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‘So long as it won’t cause any problems, if people were to see Tora with me, only for her to subsequently disappear?’
Kareem looked unabashed as he weighed the air with his big hands. ‘This will not be a problem. In past years, our people are used to seeing our Emir with any one of a number of consorts, and frankly they would be more surprised to think you were unmarried.’
‘Excellent,’ said Rashid, rubbing his hands together as he found his first smile for the day. Maybe a day out with him would prove to her he was not the sullen, resentful and miserable monster she had painted him. Maybe if they could be friends first, they could be more... ‘Now, where were we?’
* * *
Tora was enjoying a day of sheer girly fun. It started in the morning, with Yousra giving her a tour of the various gardens of the palace and around the pools and fountains where the lush foliage and flowers and sprays of water combined to turn the air deliciously cool and fragrant while tiny birds darted from bush to bush. It was exotic and different and serene. And after her tense breakfast with Rashid, Tora felt that serenity seep into her bones and she could breathe again.
Just when she thought it couldn’t get any better or more beautiful, Yousra showed her to the secret garden, hidden away in a courtyard and thick with trees and palms that gave way to a lily pond where small ducklings paddled. And there tucked away in the centre like a gift-wrapped jewel stood a square pavilion with ivory-coloured columns and red balustrade with a tiled roof and white curtains for walls that billowed gently from on high.
‘It’s beautiful,’ she said, cursing the inadequacy of the description as Yousra smiled, waiting for her reaction. It was like something from a fairy tale that became more so as two peacocks emerged from the foliage and quietly wandered away. Tora was entranced by it all. ‘What is it?’
‘It is called the Pavilion of Mahabbah and was built by Emir Haalim when his favourite wife died. This was her favourite courtyard, you see. And he had loved her so much he had named her after the Qajarese word for love—mahabbah. It is said he filled this pool with his tears. Come,’ she said, leading the way. ‘I have arranged us to take tea there.’
‘So it is the pavilion of love,’ Tora said a few minutes later as she sat on one of the low sofas, thinking how appropriate it was, how romantic and how tragic, imagining the Emir standing between the curtains, looking out over the pond and remembering his beloved wife. Beside her on the rug on the floor, Atiyah played under a baby gym, kicking her legs as she swatted at the hanging toys above her with her little hands. ‘He must have really loved her.’
Yousra nodded. ‘The heart of a Qajarese Emir is worth the hearts of ten men. And it is said the Emir loves ten times truer.’
Tora sipped her tea, not wanting to argue, but not entirely sure that was true for all the Emirs. Malik might have loved ten times as many as other men with his palaces full of harems, and then there was Rashid.
She wanted to believe Rashid had a heart. She hadn’t seen much evidence of it so far, but she so wanted it to be there, if only so his sister might grow up surrounded by love rather than indifference. And she wondered again about a man who’d let slip that his own childhood had been lacking. Something dreadful had happened to him, that much was clear, something bound up in a tortured history that had scarred him deeply and, if she wasn’t mistaken, was still hurting.
She shouldn’t care, she told herself. He was nothing to her but the means to fund a promise she’d made to her best friend. Nothing more to her than that—if she discounted one heated night of the best sex she’d ever had and one stolen kiss last night that she hadn’t wanted to end.
She really shouldn’t care.
And yet it was hard not to.
* * *
The afternoon provided a different kind of entertainment. There were just the three of them, Tora, Yousra and Atiyah, amidst a dressing room overflowing with the most amazing clothes Tora had ever seen.
Yousra sat holding Atiyah on the sofa at the end of the four-poster bed, as Tora turned model and tried on garment after garment to much applause and encouragement in between cups of honey tea and sweets made of nuts and dried figs, apricots and dates. Yousra advised her on which were more suitable for during the day, and which she might consider for night-time events like formal dinners.
How Kareem had pulled this off, Tora wondered as she slipped into another gown, she had no idea. They’d all been on their way to Qajaran when this whole mad marriage scheme had been contrived, so he would have had to have messaged ahead from the plane with his instructions.
