came to attending to Zarif's needs.
Thanks to Anya, Grace had been able to regain her strength after the birth of the baby. Thanks to Anya, Grace had been able to sleep. Even if Zarif looked like he never wanted his mother to get a whole nights sleep!
For a while, Grace just stood on the terrace, enjoying the simple pleasure of sharing these precious moments with Zarif. She thought about the decision she'd almost made a year ago, and felt a slight shiver up her spine.
She had been so foolish! She had almost given this up.
Grace rocked Zarif gently in her arms. There was a breath of wind from the garden. Instinctively, she held him closer, as if to protect him from the warm breeze. All she wanted to do from now on was make sure Zarif was safe and happy.
That wasn't too much to ask for, was it?
She thought about how she'd almost walked out on Qazim forever.
That would have been an act of idiocy from which she would never have recovered.
And what about Qazim?
Her husband of exactly one year, now.
Today was their anniversary. One year to the day since they'd exchanged vows down there in the garden. One year since they'd come upstairs and forged an agreement to avoid intimacy.
As if sensing Grace's sudden tension, Zarif shifted in her arms. She rocked him gently, whispering soft words to him. He settled immediately and Grace turned to Anya. "Could you take him for a few minutes?" she asked. "Maybe you could take him inside."
"Of course," Anya said, smiling broadly and reaching out to take Zarif. Grace placed Zarif carefully in Anya's arms. The young woman walked slowly back into the sitting room.Grace watched Anya, appreciating the instant care the woman took with Zarif.
