THREE
The ride back to the palace was tense and uncomfortable. Exhausted by the emotion of it, I tried to pass the time staring out the window, watching the glittering, faraway desert dunes on the outskirts of the city. Under the moonlight, they shone like beautiful mountains of white diamonds.
Omar and his brother had been shocked by their mother’s decree. Mirah had spent the rest of the evening mingling with her birthday guests, while Sajid had swept up his wife and daughters before the family left early in their limo. Omar had tried to enjoy himself, but I could tell he was deeply rattled by the row, stuck in his own mind. Jada must have noticed it, too; she wasn’t as cheerful as she had been, and seemed resentful of the fact that Omar was no longer fawning over her.
Her disappointment only seemed to increase when the motorcade stopped to drop her outside her penthouse apartment. Perhaps she had been expecting an invitation back to the Sheikh’s palace—or his bedroom; I have to admit that I felt a rush of schadenfreude at the forlorn expression on her face.
Omar followed Jada out of the limo and Rafiq and I waited in awkward silence as he escorted her back up to her penthouse. When Omar returned, all pretense of happiness had dropped from his face. He was angry. I heard it in his voice when he told Abdul to drive on.
I stared at Omar as he gazed out the window, deep in thought. I wanted desperately to comfort him. But I couldn’t quite bring myself to move to sit next to him.
Truthfully, I needed to be comforted myself. As a trauma doctor, being in tense situations was nothing new, but there was something vastly different about a royal family in the middle of a heated succession problem. Queen Mirah’s proclamation only made things more urgent for Omar. Sajid already had a wife, and was probably trying to produce his male heir as we sat in the limo. Omar had much more work ahead of him, and now his clock was ticking even faster.
I wasn’t sure I could stand to be here for the day he introduced me to a beautiful woman who was pregnant with his child. As his physician, I would become her doctor, too. I would be responsible for her health, and for ensuring the health of the heir of Al-Thakri. I would have to smile while I watched the man I loved create life with some other woman.
I glanced over at Omar, who was too busy in his own thoughts to notice me looking. My heart broke as I realized that I didn’t have the strength to do it; I couldn’t stay there, loving him from afar. I had to quit. I had to leave this place before the heartache of it killed me.
I spend the rest of the limo ride trying to hold back my tears. Like some prophet, Rafiq gave me glances that said he could tell what was going on beneath the surface, but I ignored him.
The motorcade passed the palace gates and wound up the asphalt roads to the rear of the palace. The place was ancient, built long before cars existed, and there was no driveway to take us to the front. Constructing one would have ruined the gorgeous beauty of the symmetrical front walk, dotted with palm trees, water features, and gorgeous blooming flowers. The modern features had been built behind the palace, so the ancient façade could obscure the modern necessities.
Omar stepped out first, with Rafiq following behind. As I stepped out into the semi-darkness, a strong hand was offered to me. I looked up to see Omar waiting next to the limo door with a soft smile on his face, the first I’d glimpsed since his mother had made her announcement.
I returned it shyly and accepted his hand, feeling the electric shock in my heart that I felt whenever we touched.
“Well,” Omar said, offering his arm to me as the valet closed the limo door. “That evening did not turn out as I expected.”
I took his arm gently and he walked us under the stone canopy towards the door. For a moment, I felt like I could be his queen.
“I don’t know, most birthday parties I go to end with an enormous, life-changing decree.”
Omar laughed in relief. It felt good to see him laugh. His whole face lit up when he did. “It sounds like your customs must be even stranger than ours.”
“Just more dramatic,” I replied teasingly. “And that’s saying a lot.” I pointed to the giant, gilded statues of sphinxes, erected by Omar’s ancestors, guarding the palace doors, and he laughed again.
“Mother is usually very even-handed, but I think she’s reached the end of her patience,” he sighed.
“Seems that way,” I agreed. “I can’t really blame her, though. Ruling a country must be hard even when you’ve always expected to end up doing it—I can’t imagine being thrust into power the way she’s been.”
“It has been hard on her. All the more reason it’s important that this heir situation gets remedied, and quickly.”
Talk of Omar’s heir made me clam up, suddenly uncomfortable. He must have noticed, because he looked at me curiously for a moment before he spoke again. “It’s been a funny old night. How would you feel about a nightcap?”
I wanted to say no. I wanted to return to my private suite and end the evening alone, probably crying in my giant bathtub as I figured out how to pen my resignation letter. But I couldn’t resist spending time with him, even if it hurt.
The palace hallways were quiet, most of the staff having gone home or retreated to their own quarters for the night. Only the night guards were alert, positioned evenly throughout the hallways and at the entrances, politely ignoring us as we sauntered slowly by.
Omar led us to his library, one of my favorite rooms, where the walls were two stories high and one had to use a ladder to get to the topmost books on the shelves. He poured us both a glass of brandy from the collection of bottles at the bar in the corner.
“Cheers,” he said and clinked my glass.
“Cheers.” I smiled back and took a sip, feeling the warmth melting down my throat.
After a few moments of silence, Omar asked me, “You seem lost in your thoughts tonight, Carrie. Is everything all right?”
The question startled me and I cleared my throat. “Lost is about right. I just have a lot on my mind, I guess.”
“May I ask what?”
I gave a nervous little laugh. “Don’t you have enough on your plate without worrying about my problems?”
“You’re my trusted doctor, and you live in my palace. Your problems are my problems.”
I blushed. He never said things like that to the other staff members, even though I know he did care about them. Unlike the rumors and stories everyone has heard about how powerful people treat the people who work for them, I hadn’t experienced anything like that in Al-Thakri. The Sheikh treated everyone with respect, and never yelled even when he was angry.
It was just that he seemed to treat me a little differently; he paid me just a bit more attention than anyone else—something that made my heart flutter to think about. I tried to tell myself it was nothing, but my heart wouldn’t listen.
I stalled with another sip of brandy. “I don’t know… I’ve just been thinking a lot, lately… about my place here.”
Omar frowned, his face darkening. He stepped closer to me. “What do you mean? Are you not happy with your quarters, or your salary? You know you can discuss those things with me if something is bothering you.”
“No, no, it’s not that,” I answered, shaking my head. “My room is a palace unto itself, and the pay is incredible. I just…” My words faded out as I scrambled for a believable excuse. This wasn’t the way I intended on delivering the news, but the words rose in my throat before I could do anything to stop them. “I think I need to resign,” I blurted out. “I’m not… I’m not sure I can stay here and be your physician anymore.”
The look on Omar’s face broke my heart, as much as it took me by surprise. His shoulders slumped. “Carrie, is this true? You want to leave me?”
I sighed. “It’s… it’s not that. I’m just not sure I’m cut out for this. It’s been six months, and I still don’t feel any more… comfortable. I’m a trauma physician; my place is somewhere more violent and desperate than between your palace walls. Besides, it’s not like
you really need a doctor around you all the time. You never get sick or hurt. To be honest, I feel like I’m withering away here.”
“But what happens if I do need you by my side one day? Anything could happen. My father’s heart attack hit him suddenly, even with his healthy diet and lifestyle. Who will be here to help me if you leave?”
“You can hire another doctor,” I said, laughing hollowly. “There are hundreds of qualified applicants, probably many of them already in your country. There has to be someone who would better enjoy this quiet life than me.” Someone who is not steadily falling in love with her employer and threatening to ruin her whole life over it.
Omar fell silent. He moved away from me and collapsed tiredly into one of the brown leather reading chairs, downing his brandy in one big gulp.
The silence grew between us and made the tension in my chest even worse. Did he want me to leave the room? Did this mean my employment was officially over? I stood there, frozen like a statue, waiting for him to react.
Omar took a deep breath and finally spoke, but the words that came out of his mouth were not those I expected to hear. “What if I made you a different offer?”
I blinked. “A different offer? Like what, more money? As I said, the pay is more than generous… It’s more that I just want to feel like I’m actually needed for something. Like I have a purpose. I have skills I’m not using here.”
Omar rubbed his lips, as if he were nervous—something I’d only seen him do once or twice. He was not a man who got nervous very often.
When he looked up at me, there was emotion in his eyes that was crushing and heavy. “Well, allow me to explain, and maybe there will be purpose enough in this offer for you. Though I ask you to keep the details of this conversation between us.”