“I owe my father nothing. Nothing. And I’m not running away, I’m going to exercise my right as an adult and leave. Neither my father nor you can force me into a marriage that I don’t want, nor can you stop me from leaving.”
He took his hands away from her. Not trusting his actions even for a second, Zohra straightened from the wall. Her knees shook beneath her.
“Fine, leave,” he said, displeasure burning in his gaze. “But you leave your father no choice either except to announce my betrothal to your sister. I understand she will be eighteen in a year.”
Bile crawled up Zohra’s throat and pooled in her mouth. How dare he? “Sixteen and a half. My sister is sixteen and a half.”
Only silence met her outburst.
She covered the gap between them, fury eating away at reason. She pushed at him, powerless anger churning in her gut. Saira would never go against their father. She had been born and raised in Siyaad, exposed to nothing but the incessant chatter about duty and obligation despite Zohra’s presence.
“You cannot do that. She...I won’t let my father or you...”
She fisted her hands and let out the cry sawing at her throat.
There was nothing she could do to stop her father from promising Saira in her place. And he would, without blinking. Zohra knew firsthand the lengths to which her father could go for Siyaad.
Her chest felt as if there was a steel band around it, the shackles of duty and obligation sinking their claws into her.
“Saira is innocent, a teenager who still believes in love and happily ever after.”
“And you?”
“They do exist. Just not in this world, in your world. And I will do anything before I let Saira’s happiness be sacrificed in the name of duty.”
“So you’re not completely selfish then.” He moved closer. “What is this world that I belong to, Princess, to which you don’t?”
“It’s filled with duty, obligations, sacrifice...what else? If Saira marries you, you will shatter her illusions, bring her nothing but unhappiness. You would marry a mere girl in the name of duty?”
Disgust radiated from him. “The very thought of betrothal to a sixteen-year-old makes my skin crawl. But Siyaad needs this public alliance. Your father’s heart attacks in the last six months, your brother’s minor status, the latest skirmish at the border? It has made Siyaad weak. This wedding means that the world knows that Dahaar stands by Siyaad. It’s the best chance your father, your people, have of retaining their identity. If something should happen to your father, your brother will have our protection.
“Knowing all this, you refuse this alliance? You risk your country’s future, your brother’s future by acting so recklessly?”
Zohra crumpled against the wall, the fight leaving her. She owed nothing to her father, nor to Siyaad. But Saira and Wasim...if not for them, she would have been so alone all these years. A stranger among her father’s people at thirteen—shattered by her mother’s death and the devastating truth that her father was not only alive, but that he was the sovereign of Siyaad and had a wife and six-year-old son and daughter.
If not for her brother and sister, she would have had nothing but misery. “I had no idea this would benefit Wasim.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
His derision felt like a stinging slap. But this was all her fault.
She had always made it her mission to learn as little as possible about the politics in Siyaad, she had rebuffed her father’s attempts to educate her, to make her active in the country’s politics. If she hadn’t sunk her head in the sand like an ostrich, she would have been better equipped to deal with this situation.
She ran a trembling hand over her forehead, shaking from head to toe. She was well and truly caught, all her hopes for a future separate from duty and obligation crumbling right before her eyes.
“If this is all for Siyaad’s benefit, why are you agreeing to this? You can snap your fingers and find a woman who will be your silent shadow. You clearly already dislike me. You can still refuse this, you can help Siyaad without—”
“Enough!” Bitterness rose up inside Ayaan, burning in his blood like a fire unchecked. He reveled in the anger, in the way it burned away the crippling fear that was always lurking beneath the surface eating away the weight of what his lucidity meant to him. “You think you are anything like the woman I would want to marry if it wasn’t for duty, if it wasn’t to repay the debt my father owes yours?” he said, filling his every word with the clawing anger he felt.
Every inch of color fled from her face and she looked as if he had struck her. And Ayaan crushed the little flare of remorse he felt.