The Sheikh’s Stubborn Bride by Leslie North
16
Kadir’s transfer of power ceremony should have been a day of triumph. He’d completed all his briefings with his father to ensure a smooth transition. He’d studied for, worked toward, meditated on this day his entire life. But somehow, it all rang hollow.
He checked his reflection in the mirror of the dressing room one last time, smoothing his hand down the black robe with the gold trim he was wearing for the occasion. On his head was a traditional white keffiyeh with a black cord holding it in place. His beard had been neatly trimmed, but there were circles under his eyes. He hadn’t been sleeping much since the fight with Stella. A quiet knock sounded on the door, and his aide politely peeked his head in. It was time. After a deep breath, Kadir followed the man from the dressing room into the grand ballroom. It was filled with people, government officials and dignitaries from around the world, but his gaze zeroed in on only one.
Stella.
Kadir felt a million conflicting emotions as the sight of her and he struggled to keep his expression from revealing any of them. They’d not had much interaction at all since the night two weeks ago when he’d walked out on her at the planetarium. She’d moved out of their suite into a smaller guest room down the hall, and they rarely saw each other. She worked on her games in a new office downstairs. He attended meeting after meeting with his father and other government advisors. At this point they were living separate lives.
Now, he feared today was truly the end.
After the ceremony, Stella would leave the palace to stay at the family’s summer house with Naziha, and he likely wouldn’t see her again for a long while, if ever. He had no idea where their marriage would go from here, but wherever it was, it wouldn’t be good. They should talk before she left, but he wasn’t sure what to say anymore. Right now, though, he needed to focus on the ceremony and his role in it to ensure the transfer of power was properly completed. He’d have to find time to discuss things with Stella afterward.
The ceremony opened with the playing of the Al-Fatha national anthem, and he slowly made his way up the long aisle, nodding along the way to people he recognized in the crowd, until he reached the front of the ballroom where his father and the top government officials waited. His Stella was there too, looking beautiful in a white gown and seated in the front row with his siblings. An imam read a few passages from the Koran; Kadir took his oaths of office—it wasn’t unlike a wedding, he realized. Thankfully, he’d memorized his responses, because it all passed in a bit of a blur. Then his father shook Kadir’s hand, thus passing the power and the reign over Al-Fatha on to his eldest son. The gathered crowd erupted in brief applause.
He turned, faced the people—his people now more than ever—and began his speech.
He'd memorized this too, though he had his notes, just in case. He discussed his plans for the country and the capital city, announcing what he believed would be the crown jewel in his new city—a technology hub, a research and innovation park, a cutting-edge laboratory space for computer science and medical research—that would form the heart of the new commercial district.
The audience applauded, but it was hardly a standing ovation. Kadir cleared his throat as he gazed out at the crowd. He’d expected to feel pride, glory, excitement at the announcement of all his grand schemes. Instead, he just felt empty inside. He hazarded a glance at Stella; she had a wooden smile carefully in place on her pretty face. She gave him a small nod of acknowledgment, but he missed how she used to take his hand and squeeze it in a show of solidarity and strength. That was over now, and he had only himself to blame.
The rest of the ceremony passed quickly, and soon he found himself at the reception in the large state dining room. The elite of Al-Fatha milled about, and Kadir and Stella were both expected to stay and socialize. She did so without him, sticking to her side of the room while he stuck to his. Part of him wanted to say to hell with it and push through the crowds to get to her and pull her aside for their discussion. But the other part of him was too well-trained in state protocol to do such a thing. So he stayed and chitchatted and shook hands, though if someone had asked him later who he’d talked to or what he’d said, he couldn’t have told them. A few brave souls even used the reception as an opportunity to pitch him new business ideas, though he brushed those off as best he could, referring them to his office assistant to set up appointments at more appropriate times.
A few of his guests seemed to pick up on the uncomfortable vibe between him and Stella, many checking their phones and watches as if wondering when they could leave. Several turned away to strike up other conversations when Kadir arrived as if they wanted to avoid speaking with him. It was odd. Most of the time, people couldn’t wait to speak with their king, but not today.
By the time the reception had wound down and Kadir got a moment to search for Stella, she was gone. His heart sank. He’d hoped to speak to her before she left, to hear her voice one more time, but it was as if she’d disappeared off the face of the Earth. He asked his father if he’d seen her, only to be told Stella had left with his sister half an hour earlier.
Things were winding down, but still he needed to see to the few remaining guests. It was his duty as king to ensure his people were happy and well taken care of, especially those he’d invited into his home. The sooner he got used to it, the better. The constant work, the need to put others’ feelings and concerns before his own. His life and time no longer belonged to him. They belonged to the country of Al-Fatha. There were people left to greet, but knowing Stella was gone left him feeling more alone than he’d ever been before.
