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They were in shock. Ahmed could see it as his mother’s eyes slowly slipped from her son to the beautiful woman next to him.
Then came the anger.
“What is this harlot doing here?” his mother demanded, rage overtaking her normally soft, bright features.
“She is not—!” Ahmed began, but his father was not about to let him get a word in to defend himself.
“You were out all night!” boomed his father, who stepped towards Ahmed and brushed aside the guard he’d been lecturing as though he were but an annoying fly. “Without a single guard! How is this appropriate behavior for the future Sheikh?”
“How can you bring her here? To our home!” Aisha continued, her eyes livid.
“What if something had happened to you?”
“She is a beggar!”
“My only son! My only heir!”
“She only wants your money!”
Squeezing Keisha’s hand tighter, Ahmed had finally had enough. His voice boomed out, ringing throughout the hall and causing all bodies within it to freeze. “ENOUGH!”
Silence filled the large room. Out of the corner of his eye, Ahmed caught sight of his three nosy older sisters lingering near the doorway. They, too, were silent and frozen, though it was more out of a desire to get information on Ahmed and his lovely woman rather than out of any respect or fear of Ahmed.
In the end, they were still older and he would always be the baby in their eyes.
Sucking in a sharp breath, Ahmed tugged Keisha to him, holding her close and he puffed out his chest, holding his chin high to show his parents that he was not afraid. Which was mostly a lie, but he was determined to keep Keisha in his life and as his wife. They could not stop him.
“This is Keisha Singh,” he introduced her. Then, his eyes slipping from his parents, he turned to Keisha and smiled at her tenderly. He corrected himself a moment later. “Keisha Kandalama. My wife.”
His mother fainted.
Chapter Five
Keisha could not say what it was she had expected from Ahmed’s parents, but she had assumed it would not be welcoming. When Ahmed had insisted that they march to the palace that morning and show her to his family, well, she had been more than a little nervous. The idea of confronting his whole family seemed intimidating in and of itself, but then to add in that they had been married in secret the night before?
It would be madness.
And it had been. His mother had fainted. His father had roared profanities and insults and thrown contradicting orders all around until no one was quite sure what he wanted them to do. In the end, everyone was ordered out of the great hall save for the Sheikh, his wife (who was still fainted on the floor), and the couple. Even Ahmed’s sisters—three of them, all lovely, older, and with matching glares on their faces—were ordered away until a later date.
Keisha was not stupid enough to assume she might receive some sort of kindness from them either.
When the hall was empty, Ahmed and his father stared each other down fiercely, their eyes fighting a silent war as their bodies stood rigid as stones. Eventually, it was the Sheikh who actually broke their stare first, surprising Keisha.
He turned away and went to kneel beside his wife, stroking her face gently. She was breathing evenly and was clearly all right, but he wanted to be sure. His care of her was touching to Keisha and gave her hope that, perhaps, the softness towards his wife might be enough to melt his hatred of Keisha.
It was a foolish hope, but it was all she had.
When Ahmed’s mother was finally up again, they all took seats around a giant table. It had a polished, marbled surface that was more beautiful than anything Keisha had ever seen. And it was only a table. The whole palace was that way since the moment she stepped foot inside it. The floors were bright white and the columns were decorated like golden flowers at the bases. Out front there were gardens that spilled out for what seemed like miles, filled with bright colors that Keisha longed to spend the day staring at.
Beautiful. So beautiful.
Everything was. Even the people. The guards were tall and proud. The Sheikh was regal. His wife was undoubtedly lovely. Even Ahmed’s sisters with their deep scowls were lovely.
And then there was Keisha. She was very quickly beginning to decide that she had no business being there. None at all.
Across the table at the other end, Ahmed’s father sat stonily, his wife clutching his hand tightly atop the marbled table. She looked pale still after her fainting spell, but otherwise just seemed… hopeless. As though she was staring at the image of her dead son, rather than the living one who had just announced his marriage.
“This is my father,” Ahmed introduced into the cold silence, because he must have realized that neither of his parents were going to encourage conversation. “Sheikh Itamar Kandalama. Beside him sits his wife, my mother, Aisha Kandalama. My sisters are as of yet not present, but I will introduce you to them later.”
