Marguerite Kaye - Claiming His Desert Princess

Ghutrif had demonstrated little interest in his daughter. Little wonder that Juwan refused to countenance the possibility of a second female child. Though every fibre of her being rebelled, Tahira could not dispute the facts. Here in the royal palace, patriarchal rule had always been both culturally entrenched and rigorously enforced, regardless of the slowly changing outside world. Here in the Nessarah harem, the female of the species was defined by her ability to produce more males to continue the line, or alternatively to enrich the kingdom by means of advantageous marriage contracts.

‘As you know,’ Juwan said, returning to the subject of her visit, ‘this most unfortunate second broken betrothal of yours has upset your brother and father a great deal.’

‘My first betrothed died unexpectedly. That was far more unfortunate for him than me, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Indeed it was. And only a matter of weeks before the marriage, in a most tragic and untimely accident.’

Tahira bit her tongue. Of course she would never have wished Prince Butrus dead, but she could not lie to herself. The tragic news had also come as a huge relief.

‘Clearly no blame can be laid at your door for that first instance,’ Juwan reluctantly conceded, ‘but now it has happened again, and involving the very same royal family. It does not reflect well on you.’

‘I was not the one who tore up the marriage contract,’ Tahira retorted indignantly. ‘And Prince Kadar, I understand, compensated our family far more generously than is customary in such circumstances.’

Juwan pursed her lips. ‘You see, this is another example of the many character traits which cause my husband great concern. Dowries, compensation, these are not matters we women should be discussing. No matter how much recompense your family may have received, the stain of shame clings to you, yet your behaviour in no way reflects this.’

‘What do you expect me to do, hide in a corner crying, or simply keep my head permanently bowed and my mouth permanently closed?’

‘That would certainly be a good start,’ Juwan replied tartly. ‘You set a very poor example to your sisters, continuing as if nothing has happened.’

‘Because as far as I’m concerned nothing did happen!’ Tahira exclaimed, her temper rising. ‘The one and only time I met Prince Kadar of Murimon, we were heavily chaperoned, and all communication was carried out on my behalf by my brother. I did nothing and I said nothing. The outcome is not my fault.’

‘You forget,’ Juwan said, ‘that I was one of the chaperons present to protect your honour. Though your father and my husband may have been oblivious, you overlook the fact that I too have been raised in the confines of the harem, and I too understand the unspoken language, the nuances of the body women such as we have learned to perfect. You made your indifference to the prince very clear without recourse to words.’

There was no point in denying the truth of this. Tahira had from the first fought both betrothals as furiously as was possible against the implacable wall of her brother’s determination to marry her off, to absolutely no effect. The fates had twice intervened in her favour, but she doubted they would do so again.

It was time to deploy a risky strategy. ‘If there is such a very large stain of shame attached to me, perhaps we should accept that I am simply not marriageable,’ Tahira said. ‘Very soon now, you will have your hands full taking care of your new son as well as your daughter. You will not wish to be distracted by having to look after the welfare of my younger sisters too. Let me be their official chaperon. Let me take the burden of that responsibility from you. I would be content with that role and would carry it out dutifully.’

‘So now, finally, you allow your true colours to show,’ Juwan said disdainfully. ‘Ghutrif and I are of one mind, Tahira. Your one and only duty, the purpose for which you have been bred, is to enhance the power and wealth of Nessarah through marriage. As the wife of the Crown Prince, it is my duty to ensure that your sisters are taken care of and married appropriately when the time comes, not yours.’

‘Juwan, I promised my mother...’

‘Tahira, that is another lesson which you have signally failed to learn. Your allegiance is not to a woman fourteen years dead, but to your brother, and to myself as his consort. Our wish is to have you married as soon as possible, sparing us all the pain of your most childish behaviour in defying us. Ghutrif will have his way. The easiest thing for yourself and the sisters you claim to love is to accept the inevitable with good grace.’

‘I do not claim to love my sisters. I love them with all my heart. Ever since our mama died...’

‘Spare me.’ Juwan made no attempt to hide her animosity. ‘You think yourself a surrogate mother to those three, but you are serving them very ill. It is not only my husband who believes you are an unhealthy influence. I see it for myself, the effect you have on them—but Tahira says, but Tahira doesn’t think—so many times every single day I hear those words. I am the wife of the Crown Prince, this is my harem, those girls have a duty to obey me without question.’

‘I don’t teach them disobedience, but I will not deny that I do encourage them to question what does not seem right or fair. My mother raised me to—’

‘Your mother is long dead,’ Juwan spat. ‘Your mother, who put her daughters before her only son, who failed to give Ghutrif his rightful place as the King in waiting. Your mother is no shining example to follow.’

Tahira struggled, but no amount of deep breaths and clenched fists could hold back the tears which gathered on her lashes. It was far too late now for her to rein her emotions in. ‘Ghutrif was always jealous, especially of me. You must not believe the stories he tells, for you must know how he slants things, colours things...’

‘How dare you criticise my husband!’ Juwan heaved herself to her feet. ‘Ghutrif is right. The sooner you are gone from here, the better. We cannot risk those other three following your bad example. It is time they learned that it is in everyone’s interests, not least their own, to let you go. Time they learned how selfish they have been. Alimah and Durrah in particular are forever begging me to ask my husband not to make another match for you.’

‘They are young. Do not judge them too harshly. Ishraq is more reconciled to her fate.’

‘Perhaps, but where you lead they will all follow eventually, even Ishraq. Do you really want them to reject the excellent marriages your brother will make for them? Do you wish to deprive them of the joy of children of their own?’

‘No, of course I do not! Quite the opposite, in fact. I’m offering to give up any prospect of marriage in order to better prepare them for theirs.’

‘Have you asked them if that’s what they want, for their dearest sister to sacrifice so much for them?’

‘It’s no great sacrifice from my perspective.’

Juwan shook her head, smiling in that condescending way that made Tahira wish to knock her turban off. ‘You have been a mother to those three for many years, but they no longer require a mother. Ishraq is almost twenty years old, more than ready for marriage. You are spoiling her chances and, fiercely loyal as she is, you may believe me when I tell you that she is becoming frustrated with your intransigence. She wants to establish her own harem, to raise her own family. As for Alimah and Durrah, they may be young yet, but in three or four years’ time they too will wish to fly this nest. It is the natural order of things. Only you are behaving unnaturally. Fortunately, though you may not believe it, my husband and I know what is best for you. The Murimon alliance would have been an excellent one, but that ship has sailed,’ Juwan said brusquely. ‘What matters now is to find you a replacement husband as a matter of urgency. You are twenty-four years old, a full three years older than I, but not yet past marrying age. The match being arranged for you will not be so prestigious, but you had better make sure you accept it with alacrity.’