reverie that gripped the people lining the streets, rather a solemn expression of love for their country. Flowers in people’s hands, a memorial for the fallen sheikh and his wife. A gift for the new prince.
“Yes,” she said, her throat tight.
Sayid sat, his hands folded in his lap. The people outside waved, but Sayid made no move to wave back. Chloe pressed the button on the limousine window and expected to be scolded by Sayid. But he said nothing.
She slipped her hand outside the window and waved. The solemnity broke. Cheers erupted, smiles on the faces of the Attari people who before had looked so bereft. She looked at Sayid, questioning.
“You are the woman who saved their future ruler,” he said. “You are loved.”
“A strange thing to be loved for something you didn’t do.”
“You did save him, though,” Sayid said, his tone strange, as though he was having a revelation even as he spoke. “You carried him. Gave him life. You’re the reason he is.”
“If not me, it would have been someone else.”
“But it was you.”
Yes, it had been. And now the whole thing was tearing her apart slowly, piece by painful piece. Because her plan for her life had been so perfect. And she’d been so happy with it. Now it was altered forever.
She could never again find the same satisfaction in her imaginings of the future. There was a time when the thought of being Dr. Chloe James had filled her with all the satisfaction she could ever ask for from life. When picturing her own classroom filled with students had seemed like the ultimate picture of fulfillment. Spending her days lecturing on what she loved, spending time studying as much as possible even after school, unraveling new theories, either proving or disproving them as they came. There was a time when that had been more than enough.
And now it was muddled. Because to have that, she had to push Aden out of the picture. The thought of it sent a sharp pain through her, a spear lodged in her breast, one she couldn’t seem to pull out.
And the thought of abandoning the dream was painful, too.
There was no simple answer. There was just the reality of being caught between two different worlds. Two different desires.
But of course, she couldn’t stay in Attar. Couldn’t be staff at the palace forever.
Which still gave her her dream, that wonderful fantasy she’d clung to since she was thirteen years old.
Except now it was tarnished. It would never again be the vision of utter contentment and perfection it had once been. Not now that it meant giving up so much.
She was changed. Completely. And she hated it. Resented it with every fiber of her being. Yet, she couldn’t feel any resentment toward Aden. Toward the life that had begun inside of her body.
It was easier to channel it to Sayid. Much easier.
“The people need a symbol,” he said, his tone grave. “I am not that symbol. No hope for the future. You...you bring hope.”
“It’s Aden,” she said.
“Yes, it is. But it’s you, too. You who brought them their king. Who risked my wrath, and believe me my wrath is legendary, to save him.”
“I didn’t think it would cost nearly so much,” she said, her throat tightening.
“And was it not worth it?” he asked, his tone hard. As if he had any right to judge her, while he sat there, power pouring off of him in waves.
The anger bubbled over. Again. She was normally so much better with control, but Sayid tested her. And after being alone in her struggle, in her pain, for weeks, she simply couldn’t stand keeping it all in anymore.
“You...you—” she pulled her hand back in the window “—you can sit there and act so superior to me? You have the power to move Aden and me around like pawns on a chessboard, and frankly, you have from the moment you walked into my apartment. And then you just...say things like that. As though this is all so clear-cut and I’m supposed to know exactly how to feel, exactly what to say and want. It’s easy for you. You have all the control. And beneath the control...you don’t care. You don’t have a single feeling, not one sliver of emotion. So of course this is easy for you. Of course it’s clear-cut. But unlike you, I have a heart, and that makes all of this incredibly confusing. Incredibly painful. Don’t you dare presume that you should know what I