The Forced Bride of Alazar by Kate Hewitt

Author:Kate Hewitt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2017-05-20T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

EVERYTHING WAS A BLUR. It seemed only minutes that they were in the limousine on the way to the palace, and then its golden spires flashed before them. The car had barely stopped before the door was opened and Johara was ushered out to a row of waiting servants who then steered her through the main doors and down several marble corridors before she ended up in a suite of luxurious rooms, behind a set of latticed doors. The harem.

It wasn’t as bad as all that, she told herself as she walked around the opulent rooms. Besides a lavish bedroom, she had sitting and dining rooms and a private pool and gym. A table had been set up with fruit, pastries and a pot of mint tea. A young girl, who looked only about fourteen, bobbed a nervous curtsey and asked her if she would like anything else.

‘No, this is fine.’ Johara gave the girl a reassuring smile. ‘What is your name?’

‘Aisha, Sadiyyah.’

‘It is good to meet you.’ Johara noticed the girl’s chapped-looking fingers as she pleated her hands together. ‘Your hands look sore.’

Aisha glanced down at her fingers, blushing. ‘It’s nothing. They’re always like that.’

‘Are they?’ Johara reached out to examine the girl’s hand, glancing up at her. ‘May I?’

‘Of—Of course, Sadiyyah.’

It looked like eczema, and could be treated with a salve of coconut oil and jojoba. Johara was about to offer to make some up when she realised that of course she couldn’t. She didn’t have her garden here, her stillroom with its stove and all her equipment for making oils and other natural concoctions. She gave Aisha a sympathetic smile. ‘I’ll see if I can get some proper salve for you.’

The girl beamed. ‘Thank you, Sadiyyah.’

It wasn’t going to be so bad here, Johara told herself as she readied for bed that night, trying to be as optimistic as she could. She’d eaten dinner by herself, served by Aisha, who had, after some shy hesitation, shared a little bit about herself. They’d had a pleasant chat about palace life, and Aisha had assured her she could order anything she wanted and she would have it almost instantly.

An ice cream sundae, a favourite book or DVD, a new dress. Anything, and yet nothing at all. The restrictions reminded her of her father’s empty gifts, lovely, dazzling even, and yet ultimately costing nothing. The things she truly wanted—the freedom to choose her own destiny, the affection or at least the company of the man she’d married—were utterly beyond her request or reach.

She did not see Azim for two endless days. Days that were kept busy with preparations for her wedding and yet which felt far too long. She wanted to see Azim, needed to reassure herself that the man she’d had glimpses of before, a man who was taciturn but also kind, was still there, or had really existed at all.

When she’d asked Aisha about where Azim was, the girl had looked scandalised. ‘He cannot see you before the wedding day!’ she’d exclaimed, and then scurried off.

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