King of Durabia Read online

  “Most definitely,” Kamran confirmed, leveling a steely gaze on his father. “In my heart and in the eyes of Allah, she is already my wife. I was your gift to her. She is Allah’s blessing to me. I do not take that lightly. And I do not take her invitation lightly, either. Neither should you.”

  Grumbles of discontent rumbled throughout the court, mostly from his brothers and uncles.

  “Silence.” Sheikh looked at the card a final time, then flickered a gaze between Ellena and Kamran several times, and it seemed an eternity before he smiled. “Well, it seems that I am an excellent matchmaker, but the law is as it is written.”

  Kamran’s mother glided past her daughters, sister-wives. and daughters-in-law all lined opposite of the men, and asked, “May I speak?”

  The Sheikh gestured for her to go on.

  “The law is as you decree,” she said with a humble bow. “Would it be such a disservice to allow this woman who pleases our son to remain in the Free Zone? Or a residence directly outside of the palace? Give her time to learn the customs and understand the reasons for them. Then we would address this question of residence in say five, maybe ten years?”

  All kinds of relief flooded Kamran’s body. His mother was pure genius. A wonderful compromise, if his father would see it in that light.

  “Question, Ellena Kiley.”

  The Sheikh’s booming voice commanded a response.

  Ellena settled her attention on him.

  “The only thing that stands between remaining here with my son or going home to America is your unwillingness to live in the palace with him?”

  She picked apart the traps in such a loaded question, filtering through an answer that would not be an insult. “If I may be so bold,” she said in measured tones as she retraced her steps to be closer to the throne. “It is not an unwillingness to live with him. It is my wish that I do not live under a law I do not understand and wasn’t raised to embrace.”

  The Sheikh shot a glance at Kamran who wore a stoic expression, taking it all in. “Fair enough.”

  Ellena turned to walk away, but the guards still faced the Sheikh, waiting. She had no other choice but to turn and eyeball the Sheikh again.

  “You have laws and requirements in your land?”

  “Yes, sir,” she answered. Kamran’s nod of approval was almost imperceptible, so she continued, “And I understand them because I grew up with them. Here, not having my hair covered could land me in a world of trouble.”

  “So, you love him, then you cover your head and your body,” Sheikh snapped, impatience coloring his tone and his expression. “That is not so hard.”

  “But why am I doing it?”

  A flutter of movement and then dead silence met her question.

  “Nothing’s been wrong with my hair all this time. Why is it so offensive here? Why is having my arms and shoulders exposed such a sin? Is it that men are so unable to control their desires that we pay the cost for that? And what is it truly to protect me from? Rape still occurs in Islamic cultures, regardless of what clothes a woman wears. Covering doesn’t keep that from happening. Seems like the problem isn’t the women. So penalize the men, not us.”

  Sheikh Aayan’s eyes widened and a vein throbbed at his temple. Kamran inhaled and tried not to smile. His woman, oh yes, his woman would question everything he believed in.

  “Remember, these are part of your culture,” Ellena continued. “It is part of your religion, not mine.”

  “People embrace new religions all the time,” Sheikh Aayan said, glaring at Kamran as though he was the one challenging him in such a manner. “And especially if they love their husbands as they claim.”

  “That is true, but I would not embrace this religion,” she confessed. “The disparity in the treatment of women outweighs what I’m already experiencing in America.” Ellena spread her hands. “Why would I trade a religion I’m familiar with, for one that is so much more restrictive, and dangerous for me if I make a mistake? At least I understand the unfairness of American religions and laws. Here, I would be at a severe disadvantage. As much as I love your son, the risk outweighs the benefits. The fear alone is crippling. And he loves me enough that he would rather see me leave, than for me to live here with him, in fear. That is true love right there.”

  The Sheikh’s silence caused her to chance a gaze in Kamran’s direction. His slight smile was all the encouragement she needed. “Love can only carry us so far, Sheikh. When his wife is left out of a great many things because she makes simple mistakes she is unaware of, that becomes his shame. And he has suffered enough of that from the moment you decided he was not the son who was to sit on the throne simply because nature and genetics had other plans. That, in itself, was one cruelty compounded by another. Do not subject him to further anguish by giving him a wife who would be a constant source of embarrassment.”

  Kamran stiffened. So did many others.

  Sheikh Aayan’s face darkened with rage.

  Kamran stepped forward. “Father, I—”

  “You dare to judge me for a decision I made in the best interest of the kingdom,” the Sheikh roared.

  “No, your highness,” she said in a milder tone. “I’m merely pointing out that a beloved son as you claim that he is, could have easily kept his title and position in your royal line and chosen a nephew of that same bloodline as his heir.” She seemed to deliberately ignore Kamran’s silent directive to pipe down. “With the action you have taken, a man who has a deep love for his people and his culture, who also has amazing ideas of how to bring even more wealth into Durabia, has been placed on the sidelines. His wisdom, knowledge and compassion for all people will die with him and not bear fruit.”

  She lifted her chin, meeting the Sheikh’s hard glare head on. “That is a sad thing for everyone involved. Especially, when you have shown the foresight to make Durabia a place that everyone wants to experience and now call the City of the World. A metropolis. But I have seen no other initiatives and plans from any of your other sons that will enhance the splendor and economy of what you’ve already put in place.”

  A string of Arabic curses went up from one of Kamran’s brothers. Another held him back when he lunged toward Ellena.

  “Kamran has every aspiration of doing so,” Ellena continued. “And he has the intelligence, determination, and passion needed to carry out projects far beyond even things you have planned. I have seen no such thing from any of your other sons. They seem complacent to let you do all of the work and planning, while they reap the benefits of your foresight. Kamran has no such inclination. He’s a visionary, like you. He is passionate about his family, his people, and Durabia. Exactly in that order.”

  The silence beyond that statement was frightening.

  Kamran widened his eyes, grimacing at her, sending a message, a warning to take things no further. Ellena had overstepped a boundary, even in her truth. A woman—an American—a Black woman—did not say these things to a ruling Sheikh. But oh, was his wife nailing every issue to the wall. She was nothing short of brilliant. And she was his. Every feisty ounce of her.

  His father had six wives, children from each, but Salman, Amir, Laraib, Nadeem, and Umar, were now the favorites because they were the eldest sons from each wife. At one time, Kamran was the Crown Prince and none of them factored in, because he was destined to rule. Then … he wasn’t. Now five sons were jockeying for the position of Crown Prince as one act or another could take them out of consideration. Father kept them all on notice and that meant each of them did whatever it took to curry his favor. Some of their methods had been underhanded and their father did not discourage the unhealthy competition.

  Kamran’s position as royal advisor could be easily filled by someone else. Nothing existed for him here except his mother. He had always felt like an outsider since the day his father took away his title of Crown Prince. He had enough tucked away in Swiss accounts to carry him and his beloved in luxury for the rest of their lives. The moment Ellena was on a plane t
o America, he was going to find some way to be right behind her. Then if he could have his mother to follow, he didn’t care if he ever came back to Durabia. He would be with his woman, whatever soil would take them both.

  Ellena lowered her gaze as well as her tone. “Please forgive me, Sheikh Aayan, if I have spoken too harshly or if it was not my place to say these things. My love for Kamran is speaking and not the intelligence that says that I, a woman, should not address things as such, no matter how true they are.”

  The Sheikh was silent so long after her apology of sorts, Kamran thought his father did not have words to express his anger in a way that would not make him seem petulant.

  “You did not like my choice of words,” she said in a milder tone. “You are offended and that was not my intent. You are very much aware how Americans and Blacks are seen in your culture and religion, the same as people of color are seen in America—inferior. I do not wish for Kamran to constantly be on the defensive or have to always apologize for something that cannot be changed.”

  The silence was so profound, Kamran believed everyone could hear his heart slam against the wall of his chest.

  “You really love him?” the Sheikh said in a tone that spoke to such a thing being an impossibility.

  “Yes, and you seem surprised that I came to care for him in so little time. He is your son, yes? With all of your charm, good looks, and charisma, yes?” she challenged. “But the bigger question is why wouldn’t I love him? He has a pure soul, a heart and love for his family and his culture that is so expansive, it takes my breath away.”

  Kamran’s heart swelled with love, pride and passion. No one had ever stood up to his father on his behalf. Well, except his mother. But this woman, this amazing woman was fearless in voicing so many obvious things that his father tended to brush over. No, he wasn’t going to be on the plane right after her, he was taking that flight out with her.

  His father and his position could be damned.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sheikh Aayan waggled a finger in Ellena’s direction. “She is most excellent with words. You have given me much to ponder.” His gaze swept to Kamran. “And she has made an excellent case on your behalf. I would love to hear such plans that you have in mind for Durabia, my son.”

  Kamran nodded, but didn’t miss that five of his brothers were in hushed, but heated conversations and their wives were glaring daggers at his beloved.

  “Ellena,” Sheikh said in a tone that made all voices trickle into silence. “I will allow you to reside in the Free Zone and remain here in Durabia as Kamran’s wife.”

  Several shocked gasps and murmurs echoed behind that pronouncement.

  “But you must attend dinner at the palace every Friday after prayer. Is that acceptable?”

  Ellena looked to Kamran, who nodded vigorously.

  The Sheikh noticed the exchange and smiled. “See? Already accepting your husband’s wisdom. Not such a bad thing, eh?”

  “And he accepts mine,” she said with a lift of her chin. “It is not a one-sided thing. Balance. You listened to your own wife, yes? It is how any marriage best succeeds.”

  Sheikh peered at her a moment, lips twitching with the need to smile. “My son, she is a feisty one. Are you certain this is how you wish to proceed?”

  “Yes father,” Kamran said, willing his heart to stop pounding a river of blood to his brain. “Most definitely.”

  The Sheikh turned to Ellena. “And you, are these terms acceptable?”

  “Yes, Sheikh.”

  “And the dinner requirement. You can abide by that yes?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Find your place,” he said, smiling down at Kamran. “Take her as your wife, my son. We will have a magnificent wedding. Ellena, you have family who will come?”

  “Two sisters, a niece and nephew, and that’s about it.”

  “So be it.”

  Kamran rushed toward Ellena and gathered her in his arms. Neither one of them witnessed Amir and Faiza share a speaking glance across the room.

  “Kamran, I would like a private audience with you after dinner,” Sheikh Aayan said.

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Father, as crown prince,” Amir said, moving away from his brothers until he was a few feet from Kamran. “I should be in on the meeting as well. I, too, would like to hear such plans as something I would implement or continue when I am King.”

  Sheikh tilted his head, peering at him for a long moment. “How presumptuous of you. I said private meeting and that is what it will be.”

  Amir gave a small bow. “My apologies, Father. I only wanted to be of service.”

  “Be honest, you were just being nosy, brother,” Kamran shot back.

  Amir’s lips twitched. “That, too.”

  Everyone retired to the dining room. Three identical tables that seated twenty-four people each had been dressed in opulent golds and creams.

  “As an honor to our guest, my soon-to-be daughter-in-law, I will give her the opportunity to say the blessing over our meal. You do say blessing in America, yes?”

  “Given the fact that we don’t always know the origins of what’s on our plates, or how angry we’ve made the cook, blessings are always in order.”

  Laughter and a few chuckles ensued.

  He gestured for her to proceed. Some of the women shared a speaking glance.

  “Mother-Father God,” Ellena said, lowering her head. “We come humbly before you, thanking you for abundance of love, joy, peace, and mercy. For every family represented here to be under grace and bounty. We ask that you guide every thought toward compassion, understanding, and love. That you go before them, protecting them from hurt, harm, and danger. Grace every union with balance and joy. And I ask your forgiveness as I attempt to say a prayer that everyone under the sound of my voice can embrace.”

  Kamran nearly slid out of his chair when Ellena let loose with the Muslim prayer—in complete Arabic. Every syllable was correct. Every nuance was perfect. Her voice was magnificent and breathy, and shamefully, he felt a stir of both love and arousal on hearing the Arabic words fall from her lips.

  She ended the prayer, and no one moved for several minutes. The shocked expressions were priceless.

  Kamran glanced at his father, who blinked several times in his disbelief, his mouth slightly parted for several moments before he recovered, cleared his throat, and said, “Kamran, if you were able to achieve this magnificent feat in a few days, imagine what can happen in five years.”

  “Father, to be honest—”

  Ellena flashed a warning look his way and tilted her head.

  Kamran clamped down on the rest of his confession. “Yes, father. Imagine that.” He gave her a warning glare of his own and mouthed the words, “We need to talk.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The door to Ellena’s suite in the palace didn’t close all the way before Kamran whirled on her.

  She held up her hands and shrank back a little. “Kamran, I know you’re upset.”

  “Upset,” he snapped. “Woman, you made me look like a damn fool.”

  Her shoulders lowered in defeat. “Oh, not a damn fool—”

  “Ellena!”

  “You’re right,” she said, grimacing as she perched on the chaise, hold up her hands in surrender. “And I apologize.”

  “You know Arabic?”

  She shrugged. “Very little.”

  “Woman, you said that prayer with complete conviction,” he countered, pacing the rug stretched out before the chaise. “That is not someone who knows”—he crooked his fingers as quotes—“Very little Arabic.”

  “I know the greetings, the prayer, and how to say ‘if the Lord wills’. That is all.”

  “Why the prayer?” he said, pausing long enough to lock a steely glare on her. “Why that prayer? And your voice … sweet Lord, in that voice …” He closed his eyes as though trying to center himself. “My God …”

  “Kamran, please calm down.” Ellena gestu
red to the space beside her. “I was a member of the Nation of Islam for several years.”

  After a few minutes, Kamran lowered into the seat, waiting. The tension was still coiled about him.

  “I raised holy hell up in that organization,” she confessed. “They were happy to see me leave. For a time, I was searching for something and I sought understanding from many religions. I grew up Christian and some of the things I experienced didn’t make me want to remain one. So, I went from Baptist to Methodist, then to Apostolic for one day—”

  Kamran shook his head. “A religion for only one day?”

  “I was in their tarry room for nearly nine hours trying to receive the gift of tongues—something they said would be a sign that I was saved and would make it into Heaven.” She shrugged. “It never happened. The next Sunday I went straight to the Nation of Islam because I thought it would be better than Christianity. I found that all religions have their flaws and issues, especially surrounding women and in their origins and dealings with people who look like me.”

  Kamran absorbed that for a moment. “You said something about raising hell.”

  “Finally, the disparity—the difference in how women and men were treated when it came to offenses—were too much for me.”

  Ellena explained how women who were found to be in error or did something against the laws of the religion, they were brought before the congregation and marched out—excommunicated. But with the men, when they were found to be in sexual error, a different approach was taken. The men would not be honest. Instead, they claimed that the women were already in a relationship with them before they came into the Nation. Or they married those women very quickly to avoid any consequence. Her main issue was that the women called MGT which stood for Military Girls Training, were keeping themselves chaste, preparing for the men—the Fruit of Islam—or FOI. Men who would never be available because they weren’t keeping it together long enough to be with the women who were doing all the right things.