He’d been bringing Adam to visit twice a day. Adam considered the preparations a huge game park and Jalal let him play among them to his heart’s content, watching him like a hawk all the while. During their last visit hours ago, her family had wanted to drag her to more dress fittings, had shooed Jalal away so he wouldn’t accidentally see the dress they might decide on.
She’d insisted on seeing him and Adam out, silently begging him to support her decision. She’d needed a breather from the single-mindedness of her bridesmaid-zillas. When they’d protested they’d only checked off six items from a list of fourteen today, couldn’t afford a break, he’d come to her rescue, asserting he needed a kiss, one not for her family’s eyes.
Cheeks blazing and eyes gleaming, they’d let her escape.
Not that he’d let her escape him. After he’d given Adam to Labeeb, he’d dragged her into one of the palace’s secret rooms, taken her, hard and fast and almost blew her mind.
She’d gone back to her family in a stupor and had gone along with anything anyone had said ever since. Hence all that gold that would turn the Qobba hall into a replica of Midas’s vault.
But then Qusr Al Majd—literally Palace of Glory—would give said vault, and all tourist-attraction palaces in the world a run for their money. It might not be as majestic as Zohayd’s royal palace, but it was surely striking, and like Haidar had said, felt like some elaborate beast from a Dungeons & Dragons fantasy.
Haidar had come yesterday to meet his twin’s “best-kept secret” and thank her for proving his “wolf” theory about Jalal right. Jalal had teased his twin back saying one of the things he thanked her for was making him beat Haidar to something—having a “cub” first. Haidar had volleyed that he’d beat him again. Roxanne was pregnant with another set of Aal Shalaan twins!
She’d liked Haidar on sight, was so grateful that he and Jalal had patched up their lifelong differences. She knew she’d grow to love him and, if possible, that had intensified her happiness.
She now sat ensconced on a window seat in the meeting-room-turned-workshop, her outline still blurred from Jalal’s lovemaking, dreamily watching Azmahar’s autumn sun setting, and its velvety, star-studded night taking over.
“So this was why you’ve been avoiding me!”
Lujayn started, burning in instant embarrassment. Aliyah!
She jumped down from the seat, turned to the woman who’d once been her lifeline, her heart quivering with delight to see her again. And she almost gasped.
Aliyah had always been beautiful, but now…now she was glorious. What fairy-tale queens should look like.
As tall as Lujayn but slimmer—at least now she was full of “lethal curves” as Jalal insisted—Aliyah had the bearing of a woman who’d long borne the weight of position and power. Having two children had only deepened her tranquility, and having the certainty of a great man’s love had crystallized her femininity.
Aliyah had another gorgeous woman with her who looked as if her body and spirit had been spun from fire. Roxanne Gleeson, now known as Haidar’s wife, Princess Roxanne Aal Shalaan—a woman she’d once thought had been one of Jalal’s lovers.
He’d explained away the misconception that had long torn at her, telling her that Roxanne had actually been like the sister he’d longed to have in his all-male family. According to Jalal, Aliyah had been revealed to be his sister in time to get married and hoarded by that possessive jackass of a husband.
When she’d giggled that Aliyah sure didn’t agree with his opinion of King Kamal of Judar, he’d harrumphed. Kamal, and he, were confirmed jackasses. They’d just lucked into having phenomenal women love them. Just like Haidar had with Roxanne. Thankfully, after long years of estrangement, Roxanne had become his sister at last, Haidar’s wife and an Aal Shalaan princess.
Before Lujayn could do more than kiss the two women, her womenfolk came swarming. Queen Aliyah of Judar was one of the two big-deal queens in the region, the other being Queen Maram of Zohayd, King Amjad’s wife and Lujayn’s almost sister-in-law. Roxanne had also made a big splash in Azmahar on two fronts, first as the kingdom’s foremost politico-financial analyst, and now as Haidar’s wife.
Soon, the two women joined their dress-choosing ritual with utmost enthusiasm. For the next couple hours, Lujayn felt like a doll, being put into and pulled out of dresses that she then had to model, walk, sit, run, dance and climb stairs in, with the ladies scribbling down comments and ratings for each, then discussing pros and cons spiritedly.
Aliyah finally insisted Lujayn try on a dress, to everyone’s surprise. It was fashioned from an incredible amalgam of tulle, taffeta and lace, worked in breathtaking arabesque patterns of sequins, mirrors, pearls and silk thread. A strapless, hugging bodice would accentuate Lujayn’s breasts and waist and a skirt lush in layers, yet not flaring, would showcase her curves. In short, perfect.
But their unanimous objection to it? It was gray.
Aliyah laughingly reminded them they were talking to the woman who’d rocked the region wearing black for her wedding. And then it wasn’t gray. It was silvered dawn and deepening twilight and every shade in between. And it looked as if it was spun from the threads of Lujayn’s own unique colors.
They all deferred to Aliyah’s opinion, not as queen, but as the world-renowned artist among them.
Lujayn still felt their skepticism, until the moment they saw it on her. And they all shouted simultaneously, “That’s it!”
It was only then that Aliyah revealed that her vision for the whole scene was now complete. With the bridesmaids and matrons of honor all golden, with her coloring and dress, Lujayn would stand out like a black-and-white silver-screen moon goddess.
Another hour passed before Lujayn was finally allowed to take off the dress, after picking a tarhah—a veil—for it. Aliyah and Roxanne both promised to bring her just the pieces to go with that outfit from the royal jewels of Judar and Zohayd.
Leaving her family boggling over that prospect, Aliyah and Roxanne spirited Lujayn away for a much-needed break.
In the blessed silence and isolation of a sitting room at the farthest end of the palace, she finally grinned at them. “Thanks for the rescue, ladies. It’s a good thing weddings are a once-in-a-lifetime thing. I don’t think I’d survive that again.”
“Don’t worry, you won’t need to.” Roxanne beamed, looking the image of glowing health in her early second trimester. “You’re marrying an Aal Shalaan. Those are for-life catches.”