“What?” Lauren didn’t know where to begin. “First of all, you can’t just rescind an invitation, Zafir. That smacks of arrogance.”
“I’m the ruler of Behraat. I’m entitled to arrogance.”
Her mouth twitched, her breath went all wonky from trying not to laugh. She wanted to kiss him for making her laugh so easily. And she had a feeling he had intended it. But she refused to be railroaded into anything, even though she was never going to discuss her marriage with her mother ever again.
She sighed, realizing she had to fight his autocratic dictate for the principle of it.
“Second, you can’t just decide that I won’t ever see her again. Or anyone else for that matter.”
“Why would you want to? It is clear that they care little for your happiness and well-being. And you’re not in a condition to deal with stress like this. Nor will you while I have something to say about it.”
“They’re still my parents, Zafir. Your father didn’t even tell you you were his son until he needed a better crown prince. And yet, here you are, doing everything you can to hold Behraat together by its seams.”
She thought he would get furious with her for bringing up that subject. At the least, tell her she wasn’t allowed to bring it up. Or withdraw.
Instead, he seemed thoughtful. And that he let her in just that much made her miserable day a thousand times brighter.
“It’s ingrained in me, in my very blood that I must do everything I can to ensure Behraat’s prosperity. My father needed no big gestures or promises of wealth to earn my loyalty.
“He molded me into his weapon with mere words. I’ve never met another such great orator. I would attend classes during the day, train with the palace guard in the evenings, but the nights...they had always been my favorite part of the day.
“For he would summon me to his parlor when he was ready for dinner. He would tell me stories of great battles, tales of warrior men who gave up everything for their nation, for their tribe, of armies marching into battle for freedom. And a nine-year-old boy who has no family...he begins to breathe those stories. Begs to hear one more, swears his loyalty, his very blood in exchange for one more.
“To survive, he needs to believe that he’s part of something much bigger than his concerns. In the end, there’s nothing else left of him except trying to make the tale into reality.”
A tremendous sadness filled Lauren for the boy he’d been, for the flash of raw longing she glimpsed in his eyes. And a burning rage for the man who’d so heartlessly turned him into this...this man who believed that there was nothing to him than serving Behraat.
That he was nothing more than a tool to be used for his country. That there was no reason or need for him to want for anything more.
“Zafir? Whatever you believed then, it’s—”
“It’s a conditioning I can’t defeat in this life.” Absolute, implacable, his gaze warned her to not try, his belief an impenetrable wall she couldn’t breach.
And how she ached to reach him...
“But in your case, I’m here to change it. So I forbid you from even speaking to her.”
“Forbid?” She should have been furious, yet Lauren could only laugh. Could only marvel at how easily he had turned the whole thing around on her again.
Walking around the sitting area, she poked him in the chest. “You can’t forbid me from stuff. In fact, we must remove it from our marriage dictionary. I’m going to be your wife, Zafir, not your servant.”
“Marriage dictionary?” His eyes had turned molten, humor lurking in their depths.
“Yes.” She held out her fingers and counted them, “Forbid, order, train etc. Can’t be in there.”
His gaze swept over her face, her breasts barely hidden from that overpowering male gaze in a thin, cotton henley, already feeling heavy and achy. Settled on her mouth. “Do I get to add some words to it, too? Like things I’ve begged for but was denied in those two months? Like a—”
She swatted at him, laughing and giggling, knowing how his wicked mind worked.
He sighed dramatically and every cell in her sang with dizzy joy. “What is in this dictionary then?”
“Laughter.”
She had no idea when he had moved close enough that her breasts rubbed against that hard chest. She shuddered just as a growl rumbled from his throat. “I like the sound of that, habeebti.”
She placed one hand on his chest to feel his heart and clasped his cheek with the other. “Affection. Respect.”
His arrogant head bowed as if in reverence, his shuddering exhale caressing her face. She had the strangest feeling that he was hiding his expression from her. Hard shoulders relaxed under her tentative touch. His fingers crawled around her nape then.