“I felt safe with you.”
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple moving up and down. “Well, she didn’t. And can you blame her? I didn’t hurt her any of the times it happened. But if I lost too much of myself? If she were there during a night terror? When I imagined there were enemies all around? What would I have done to her then? Amarah was smart to leave.”
Katharine didn’t want to ask her next question either. “Do you miss her?”
He turned away from her. “I don’t feel anything for her. About her.” He looked back at her, his expression stoic, and she could see, from the flat look in his dark eyes, that it was true. He’d said he didn’t feel love anymore. He didn’t seem to regret the loss of it, either.
“Don’t leave again,” he said. “Not without telling me.”
“I’ll try to keep you in the loop, Zahir, but I couldn’t find you. And I’m not a prisoner. Anyway, Kahlah knew and I had security with me. I know that doesn’t keep you safe, not completely, but it’s the best I can do. And I’m used to moving around freely.”
“And now the entire country will know.”
“That you were concerned for my safety,” she said. “Nothing more. The truth of the matter is between us. Although, I think if people knew … I think they would understand.”
“Some would,” he said. “But here … there is a mix of old and new thought. Those out in the tribes, the bedouin … There are already rumors amongst the more traditional people that it was not Zahir who rose from the attacks, but the devil who now possesses him. I’m sure some of the people in the market believe it now. Or at least believe their Sheikh is insane, that my position as leader reflects a certain … weakness.”
“Then we will show them otherwise.”
“Katharine … “
“Why not, Zahir? Why not? You’re going to have to handle the wedding.”
“I will handle it,” he said, his voice hard. “I am not a child.”
“I know you aren’t. I don’t doubt your strength, not for one moment, and that’s why I believe that you can take this and defeat it.”
“As if I haven’t tried?”
“You stay alone. Your solution has been ignoring it, and we found out today that doesn’t work.”
“It has. It did before you.”
“But I’m here now.” And part of her was sorry she was. Sorry she had burst into the order that Zahir had created for himself. Sorry for what she had done to his pride. He was strength, he embodied it, exuded it. Even in the moment when he’d been in the flashback, he had been bravery and honor, working to protect her above himself.
And she had exposed him to ridicule and shame.
“Yes, you are.”
“What happened that day, Zahir?”
He tightened his jaw, then relaxed it, tendons in his neck shifting with the motion. “Read the articles about it.”
“I have read the articles about it. I went to the funeral for your family, but I want you to tell me.”
He shook his head. “I don’t remember all of it and I can’t … I can’t remember it without seeing it. Like that. Like it was out there. I can’t just remember it. I have to live it. Again and again.”
The thought of that, of reliving that hell, made her feel cold all over. “All right. You don’t have to tell me. But we can work on you going out.”
“I’ve been out. I go to functions when my duty dictates I must.”
Zahir fought against the rising rage that was filling him, threatening to drown him. To be seen in such a way … it was weakness beyond what was acceptable. He despised it. Despised that it lived in him. That it could overtake him.
That she had seen him that way. At his most vulnerable. That there was vulnerability in him … He had let his guard down. When he’d discovered her gone, when he’d found out where she went … Adrenaline had taken over, and from there it had broken down. The thin veil between the present and past rent, allowing the past to flood in.
Terror, pure and real, had filled him, and Katharine had been all he could see. Save her. Save her. It had pounded through him like a drumbeat, a constant directive, drowning out the terror, any concern for himself. It had been about her.
And then he’d seen her face, heard her voice, and the flood had receded.
“But the wedding will be more than that and … we need to go to Austrich. To be officially blessed in the Orthodox church. If not then we will not be legally married in the eyes of the people. Custom dictates it and my father has reminded me that it was a part of the original agreement.”
The demand that it be altered was on the tip of his tongue and yet he could not bring himself to issue it. To do so would be to admit defeat. No one had asked him to do more than what he had been doing for the past five years. Everyone had been content to leave the Beast of Hajar in his cave, to wallow in his misery.
So long as the economy kept moving, nobody cared. And they didn’t have to face the shame of a damaged ruler. Half of the people imagined him blessed by God. The others imagined him to be a demon. Most days he imagined the latter half was closer to the truth.
No one had challenged him … except for Katharine. She’d walked in challenging him and hadn’t stopped since. His pride wouldn’t allow him to turn her down. His pride also wouldn’t allow him to go before a crowd of people and … lose himself like that.
The flashbacks were like waking nightmares. His subconscious taking control and forcing him to watch what he’d already experienced. He was still there, but the pictures in his mind … the memories … they made him feel what he’d felt that day. The acrid taste of panic on his tongue, the knowledge that he was powerless. The horrible, debilitating helplessness.
It took him right back to the worst moments of his life and forced him to not simply remember them, but to relive them.
The simplest thing had been to avoid anything and everything that might trigger the flashbacks. They had been hard to predict at first. A noise that was too loud, the scent of sulfur from a lit match, could all send him back down into hell. So it had been better if he simply stayed in the palace.
Even now that they had grown so few and far between, they weren’t triggered by the obvious.
“It’s the crowd,” he said. He hated talking about it, liked explaining it even less, but it was preferable to her thinking he was crazy. “It’s the last thing I truly remember of that day. We were driving through the city. It was a parade, a national celebration. So many people were there.
“And I noticed there was a crowd around the car … I thought they were just citizens but … there’s always a barricade. By the time I realized it … “
He had to stop there. Had to. Because if he went too far into what had happened next, if he forced himself to remember, he would have to relive it. It was the way it worked.
“You couldn’t have done anything different.”
Such a tired refrain. One he had heard from every doctor, every visitor. He believed it no more from her than from any of them. “I could have died instead. Malik could have lived. It would have been better.”
KATHARINE let Zahir retreat to his quarters. Not that anyone really let Zahir do anything. He did what he pleased and he didn’t seem to care what anyone thought. Least of all her.
Except for when it came to the flashbacks.
Her