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“It is as it is.”
Julia frowned, not wanting to seem indelicate. “A
nd are you sure?”
“Yes. Unfortunately, he and I both have problems that make the chances of us conceiving, even with assistance, impossible.”
There was nothing Julia could say, and so she said nothing. She was only twenty three; too young for children, but she had always known one day she would like a gaggle of chubby little humans in her home. One day. She could almost imagine the other woman’s pain at knowing it simply was not possible.
“So,” Adina continued, pouring out two glasses of sweet iced tea and handing one to Julia, “the task of providing Naman’s heir falls to you and Zayn, I’m afraid.”
Julia’s fingers gripped the etched glass beaker tightly. “Providing an heir?” She repeated dumbly.
“Yes. The Al-melara family has ruled Naman for centuries. You know, of course, how proud they are about their lineage. Once you have secured the blood line, we may adopt.”
Julia’s mouth dropped open. “But surely your adopted child should be an heir.”
Adina’s smile was wistful. “It is not possible. If Amal and Zayn both die, childless, the line will pass to a distant cousin of the King’s. That same cousin would never allow an adopted child to sit on the throne of Naman.”
“That’s… outrageous,” Julia said, shaking her head sadly.
“I think so, too. But Amal has never cared for the rule of the kingdom. In truth, he has often offered to abdicate to Zayn. The brothers are so different. Where Zayn sees only problems he can solve, Amal sees a life he wants to live.” Adina scrunched her face up in an expression of apology. “I don’t mean to say Zayn doesn’t enjoy life,” she said quickly. “He has married you. That is a sign that he intends to live and be happy, finally.”
Julia’s mind was slowly shutting down. If Zayn accepted Amal’s abdication, it would mean she, Julia, would be next in line to become Naman’s Queen. Fear of such a public position made her heart stone-cold and heavy in her chest. But a greater fear than that was gripping her. Speaking the words aloud hurt, but not saying them would have hurt even more. “Perhaps he married me just so he could secure an heir.”
“Oh, nonsense,” Adina said with a feeble laugh. “No one could make Zayn do something he didn’t want.”
But Julia’s mind was running away with her. Adina was right. Zayn was born to lead. As second brother, he had the luxury of focusing his energies on the family empire, and under his watchful management, it had grown to a global entity of epic proportions. He was clever and hard-working and a gifted business man. He was admired and respected the world over for his commercial acumen. If there was one fly in the ointment, it was his reputation as a bachelor. He’d spent years publicly romancing glamorous women – too many for even a heartbroken Julia to properly remember. The only way someone like Zayn could convince his country he was ready to lead it, and that was by taking a suitable wife and producing a child.
And finally, she understood. He didn’t love her. He never had. He saw her as an excellent candidate for marriage. She came from a wealthy, titled family; she’d been sent to the best schools in England, and had graduated from Oxford with a degree in international law. She was young enough to be a presumably safe bet in the baby-making stakes. And she had zero will-power to resist him. Yes, he had chosen his bride very, very well.
“I have upset you,” Adina said perceptibly, putting her tea down quietly and taking Julia’s cool hands in her own. “I am very sorry, Julia. I have a habit of speaking a little too freely at times.”
Julia’s lips tilted into a lopsided grin, despite the gnawing panic in her gut. “It’s a habit I share, Adina. Please don’t worry about it.” She lifted her clear eyes to her sister in law’s face. “I do want children. I just thought I might have a little more time.”
“And perhaps you do. I might be completely wrong. It could just be my wishful thinking.”
“Your wishful thinking?”
“I know Amal would like to pass the throne to Zayn. And between you and me, I wish it also.”
“I honestly don’t know if that’s what Zayn has in mind,” Julia said cautiously. After all, it was the complete truth. What did she really know about the man she’d married? Four years ago, she would have said she knew him inside and out. They had spent hours talking on the phone, swapping deep, personal emails. She had known him in a way that defied explanation. But now? She had only presumed he was happy running his empire.
But Zayn was driven by power, and a lust for control. Hadn’t his dominance of her since their meeting again shown her that he was not prepared to leave anything to chance? His control-freakishness was a talent best left to leaders.
“Let’s not speculate,” Adina concluded sagely. “Whatever happens, I am pleased Zayn has married you.” Her smile was genuine, if a little reserved.
Julia wasn’t an accomplished enough actress to pretend likewise. At that moment, all she wanted was peace and quiet to think everything through.
“You know,” Adina continued, “He spoke about you to me, many years ago.”
“He did?” Julia lifted her eyes to Adina’s, her surprise obvious.
“Yes.” Adina linked her arm through Julia’s and slowly guided her through the lounge room, towards the balcony. There was a light summer’s breeze that almost took the edge off the stifling heat, but Adina flicked a concealed switch in the wall and large palm shaped fans on the ceiling began to flick lethargically backwards and forwards, adding to the cooling wind.
Julia settled herself in the middle of a cane ottoman, her legs crossed at the ankles, and stared out at the view. Beyond the highly fortified security fence, the city stretched far in the distance. The buildings were pale and compact, and smoke was rising from various areas.
“Restaurants,” Adina said, tilting her head towards the puffs of dark grey clouds rising into the air. “The food in Naman is exquisite; particularly what you find in city bazaars. I will take you for dinner, when you are settled.”
