Olivia Gates - Midnight on the Sands

“How often does it happen?” she asked.

He turned his head to look at her. “Much less frequently than it used to.”

“It happened in your office last week.”

He pushed his hand through his hair, a slight tremble visible to her, making her feel like she should look away. To let him regain his pride. To let him have back what he’d lost in that true, unguarded moment. But she couldn’t.

“A short one.” He didn’t want to talk about it, she could see that. It was written in every tense line of muscle in his body. And yet she had to ask. She had to know.

“Are they … flashbacks?”

“It’s the crowd,” he said, his voice tight. “I saw … I thought you were in danger.” He flexed his fingers before curling them back into a fist. “I’m not insane,” he ground out.

“I know. I never thought you were.” She played the moment over again, his eyes, his face, the true, deep fear in them. It had been real to him, what he had felt and seen. It hadn’t been an overreaction or overprotection. It had been bone deep for him. “I … Is it posttraumatic stress? I’ve volunteered at a lot of hospitals in Austrich. Seen people who have been in accidents. It’s common when someone has gone through something like you did.”

He turned, angled away from her, his eyes on the passing scenery. “It probably is.”

“Haven’t you seen anyone?”

“They gave me medication to help me sleep. That’s all.”

She swallowed. “You don’t take it, do you?”

He let out a short laugh. “Already you know me better than my doctors. No, I don’t take it.”

“Do you sleep?”

The corner of his lip curved up. “No.”

“Maybe you should take … “

“No. Drugs to suppress it. To make me tired. What does that fix? Nothing. It just masks it. Another thing to control me when I … I should … I don’t want this. I don’t want to be affected by it,” he said, his voice harsh.

She wanted to offer comfort, to touch him, and yet, she knew he would reject it. Reject her. “But you are.”

“It’s gotten better.”

“That was not better.”

He snorted. “Sure it was. You should have seen me at first. Ask Amarah how it was.”

Her chest felt tight and she almost didn’t want to ask the question. But she had to. “Who’s Amarah?”

“She was my fiancée. She was there when I woke up, by my bedside. For all of five minutes before she turned and ran from the room. She came back, of course. She tried, for two days she tried, to deal with me, to help the doctors. But I would … I would black out. Or have a flashback and I was … unpredictable.”

Katharine put her hand to her stomach, trying to calm the wave of nausea that washed through her. “Did you hurt her?”

He shook his head. “Never. I was trying to protect her but … how safe did you feel just now?” He laughed, a dark, humorless sound.

Katharine could see how Zahir might be frightening in that circumstance, but she had only been scared for him, not of him. She’d known, from the moment he’d pressed her up against the wall, that he was putting himself between her and whatever danger he thought was there.

That he’d been putting himself in harm’s way. For her.

“Yes.” It was honest, absolutely. “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.”