The Sheik’s Expecting Bride by Erin Snihur
1
Princess Hasna al-Noor cannot help but shudder with worry as she watches her Uncle’s fists clench tightly together. He had dragged her into his study to watch as Sheik Kaleem al-Obeid and his wife, Sheikha Seline al-Obeid, stepped out of their private plane to greet the masses of citizens of Musat. Swallowing as best she could down her dry throat, Hasna turns her head away when Sheik Kaleem scoops up the couple’s young daughter and the little girl smiles widely as she waves her chubby toddler hand to the adoring crowd.
Hasna winces when the reporter croons, “Such a match has not been seen in Musat for many years. After a year of touring Musat and the surrounding countries as a newly married couple, the Sheik and Sheikha of Musat are welcomed home by hundreds of their adoring citizens and well-wishers.”
With a swift flick of his hand over the remote, Hasna’s uncle, Bandar al-Noor, turns to glare down upon her where she sits, trembling on the settee. The uncomfortable silence continues to grow and for a brief moment, Hasna manages to glance up and meet her father’s brother’s intense gaze. She instantly regrets it. The man’s face expands and flushes red as his mouth releases a string of curses and shouts. He throws the remote across the room and begins pacing, but all his hate-filled glares and curses seem directed at her.
Wincing at the furious mood her uncle is in, all because of a simple broadcast, Hasna jumps up from the safety of the plush couch and holds up her hands in an attempt to calm the older man.
“Uncle, please calm yourself. Your heart…” Her words die off when he spins around to face her fully.
His tan, almost leathery skin around his pudgy face seems to flap as he shouts back, “Forget my heart, what about you?”
Shrugging in confusion, Hasna asks back, “What about me, Uncle?”
“Sheik Kaleem has disgraced you, Hasna. Have you no idea what this means for us? For your people?”
She shakes her head, already feeling a headache coming on from having to discuss her people once again. “Uncle, our people are no longer citizens of Jazah, but citizens of Nilan. In fact, the Jazah Mountain’s nomadic tribes only exist because of my title.”
Then she adds with a whisper, mostly to herself, “I do not see how Sheik Kaleem has disgraced me.”
Uncle Bandar, having heard her as he takes an intimidating step her way, scoffs with a roll of his eyes, “Of course you do not see, you foolish girl.” Then he points at her. “I have worked tirelessly for many years to bring you to his attention and then he goes and replaces you with that American hack.”
“Uncle, she gave birth to his child…” Hasna begins to interject, but a final glare from Uncle Bandar silences her immediately.
Keeping her expression blank and turning her gaze downward submissively, Hasna focuses on her black hijab to ensure it is perfectly in place. As her hands drift away from her face and covered hair, her eyes latch onto the simple charm bracelet her mother had always worn before her death.
Eyes watering at the memory and the brief moment when her sea green eyes are staring back at her in the reflective silver of the chain, Hasna blinks rapidly to keep her tears at bay. It will do no good to cry in front of him, Hasna immediately implores her more sensitive half. Uncle Bandar hated crying or what he termed a sensitive nature. He preferred women to sit and be seen, but never heard or be known to show emotion. Something Hasna had difficulty with, considering she had been raised by her parents to do the exact opposite.
But they are not here now,the harsh thought drifts across her mind at the same moment another stabbing pain rushes to her heart, thanks to you.
Straightening her back as she attempts to force away those overwhelming memories as they come crashing down around her, Hasna murmurs hesitantly, “What would you have me do, Uncle?”
Pulling a piece of cardstock paper from his interior suit pocket, Uncle Bandar thrusts it into her face with a cluck of his tongue. Taking it carefully in her hands, Hasna unfolds it and gasps in shock as she reads the beautifully written invitation.
Glancing up at her uncle in confusion, Hasna asks, “Uncle, Sheik Kaleem is married now. You do not mean for me to break up his marriage, do you?”
He scoffs quickly and rolls his eyes, “Of course not, you foolish girl.” Then he sighs and taps a finger to the paper in her hands, “We will attend this masquerade Sheik Kaleem and his wife are hosting.” The way Uncle Bandar spits the word wife has Hasna’s stomach clenching with dread at the thought of attending with him and his contempt for the innocent woman becoming obvious.
“There, you will find a suitable match and if necessary, you will place yourself into a situation with a reputable match that cannot refuse to disgrace you.”
His words startle her out of her worry enough that Hasna protests quickly, “But Uncle, what if there isn’t a suitable match present?”
“There will be, I’m sure of it.” Then, he caresses him palm over his silvery, dark beard. “I have been informed by a reliable source that the guest list is extensive and filled with suitable bachelors. One of them might be able to overlook your lack of crown and mere title.”
Swallowing at the sting of his jab, Hasna nods and whispers, “Yes, Uncle.”
“Do not look so resigned, Hasna,” Uncle Bandar scolds and waves in her direction as he marches over to his desk where his glass of scotch waits. “That Prince of Nilan that you were always playing with as a young child will be there. What was his name? Nash something or other. A second son, no one of real consequence, but still a Prince.”
And my friend,Hasna inwardly snaps as she whispers, “Prince Nashat al-Rafiq, Uncle?”
At his nod as he pours himself another scotch straight from the half empty bottle on his desk, Hasna clutches the invitation tight in her hand. Staring down at the details and delicate design of the paper, she begins to smile once more.
It is a sign from the heavens. In a few days’ time, I will be in a ballroom with Nashat and my one chance at a night of freedom will finally come to pass.
* * *
Sheik Kamran al-Rafiqof Nilan had heard the discernable sounds of arguing coming from outside his ornate throne room. The banging of the throne room doors being swung open forced him to roll his eyes as his overly dramatic brother marches in, fuming mad with a piece of creme colored paper in his hands.
“What is the meaning of this, Kam?” Prince Nashat al-Rafiq shouts as he glares up at Kamran, who continues to calmly remain seated in his throne surrounded by a movable desk on wheels. At the bottom of the thrones dais, in a surrounding circle of desks and chairs, his council watches on with curiosity and general wariness as their eyes ping pong between the two brothers.
Nodding to his councilors, Kamran sighs. “That is all for now, gentlemen. It seems my brother is rather impatient today.”
Kamran’s advisor, Nasim, ushers the councilors out of the throne room as a few stragglers attempt to gather up their paperwork and other necessities before the doors of the throne room are once again closing. Silence deafening the room, Kamran raises an eyebrow at his brother’s casual appearance. Dressed in a simple t-shirt and swim trunks, his carefree brother appears every bit of the playboy bachelor the media had dubbed him.
When Nash’s patience runs out, he rolls his eyes and begins tapping his foot as he waves the paper around at Kamran once more. “What is the meaning of this, Kam?”
Shooting his brother a bored expression, Kamran mutters, “It is a piece of paper, Nash. I know you didn’t enjoy finishing school as much as I did, but at least try sometimes.”
“Very funny,” Nash mutters and then shoots Kamran a glare as he marches up the dais steps to throw the paper down on Kamran’s messy desk. “You know what I mean though, Kam. Why am I being invited as your plus one to some masquerade in Musat?”
Kamran only briefly glances at the paper before flicking it back in his brother’s direction. “I thought it would be good for you to put your hand in the family business.”
“Schmoozing with men and women who don’t give a flying fuck about the real world isn’t exactly what I call a good time.”
Rolling his eyes again at his brother’s language, Kamran stands and offers him an imploring glance. “Neither do I, but Kaleem is expecting us and it’s the first big event Seline is hosting.” Then Kamran smiles knowingly. “You like Seline, don’t you want her event to succeed?”
Nash sighs and runs a hand through his dark hair, an automatic gesture that he and Kamran had perfected almost like twins when they were younger. “Yes, I do, but can’t I just make a donation to whatever charity she is funding?”
Snorting, Kamran grins. “No, I already tried that.”
A ding from a cellphone suddenly goes off, interrupting the brothers’ chuckles, and both men reach for their phones, but it is Nash who instantly grins and brightens as he taps away at his cellphone.
“Maybe this party won’t be so lame after all,” Nash mutters mysteriously as he stares down at the handheld device.
“Why do you say that?” Kamran asks, setting his own phone aside so that he can begin organizing the papers on his desk.
“Hasna’s been invited.”
That one sentence is enough for Kamran to cease all thoughts regarding the papers before him or their contents. Swallowing the dryness that is suddenly taking over his throat, he subtly runs a hand over the stubble at his jaw.
“Princess Hasna?”
Nash chuckles, not seeming to notice Kamran’s raspy voice. “She hates that title. Isn’t Jazah technically ours now?”
Clearing his throat, Kamran shrugs. “I guess so.” His mind is jumbled and running rampant as images of a young girl growing in age flit through his mind until the final image of her drifts to the forefront of his mind. Shivering and wrapped in an emergency blanket as he delivered the most heartbreaking news he could have delivered to a girl he had once pined after as a teenager when she had still been five years his junior.
Get it together, a more controlled part of his brain orders and Kamran shakes his head as he manages to mutter, “What does she want with you?”
Nash shrugs again as he shoves his phone back into his swim trunks pocket and finally glances up at Kamran. “She just wanted to know what I would be wearing so she can find me in the crowd. Hasna hates big parties like this and might need someone to rescue her from the boring small talk.”
Kamran stares back at his brother and for a moment, he can’t help but be proud of the man his brother has become. Yes, his brother is a playboy, but when it comes to his friends, Nash came through time and time again.
Except that one time, a voice hisses in the back of Kamran’s ear. Swiftly pushing that memory aside, Kamran clears his throat again and asks, “How do you even know what you’ll be wearing? A few minutes ago, you didn’t even want to attend.”
“Probably something red, to give the older gossip mongers something to talk about.” Then Nash offers Kamran a sideways grin. “Knowing you, Mister Uptight and Brooding, you’ll be wearing black.”
Rolling his eyes, Kamran bites back his snappy comment to turn back and focus on the papers on his desk. Muttering under his breath, Kamran shoves the invitation across the wood towards his brother. “Well, I’m glad this argument is over. Maybe I should have Princess Hasna be your plus one to events from now on and I won’t receive any backlash.”
Nash chuckles as he takes the offered invitation. “Hasna doesn’t see me like that.”
Subtly glancing over at his brother, who is now intently reading the invitation and its details, Kamran shakes his head and silently sighs. Oh, brother, if you could only see the truth.