More Precious than a Crown

Memories stirred for both the king and Abdul as they walked through the second jewel of Ishla. The second palace was where Zahid and his sister Layla had been born and raised. Even on their mother’s death, when Zahid had been seven, they had lived here. The king had been heartbroken at the death of his wife, Annan, but thanks to the privacy the second palace had afforded them, he had been able to grieve largely in private.

Zahid deliberately kept his face impassive as they discussed the work that needed doing, but he knew that just the fact his father had chosen to speak with him here meant that the reins were tightening.

His father had long since wanted him to choose a suitable bride. So far Zahid had resisted, he liked his freedom far too much, but this was a working royal family and Zahid’s skills in engineering were being utilised, his vision for Ishla was taking shape, and more and more his time was spent here.

It was time for Zahid to raise a family.

‘There is much work to be done,’ Abdul said. ‘The chief architect is concerned about some erosion on the cliff face and, as we thought, the great hall and the master suite are in need of structural repair.’

‘How long will that take?’

‘Six months to a year is his best estimate,’ Abdul said, and went into further detail. It wasn’t as simple as commencing work—the second palace contained many valuable pieces that would need to be catalogued and stored before work could even begin.

‘You do realise, Zahid,’ the king said to his eldest son, ‘that once it gets out that activity has commenced at the second place, our people will assume that we are preparing the palace for the crown prince and his bride.’

‘I do,’ Zahid replied.

‘And does six months to one year sound like a time-frame you could operate within?’

Black eyes met black eyes and there was a small stand-off. The king had raised a leader, which meant Zahid would not simply be told what he should do.

‘I think that at this stage, it would be premature to go ahead with the renovations.’ Zahid did not flinch as he defied his father’s request that he marry soon.

‘Your country wants to know that they have a prince who will—’

‘They have a prince,’ Zahid calmly interrupted, ‘who shall one day rule fairly and wisely. I do not need a bride to assure them of that.’

‘You need an heir,’ the king said. ‘If something should happen to you, they need to know that the line will continue.’ He let out an irritated breath. Zahid refused to be pushed into anything, which the king grudgingly admired, but the people needed reassuring. Time was running out for the king and so he chose now to play the one card he had that just might persuade Zahid to submit to his will. ‘Of course, should something happen to you, it would be Layla’s son who would be next in line.’

Zahid’s jaw gritted because Layla did not have a husband, let alone a son.

‘Perhaps,’ the king continued, ‘if the crown prince chooses not to marry yet, another royal wedding might appease the people.’

‘Father...’ Zahid addressed him as a father and not a king, trying to reach for his softer side, for the king truly adored his daughter. ‘Layla does not like any of her prospective husbands.’

‘Layla needs to understand that with privilege comes responsibility. I am thinking of inviting the Fayeds to dine here at the palace next week.’

Zahid thought about Layla, who had kicked, screamed and bitten when her father had once attempted to drag her out to meet suitors.

She was a rebel, a challenge, and reminded him of...

Perhaps it was the wedding invitation but Zahid’s mind drifted back in time and he recalled Trinity. Not the kiss but the fire in her eyes and a spirit that would not be crushed. Imagine Trinity being forced to marry. It would never happen.

‘You wouldn’t do that to Layla,’ Zahid said, but the king nodded for Abdul to leave them for a moment and, once alone, he addressed his son.

‘Today there are reports in the news that I have lost weight. Last week it was reported that during my last overseas trip I was hospitalised. Soon I will not be well enough to leave Ishla for my treatments and the people will know that I have little time left. They need to know the future is secure.’ It was said without emotion and should be accepted the same way. Feelings were frowned upon, especially for a male royal, but Zahid could not allow Layla to be used as a pawn. If he married then he could change things for Layla, who, unlike him, believed in foolish things like a marriage based on love.

It was not just the king that Layla had wrapped around her little finger. History meant that Zahid too, was extremely protective towards his sister. Not that Layla knew why, for the time of the queen’s death and its aftermath must never be discussed.

‘I want to announce a royal wedding,’ the king reiterated. ‘I want to hear cheering in the street when you walk onto the balcony with your chosen bride.’

‘Chosen?’ Zahid’s word was tart. For all the dining with families that would take place, for all the pomp and ceremony that went in to choosing a bride, both the king and Zahid knew it was a given. Zahid must choose Princess Sameena of Bishram and right his father’s wrongs for Fahid had not chosen wisely.

Instead of choosing Princess Raina of Bishram, a younger Fahid had fallen in love.

Zahid though, would choose wisely. Sameena was his father’s first choice, for the long-ago snub to the now Queen Raina still caused problems and both men hoped for friendlier relations between Ishla and Bishram.

Zahid, though, leaned towards Sheikha Kumu.

Her country, though small, was prosperous and had an extremely efficient army.

It was a business decision to Zahid and one he would not take lightly.

‘You do not need to ask the Fayeds to dine just yet.’ Finally Zahid relented. ‘You are right: the people have already waited long enough for their prince to choose his bride. Six months to a year sounds a suitable time frame.’

‘I am pleased to hear it,’ the king said, and then called his aide to join them again. ‘Abdul, do what is necessary for the renovations to commence.’ He did little to contain the smile of victory that played on his lips as he continued speaking. ‘And send out the invitations for potential brides and their families to dine.’

Zahid walked through to the master suite and on the king’s instruction a servant opened the huge shutter and the sun streamed into the room and fell on a large carved wooden bed. Here, Zahid and his bride would first live till, on the king’s death, they moved to the first palace to rule the land that he loved.

Zahid did not have six months left to enjoy being single for once his bride was officially chosen his playboy reputation must become a thing of the past.

It was a very sobering thought and one that did not go unnoticed by his sister.

As he prepared to fly to London for Donald’s wedding, Layla came to his suite.

‘Father says that the renovations are starting.’

‘Correct.’

‘Do you know who you will choose as your bride?’

Zahid did not answer, not that Layla let that stop the conversation.

‘Perhaps Sheikha Kumu?’ Layla fished. ‘She is well connected and very pretty, or maybe Princess Sameena, she’s so beautiful—’

‘It is not about looks,’ Zahid interrupted. ‘I will choose the bride who will best serve our people. One who will understand that my heart belongs to them.’

Layla rolled her eyes. ‘Ah, but I bet you take looks into consideration when you are choosing your lovers.’

‘Layla!’ Zahid warned, but she would not quiet.

‘Why don’t women get to go overseas? Why were you allowed to leave Ishla for your education?’

‘You know why, Layla.’

‘Well, it’s not fair. At least you have had some fun before you choose your bride. Father is speaking about the Fayeds again. I don’t want Hassain to be my first love.’ She pulled a face and Zahid suppressed a smile. He wanted to tell his sister that when he was king he would change things, but that conversation was too dangerous to have just yet.

‘I want to know what it is to fall in love.’ Layla pouted.

Zahid could think of nothing worse than a mind dizzied by emotion. He truly could not stand the thought of a life lived in love.

Yes, there was a year of her life that Layla didn’t know about.

The first year.

He looked at his sister who lived with her head in the clouds, yet he cared for her so. He could still remember her screaming in the crib, could still recall their father’s repeated rejection of his second born, who he had blamed for his wife’s death.

No, Layla must never know.

‘Layla, the palace will be busy preparing for my wedding. You do not have to worry for a while.’

‘But I do worry,’ Layla said. ‘Zahid, can I come to England with you? I would love to see the sights, and to go to a real English wedding...’

‘Layla, you know that you cannot travel until you are married.’

‘No,’ Layla corrected him, ‘the rule is that I cannot travel unless I am escorted by a family member. If you took me...’

‘I am not taking you to England with me,’ Zahid said. He would already have his work cut out with the Fosters and their debauched ways, let alone adding Layla to the mix. Zahid rolled his eyes. There was no doubt in his mind that his best-man duties would involve policing Trinity.

Once he had agreed to attend the wedding, Zahid had looked her up and his face had hardened as he had read on and flicked through images. Having completed school, or rather, as Zahid knew from Donald, a stint in rehab, Trinity had, it would seem, jumped straight off the wagon. There were several pieces about how she loved to party, combined with several images of her falling out of nightclubs. Things had gone quiet in recent years, though. She was now living in California and only came home on occasion, such as for the wedding of her brother.

His curiosity about Trinity surprised even Zahid. He could barely remember most of the women he had dated, yet the one kiss that he and Trinity had shared still remained clear in his mind, so much so that it took a moment to drag his mind back to the conversation.

‘Can I come on your honeymoon, then?’ Layla persisted.

‘I will hopefully be busy on my honeymoon,’ Zahid said.

‘Not the desert part.’ Layla laughed. ‘After. When you travel overseas, can I at least come with you then?’

It was not such a strange request—sisters often travelled as companionship for the new bride.

‘You might not like the bride I choose,’ Zahid pointed out.

‘You might not like the bride you choose.’ Layla smiled. ‘So I will entertain her so that you do not have to worry about such things as shopping and lunch.’

‘We shall see.’

‘Promise me that you will take me, Zahid,’ Layla said. ‘I need something to look forward to.’

‘You are up to something?’

‘No,’ Layla said. ‘I am just bored and I want something to dream about, something to look forward to.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘I need to go and meet my students.’

‘Then go,’ Zahid said, but Layla would not move till she got her way.

‘How can I teach my students about the world when I have never even left Ishla?’

Zahid accepted that she made a good point. ‘Very well, you can travel overseas with us when I take my bride on honeymoon.’

It was no big deal to Zahid.

Romance was not part of the equation in any marriage that he had in mind and that was the reason he said yes.

CHAPTER TWO

AN ASH CLOUD, perchance? Trinity’s heart lurched in hope when she saw that her flight was delayed.

A really, really big ash cloud that would ground aviation for days.

Or maybe the baggage handlers could go on strike.

LAX had been busy, busy and JFK was much the same. Trinity knew she had been cutting it almost impossibly fine to get back in time for her brother’s wedding and now that her flight had been delayed there was a very real prospect that the bridesmaid wouldn’t make it to the church on time.

Had she been willing that ash cloud to appear perhaps?

Of course she had.

Just a nice natural disaster where no one got hurt and one where it could be explained in the speeches that, though Trinity had done everything she possibly could to get there...

Boarding.

Trinity watched as the sign flicked over and dragged herself to the back of the line. Even as she took her seat on the aircraft she was hoping for a black miracle.

A flock of seagulls perhaps?

Yes, an aborted take-off seemed preferable to facing her family, or rather her aunt and her husband.

When Donald had called Trinity to tell her that he was marrying Yvette, though she had given her congratulations and said that, of course, she’d be thrilled to be there, inside her stomach had churned.

On concluding the call, Trinity had actually dashed to the toilet to be sick.

She felt sick now.

A harried mother and baby took the seat next to her.

Why, oh, why, hadn’t she used the money her father had given her to buy a business-class seat, Trinity thought as the baby told her with his big blue eyes that he was going to do everything in his power to scream all the way to Heathrow.

The take-off was impeccable, not a seagull to be found!

Then the captain came on and said that he would do his level best to make up lost time.

Trinity wished she could do the same—that she could push a few buttons and ride a tail wind if it meant that she could erase lost years. An ancient art history degree that she’d somehow obtained, as she’d struggled merely to operate, lay unused. Clubs, bars, dancing had been but a temporary escape from her pain and grief. California healing had beckoned, but neither reiki, nor chakra cleansing, nor the roar of the vast Pacific could replace what had been lost.

Her latest attempt to cure her repulsion to anything that hinted on sexual had been positive-reinforcement-based training.

Ha-ha.

Two thousand dollars later and several pounds heavier, Trinity had decided that no amount of chocolate or affirmations were going to cure her particular problem.

She loved herself?

Most of the time, yes.

She’d just prefer not to be touched.

The meals were served and Trinity just picked at hers and refused wine. Despite what the newspapers said, she really only drank at family things.

Which it soon would be.

No.

As the cabin lights were dimmed Trinity tried to doze but Harry, as it turned out the baby was called, had decided now that he liked her. He kept patting her cheeks with his little fat hands.

‘Sorry,’ his mum kept saying.

‘It’s not a problem.’

Trinity tried to doze some more.

It didn’t work.

The only consolation to attending the wedding was that she had just found out that, though at first he had declined, Zahid was going to be the best man.

She hadn’t seen him since that night ten years ago and Trinity wondered what he would be like now, if he even remembered that kiss in the woods.

If he’d ever given her a thought since then.

Trinity closed her eyes and briefly returned to the rapture of being in his arms and the bliss of his kiss, but her eyes suddenly snapped open for she could not even escape to the sanctuary of them without recalling what had happened later that night and in the months that had followed.

There was so much adrenaline in her legs that Trinity tried walking around the sleepy cabin, dreading what she must face later today. How she’d hoped her mother would tell her that Clive and Elaine hadn’t been invited, how she wished her father, or even her brother, would step in.

No one ever had.

Skeletons belonged in the closet. Dirty laundry belonged in a basket.

Clive was more prominent than her father.

Nothing could be gained by speaking out. It was easier to simply smile for the cameras.

It wasn’t, though.

All too soon the scent of breakfast came from the galley and, opening the shutter, she saw dawn.

The wedding day was here.

Trinity returned to her seat, where Harry was shrieking. ‘Would you mind?’ his mum asked. ‘I have to go to the restroom.’

‘Of course.’

Trinity held Harry, who stood on her thighs with his knees buckling as he screamed and screamed. ‘Go, Harry!’ Trinity smiled. Wouldn’t it be lovely to be as uninhibited as Harry, to simply scream out your pain and not care a jot what others thought?

She didn’t get to hold babies much. All her family was in the UK and none of her friends in LA had babies yet.

The sting of tears in her own eyes was terribly unwelcome and Trinity swallowed them back, telling herself she was being ridiculous. There was no comparison, Trinity told herself as she looked at Harry.

He was all big and chunky and wriggling.

Whereas she had been so tiny and so very still.

The sob that escaped Trinity’s lips came from somewhere so deep and buried that even Harry stopped his tirade.

‘It’s okay.’ Trinity fought to quickly compose herself and smiled into his curious eyes as he patted her cheek. ‘I’m fine.’

Trinity had no choice but to be fine.

She just missed her baby so.

Ached for the time that her daughter had never had.

‘Thanks so much.’ Harry’s mum was back and Trinity handed him to her but the bubble of panic was rising inside her and Trinity truly did not know if she could get through today.

She pressed her bell.

‘Breakfast won’t be a moment.’ The steward smiled.

‘I’d like a bourbon, please,’ Trinity said. ‘A large one.’

A few minutes later the steward returned with two tiny bottles of bourbon and a pussycat smile that told Trinity she was a lush.

Trinity didn’t care.

At least it calmed her enough to get off the plane.

* * *

‘Where the hell is Trinity?’ Donald demanded, as he clicked off his phone. ‘Yvette’s in tears, there’s not a sign of her at the hotel...’

Here we go again! Zahid thought as he felt the pull of the mad Fosters’ vortex. A night out last night with Donald and co. and Zahid was remembering all too well why he chose only minimal contact. Gus had kept insisting that Zahid extend his visit, or come and stay later in the year, and Zahid had reluctantly explained that he would be marrying soon and his time was now to be spent in Ishla.

And now, it would seem, Trinity had gone missing in action again.

Nothing changed.

‘Why don’t I call Dianne and see if there’s an update?’ Zahid suggested, for it was the best man’s duty to keep the groom calm, but he had never seen Donald so tense. He made the call and then gave Donald the news. ‘Your mother’s at the airport and she says Trinity’s plane just landed. As soon as she is through customs, she will take her straight to the hotel and help her to get ready. Call Yvette and tell her that she can stop worrying.’

‘You can never stop worrying when Trinity’s around!’ Donald challenged. ‘I just hope she’s sober.’

It wasn’t Donald’s comment that had a certain disquiet stir in Zahid. It was his reaction to the news that Trinity had landed and that soon he would see her again.

Over the years there had been a few near misses. Zahid, when he had heard Trinity’s plane was delayed, had assumed that this would be another. But that she was in the same country now brought a strange sense of calm—the planets seemed more neatly aligned, the stars just a little less random. They were in the same country and finally, after all this time, they would see each other again.

He wondered if she would be bringing someone and briefly wrestled with the distaste of that thought but then dismissed its significance. It had nothing to do with feelings, Zahid quickly told himself. After all, it was possibly his last weekend in England as a single man and certainly there was unfinished business between them. It was natural to be hoping that she was attending the wedding alone.

* * *

Trinity didn’t have to wait for baggage and she raced out of customs, her heart aflutter. Despite everything, she was looking forward to seeing her mum. Maybe things would be different now, Trinity hoped as her eyes scanned the crowd for Dianne. Maybe her mum would realise just how difficult today was. Maybe...

Her heart lurched in hope as she saw her mum, dressed for the wedding, just minus a hat. Trinity raced over and gave her a hug. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Have you been drinking?’ was Dianne’s only response to her daughter’s kiss.

‘I had one bourbon on the plane.’

‘It’s whisky,’ Dianne hissed. ‘You’re in England now. Where the hell have you been?’

‘The plane was delayed.’

‘I don’t want to hear your excuses.’

Trinity could feel her mother’s fingers digging into her arms as they raced to get a taxi and Dianne didn’t let up as they sped to the hotel. ‘Yvette is in tears. She wanted her own sister to be bridesmaid and now you’ve made us look...’ Dianne struggled to contain her temper. It had taken many, many dinners to convince Yvette’s parents to choose Trinity for the role, but a generous helping hand towards the wedding bill had given them leverage and the Fosters had insisted that their voice be heard.

Oh, and so too would Trinity’s voice be heard, Dianne remembered. She just had to tell Trinity that! ‘I’ve told Yvette that you’re going to sing near the end of the night.’

‘Excuse me.’ Trinity’s mouth was agape. ‘I can’t sing.’

‘You’ve got a beautiful voice.’

‘Actually, I don’t.’ Trinity could not believe that they’d ask this of her. ‘Mum, please, I don’t want to sing, I just want to...’

Hide.

‘When do you go back?’ Dianne asked.

‘Tomorrow afternoon.’

‘So it really is a flying visit, then.’

‘I’ve got an interview next week.’

‘If you’d let your father help, you wouldn’t be out of work.’

‘I’m not out of work,’ Trinity bristled, because she had a job at the beach bar and she certainly earned her money there, but Dianne pulled a face.

‘If anyone asks, say...’ Dianne thought for a moment. ‘Say you’re working in a museum.’

‘You want me to lie?’

‘Yes, please!’ Dianne said. ‘We didn’t put you through an art history degree to have you working in a bar.’

‘Ancient art,’ Trinity corrected, and then smirked at her mum. ‘What sort of museum exactly?’ She watched as her mother’s neck went red.

‘Okay, a library, then. The reference section. At one of the big colleges.’

Nothing changed.

They got to the hotel and the shoebox of a room that had been booked for Trinity. After a lightning-quick shower she sat as her hair was brushed and coiled and pinned by her tense mother while Trinity quickly did her make-up. Moods weren’t improved when her mother unzipped a bag and pulled out the most awful blue dress that Trinity had ever seen.

‘You are joking?’ Trinity said. ‘It’s so shiny I’m going to need sunglasses to wear it.’

‘Had you bothered to come to any of the fittings then you might have had a say in what you were wearing. As it is...’ She lifted up Trinity’s arm and attempted to pull up the concealed zip that was located at the side. ‘You’ve put on weight!’ Dianne accused.

‘No,’ Trinity said. ‘I gave you my measurements exactly.’

‘Then why can’t I do it up?’

Because you refused to believe I was ten pounds heavier than your goal weight for me, Trinity thought, but said nothing, just sucked in her stomach and chest as her mother tugged at the stupid zip until finally it was up.

‘Is breathing an optional extra?’ Trinity quipped.

‘Yes,’ Dianne snapped back. ‘But smiling isn’t. This is your brother’s day.’

‘Oh, funny, that, I thought it was Yvette’s.’

‘Trinity!’ Dianne was struggling to hold onto her temper. ‘Don’t start.’