Chosen For His Desert Throne - Caitlin Crews Page 0,42
the King’s suite, in a gesture toward tradition—even if he did not intend to install her in the usual harem quarters. He wanted her much closer. “My father believes there is no greater more noble calling than his. What are kings and queens next to the foremost neurosurgeon in all the land.”
Tarek threw her on her bed and followed her down. “He acts as if it is an insult that he is here at all.”
Anya had sighed as if it didn’t matter to her, yet Tarek was sure he’d seen a shadow move over her face. He hated it. “He has always been easily insulted. The real truth, I think, is that he’s used to being the center of attention. That’s really all there is to it.”
“At his own daughter’s wedding?”
“In fairness, if I was marrying almost anyone else he really would be the center of attention. Because the father of the bride commands a different part of the wedding where we come from. At the very least he would have stacked the guest list with his friends and associates, all of whom would be far more impressed with him than a collection of royals.”
“Anya,” Tarek had said, not exactly softly. “Why do you feel the need to treat this man with fairness when he feels no compunction to extend the same to you?”
She had looked stricken, then kissed him instead of answering.
Tarek understood that was an answer all its own.
Today there had been a gathering earlier for a wide swathe of guests, but the night featured a dinner for family only. Given the size of Tarek’s immediate family, this meant a formal meal in one of the larger dining rooms, with all of Tarek’s half siblings, their mothers, and their spouses invited to make merry. Compared to the other celebrations that had occurred this week, it was an intimate gathering. Tarek should have enjoyed introducing his bride to all his sisters and brothers—save the one, who no one dared mention.
But it was Anya’s father who once again had Tarek’s attention.
“It is a delight to welcome your daughter to the family,” said Tarek’s oldest half sister, Nur, smiling at the sour-faced doctor. Tarek wasn’t surprised that his sister admired his choice of bride. Nur had not taken the princess route as many of their other half sisters had. She had a postdoctoral degree at Cambridge, she had married a highly ranked Alzalamian aristocrat who also happened to be a scientist, and she had never been remotely interested in or impressed by poor Nabeeha, at large in Canada. “A real doctor in the palace at last. I fear I am merely a doctor of philosophy, myself.”
Anya smiled. “You’re very kind.”
Beside her, her father snorted.
That was objectionable enough. But Tarek found himself watching Anya. At the way she lowered her gaze and threaded her fingers together in her lap, as if she was trying to calm herself down. Or as if her father had not merely made himself look foolish, but had hurt her in some way.
Unacceptable, Tarek thought.
“I wouldn’t call Anya a real doctor,” her father said with a sniff. “There is such a thing as a waste of a medical degree. And for what? To wear pretty dresses and play Cinderella games? What a travesty.”
Nur drew back, appalled. Anya’s chin was set, her gaze still on her hands in her lap.
Tarek found he’d had enough.
“You forget yourself,” he said softly from his place at the head of the table. Though he did not project his voice on the length of it, he knew that the rest of his family heard him.
A stillness fell over the room.
The doctor was staring at Tarek. “I beg your pardon?”
“It is denied,” Tarek retorted. He leaned forward in his chair. “I do not know where it is you imagine you are, but let me enlighten you. This is the kingdom of Alzalam. My kingdom, which I have bled to defend.” There was a chorus of cheers at that, startling the older man. “You are sitting at my table. The woman you insult will be my wife the day after tomorrow. Men have died for lesser insults.”
There was more murmuring down the length of the table, rumbles of support from his family.
But Anya’s father only blinked at him. “Anya would be the first to tell you that she hasn’t quite lived up to expectations. She was raised to make a difference, not to...”
“Not to what?” Tarek asked.
Dangerously.
He shouldn’t have been doing this, he knew. Not because