8 Zain

8

Zain

“What is that you are staring at, boy?” 

I smiled at my jadati (grandmother) who slowly walked towards the dining room. I held her hand as she was seated in a chair, her dark brown eyes fixing on the beautiful piece of jewelry. 

“Hmm,” she grunted. “Are you asking someone for marriage?” 

“No,” I said. “I, uh, found this in a drawer of the hotel room. It seemed too precious to let the hotel staff handle it. We are trying to find the owner and return it.” 

I half lied, praying she wouldn’t pick up on it and pinch my ears. 

“I have seen a similar piece. This looks just like that with the emerald.”

My heart rate picked up. “Where, jadati?” 

She eyed the maang tikka and looked at me. “Sultana of Maahnoor used to wear it back when your father and Hamid Elbaz were friendly neighbors rather than enemies.”

I clenched my jaw thinking about Maahnoor, our neighboring country. Once, a decade ago, it used to be famous for its beautiful sunsets, shimmering palace, sweet foods and jewelry with intricate designs like the one I held. But that was before Hamid Elbaz became corrupted, ruling it, taking the name of Maahnoor to shreds. 

I shook off the animosity between Azmia and Maahnoor and asked my grandmother, “If Sultana wore it, then it must have been kept in the palace?” 

I looked at the jewelry again. Was the woman in gold truly the owner of a royal heirloom? 

“Rumor has it that she gave it to her daughter before she passed away,” Grandma tsked, shaking her head. “Poor daughter was left alone in that palace with her three brothers and Hamid. I wonder what she is doing nowadays.” 

“You mean the Princess?” 

“Who else, boy? That maang tikka belongs to Princess Nasrin Elbaz of Maahnoor,” she said. “You better return it to her, ignoring the animosity between the two countries for this instant. It must be very dear to her.” 

Princess Nasrin…

My heart fell to my stomach as I stared in horror at the emerald diamond and the golden jewelry. It belonged to the Princess of Maahnoor, daughter of Hamid Elbaz. My father’s nemesis, that meant my nemesis. My country’s nemesis.

I certainly couldn’t have picked a better partner to have sex with, even if I wanted.

***

“Are you sure they do not have any weapons with them?” Zayed, my brother’s close friend and the Sheikh of Azmia, asked Rahim in a weary tone. 

It had been a week since I’d learned that the maang tikka belonged to Princess Nasrin and I may have slept with her. Without protection. 

I had invited Hamid Elbaz, her father, and the Princess herself to the palace for a meeting. A meeting was not the term my advisor, Rahim, would use. He made sure it seemed more like a talk for marriage between me and Nasrin. I had scoffed at that idea. I could never marry someone from Maahnoor, let alone their princess. The reason was my annoyance towards Hamid Elbaz and the current Sultan of Maahnoor, his eldest son, who was accused of sexual harassment towards a young man.

Also, there was that little hatred brimming between our two countries. I didn’t know the details of what happened between my father and her father, but it was enough to make me aware that if I married Nasrin, people would talk. Wondering why I bothered to marry a princess from Maahnoor when I was getting marriage proposals from far better countries. 

I couldn’t marry her. As the Sultan of Azmia, I had to think of the future of my country. 

That was also the reason I couldn’t allow Princess Nasrin to turn that night into a scandal. Tell the public that Zain Al Latif was a clumsy drunk in bed and forgot to use protection. It would embarrass me and my entire family. 

No, I couldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t let that happen. 

“Zayed, stand down,” I said, straightening my suit. The golden embroidery on the lapels shimmered under the lights of the chandelier, in contrast against the dark onyx color of the suit. “It’s just me and the Princess talking. Nothing else. Rahim said he would take care of her father or I will propose a walk in the gardens.”

“Secure more guards in the garden—” Zayed ordered the guard present in my room as I scowled at my reflection. 

“You’re overthinking this,” I said, sliding my family ring, a silver band around a dark cobalt diamond, on my right ring finger. I checked if the dagger was in place around my hip, sheathed and well hidden under the suit. It was for extra protection, even though I wished I wouldn’t need to use it. 

“They’re here, Sultan,” Rahim knocked on the open door of my room, tilting his head. 

Taking a deep breath, I followed my advisor to the mahogany doors of a private library. The guards stationed outside opened the doors for us and I prowled inside. My stance relaxed even though my muscles were tight with tension. 

My mouth turned dry when my eyes landed on the Princess. Her thick dark hair tumbled over her sun-kissed arms, her sharp face staring in my direction, her honeyed eyes pinned on me. They looked amused. Her red lips—the ones that I had kissed—curling at the corner. Despite that, I found Nasrin enchanting. A true beauty. Dressed in a shimmering golden gown.   

The woman in gold was not a dream. She was real. I had kissed her. 

Curse me. I wanted to kiss her again. Wipe that smug look off her face and pin her across the plush settee she sat on and kiss her. Mark her like some wild animal. 

Just for a few moments, I wished our countries were not enemies so that I could propose marriage to her. 

I am going insane.

Controlling my hormones, I smiled at her, ignoring her father, who sat on the armchair, frowning at me for not addressing him while Rahim gave our introductions. 

“Sultan Zain, it’s an honor to meet you,” Hamid Elbaz lied, bowing his head when I stepped closer to the table covered in sweets for our guests. When Nasrin didn’t avert her eyes from me to introduce herself, her father hissed her name. 

I didn’t miss the little note of disgust in his voice when he addressed her so brazenly in front of me. Interesting, a father who had a strong dislike towards his daughter. I could see why Salman Al Latif was a good friend with him before their rivalry.

Nasrin stood up, her dress swishing with each move when she bowed. “Honor to meet you, Sultan Zain,” she said in her husky, smooth voice, as if she was caressing my cheek with her hand.

I stepped closer, the hint of fresh jasmine and a heady feminine scent wafting in my nose when I bowed, taking her palm in mine and gently brushing my lips over her knuckles. 

“Pleasure is mine, Princess Nasrin,” I whispered, rolling out her name on my tongue. Despite my deep-rooted values, I wanted to whisper her name, hear her gasping against mine when my fingers were deep inside her—

We both blinked when her father cleared his throat, displeasure written all over his face. I pulled away, the loss of her warm touch burning my palm as I slid my hand in my pocket. My fingers brushing over the cool jewelry.

There was so much tension hovering between us, that I was both afraid and excited to give us both some privacy. And ask her whether we used protection. 

I asked her, “Would you like to take a walk with me in the gardens?” 

“I don’t think she should—”

I glared at Hamid Elbaz. “I asked Princess Nasrin. Not you.”

He looked at me as if I thought of him like a piece of dirt on my shoe. “I was talking—”

“I can speak for myself, baba,” Nasrin said, her eyes fleeting between her angered father and me. “I would love to walk with you, Sultan Zain. Please lead the way.”