They're his children; he deserves to know if he wants to.

  She was reaching for her phone when Imran shook his head.

  “No, if you give in to him now, he'll be insufferable. It'll be fine. You can tell him what he needs to know later.”

  At her dubious look, Imran gave her a comforting smile.

  “He's always been like this. When he was little, he tried to put me and Fahim on military discipline—you know, getting up at dawn, running, that sort of thing. We weren't even seven yet, so you can guess how that worked out.”

  Laura laughed, because it was too easy to see—Ziad as a tiny bossy thing who wanted to know exactly what was going on and when.

  “Honestly, the kids seem happy, and that's what matters,” he said.

  Laura started to thank him, and then he spoke again, his tone too casual.

  “You know, just checking in, but how are you getting along with Ziad?”

  She blinked, turning to look at him as he bounced Hasan in his arms.

  “Um, just fine? Do you know something I don't know or that I should know?”

  “No, no, nothing like that. I was just curious, and…well…I really want you to know that Sarah and I are rooting for you. For you both. You two are taking some serious risks, but if anyone is going to make them work out, it’s you.”

  Laura was touched by his regard and Sarah's, but as Jamila dragged them back to see the birds of prey exhibit to see her friend one last time, she wondered whether their faith was well-placed.

  7

  The nursery was bright with golden light streaming in through the gauze curtains, the faint, sweet smell of baklava from lunch lingered in the air, and everything should have been perfect, except for the fact that Jamila was having increasing troubles with her reading.

  “And the cat ran to the…to the…”

  She looked up at Ziad for help for the fourth time, and for the fourth time, he shook his head.

  “No, sound it out,” he said, and he could tell from the way she frowned that she could hear the frustration in his voice. She could do it—she only needed to be directed to do so. The problem was that the pauses were growing more numerous and not less, and they were both feeling restless.

  She struggled with the book for another few minutes, and finally, she just thrust it at him.

  “You read it,” she said. “I want to listen now.”

  “No, you have to keep at it, Jamila,” he said, refusing to take the book. “You are going to be a queen someday, and that means that you need to see things through.”

  “But—”

  “No buts about it, young lady. You can't give up every time things get the least bit hard. You cannot expect someone to step in and save you every time. If you do, you will find that you are a weak queen. Is that what you want to be?”

  “N-no, but—”

  “But it doesn't matter. At the end of the day, you need to solve things for yourself. You need to be strong and to know how to take care of yourself.”

  “Okay…”

  “Good. Now keep reading.”

  Her lip trembling, Jamila reached for the book, but she had barely gotten through the first sentence when she gave in to tears. Her tiny face crumbled, and she flung the book to the ground, curling up into a little ball.

  “Jamila!”

  Abruptly, Ziad realized that he had gone too far, and that whatever lesson he had been trying to impart on Jamila was lost in the face of his being so harsh with her. His resolve crumbled, and, his heart twisting like a rag in his chest, he went to gather her to him with a soft comforting sound.

  “Oh, Jamila, I am sorry, I am so—”

  He grunted in surprise when she thrust out a small hand and shoved him away. She had impressive strength despite her size, and he stared at her as she resumed her sobbing fit.

  “No!” she shouted. “I don't want you. You're not my daddy, I want my real daddy. I want my real daddy back, not you!”

  A chill of fear and pain went through Ziad. It was his worst nightmare come to life. She knew the fear that he had been nursing in his heart this entire time, and she had flung it at him—that he was not truly her father. He never would be. He would never be good enough or kind enough or strong enough to be what she needed, neither she nor Hasan, and in the long run, all he would do was hurt them.

  Wordlessly, he stood up, his heart breaking in half.

  “I'm sorry,” he said quietly, and he turned to go. Laura was walking with Hasan in the garden. Perhaps he could talk with her, take Hasan so she could comfort Jamila.

  Before Ziad had gained the door, however, Jamila came bolting off the couch, slamming into Ziad's hip so hard that he actually staggered a little. Her arms went around his legs with a desperate strength, and she howled like a siren.

  “No! Don't go! Don't leave! Don't leave me and Hasan! I'll be good. I'll read just like you told me to! I promise I won't get any words wrong!”

  If Ziad had thought that his heart was broken before, it was nothing compared to this. Did she really think he was going to leave her? Did she truly believe that he was going to go away if she didn't do as he said?

  He couldn't bear it anymore, and he swept Jamila into his arms, hugging her tight.

  “No, dearest, no, I'm right here. I am not going anywhere. I promise. I love you.”

  She sobbed hard into his shoulder for what felt like forever, and when she was finally reduced to small sniffles, he spoke again, tentatively.

  “Perhaps that is enough reading for now,” he suggested. “Would you like to go to the stables and meet the new mare? She only arrived last week.”

  Jamila brightened up considerably.

  “Yes, please,” she whispered, and Ziad put her down so he could lead her to the stables.

  It healed him to see her soft and gentle smile, but there was a feeling of averted disaster, as if they had come very close to something dangerous and unpredictable.

  I need to talk to Laura, he thought, and not for the first time, he wanted her by his side.

  The chef had procured the recipe for Laura's favorite chicken carbonara, and she was enjoying it so much that Ziad regretted bringing up more serious things. He had intended to wait until after dinner to tell her about his day with Jamila, but somehow it had all come spilling out.

  “She liked the new mare,” he finished up a little helplessly. “She was calm, and she remembered to hug me and say thank you. She stopped crying, which was a bonus. But…does she not know I love her? Is this something that frightens her? Does she think that at any moment, I might leave her and Hasan?”

  He didn't expect Laura to smile at him, resting her hand over his with a gentle reassurance he wasn't sure he deserved.

  “I wouldn't worry about it, Ziad. She loves you. We can see it in how she always runs to you, how she trusts you, how she wants you to read to her and help her. However, she's a little kid who had a huge upset in her life. Everything feels shaky, and what she needs to learn is that every new change or discomfort doesn't mean the end of the world.”

  She paused, and Ziad thought she was done speaking until she continued her voice low.

  “That said, Ziad, she's a little girl.”

  “I know that—”

  “I know you do. I know that you are trying to do what is best for her and for the country, but right now, what she needs, what Hasan needs, even if it doesn't look like he does, is stability and safety. They need love, and they need fun, and they just need to be kids. The rest will fall into place, I promise.”

  Ziad took a deep breath. He wanted to argue with her and to say that the good of the country had to come first, for all of them. But she was the expert, after all. He'd be a fool not to listen to her, so he nodded.

  “I will keep that in mind for the future,” he said, and then he found himself looking at her a little more closely. In the dim light of the dining room, her fine, pale face had a porcelain glow to it, bringing out the roses in her cheeks and the beautiful darkness of her eyes.

  “And you,” he found himself saying. “What do you need? You have recently gone through a great upset yourself, moving from the United States to Yeni.”

  “I suppose I have,” she said with a little laugh. “I'm doing all right; you don't have to worry about me.”

  “I am not worrying, I am asking,” he said gently, and her eyes went wide before she remembered herself. He suddenly wondered how often she had ever been asked what she needed, and the answer that came back roused an ache in his chest: not often.

  “Well, you know. As you learned today, horses are a big hit. They work on all girls.”

  Her answer caught Ziad by surprise, and he laughed.

  “Yes,” he said. “I can take you riding at some point.”

  He watched, enthralled, as a warm blush rose from the collar of her caftan to her cheeks.

  “I would like that very much,” she murmured, and Ziad was startled by how much he liked that.

  8

  It was the first time the family had been together since the wedding. Laura quelled a surge of nerves even as she wiped Hasan's face, as Imran and Sarah cheerfully greeted her as they came into the arbor and sat down. Fahim came in on his phone, and Ziad jokingly threatened to take it away. Even Maryam was present, fresh from some fundraising she had been doing in Zurich. Laura was still a little shy around Ziad's glamorous mother, a gorgeous and fashionable woman with a bright and snapping gaze, but Maryam was quick to make her feel welcome, praising her care of Jamila and Hasan.

  “My son does send me updates when he can be bothered to do so,” she said with a teasing glance at Ziad. “His stories about you have all been glowing.”

  Laura must have looked surprised at that, because Maryam turned to Ziad again, this time with mock sternness.

  “Do you not tell your wife what a good job she is doing? That is the best way to lose her, you know. Women want to be appreciated, not treated as servants.”

  “Hear! Hear!” said Sarah, making Imran squawk with dismay.

  “One time!” Imran protested. “Tell me one time when I have been less than attentive, when I have treated you like a servant!”

  Sarah laughed and apologized, and Imran caught up her hand in his, giving it a kiss. Sarah was getting bigger now, Laura noticed. It would only be a few months before she gave birth, and Laura imagined she was eager for it for every reason.

  Breakfast in the arbor was a simple yet sumptuous affair. The plates had been left to the side so the family could feed themselves, and without the servants, there was something intimate about the occasion. Suddenly, Laura realized in a way she hadn’t experienced before that she was not eating with the king of Yeni and his relatives, but with her husband Ziad and his family. Swallowing hard, she looked from one smiling face to another, and it struck her how very far away she was from her own family, and how speaking with them on video calls…well, it just wasn't the same.

  She took a deep breath, looking up to keep the tears that had suddenly formed in her eyes from falling. The conversation continued around her, bright and lively, but when she thought it was safe enough to look down, she found Ziad watching her, his head tilted quizzically.

  “Just a little pollen,” she said reassuringly, faking a cough.

  She could tell that he didn't quite believe her, but he let it go, something she was profoundly grateful for. It had been a while since Ziad's own family had managed to get together like this, and the last thing she wanted was to ruin it.

  Afterward, however, Ziad came to her, pulling her to one side.

  “What do you say to that ride I promised you?”

  “Ride?”

  “You know, apparently ‘horses work on all girls.’ Today would be a good day for that.”

  “Oh, but Hasan and Jamila—”

  “Don't worry about them,” Ziad said firmly. “My mother would very much like to have some time with them while she's at the palace, and you told me yourself how important it is for children to spend time with a wide variety of people.”

  Laura wished her heart didn't beat faster at the idea of being alone with Ziad, but it wasn't something she could change.

  “All right,” she said finally. “If you're sure.”

  Ziad's grin was as bright as the sun.

  “I always am.”

  It was a surprisingly short drive to the seashore, where a friend of Ziad's had a pair of horses to loan them. Laura knew that she surprised Ziad when she swung into the saddle without help.

  “I didn't know you knew how to ride,” he commented, mounting his own horse.

  “I know a little,” she said. “A friend in middle school had a party once, and we got to learn how to mount up and ride a little. I'm sort of helpless after this, though, so—”

  “I will help,” Ziad said firmly, and under his careful instruction, she learned to walk and to trot her horse. She knew that she would hardly have done so well if the horse hadn't been as calm and as sweet-tempered as it was, but that didn't reduce the sense of accomplishment and wonder as they rode along the seashore, the cool breeze in her hair, dozens of miles away from the city.

  For a short while, it felt as if there was nothing in the world except the two of them, nothing but the sweetness of being outdoors and learning something new, of the sea and the sand and the sun. More than once, she caught Ziad glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, something at once proud and admiring. It felt good to be looked at like that. She wasn't sure that anyone had ever looked at her like that before, and she was happy somehow that it was Ziad.

  Everything was perfect, at least until she ruined it.

  They dismounted to look at a picturesque lighthouse on the shore, and for a little while, everything was still and serene and perfect. Then the memories caught up, and they brought with them the feelings that she had been trying to hide from, the ones that came for her with teeth and claws, and she gasped, clapping her hand over her mouth, suddenly frantic to stop the sobs.

  In a flash, Ziad was by her side, his comforting hand on her arm before he turned her to face him.

  “Laura?”

  “I’m fine, it's fine,” she managed, and Ziad snorted, though there was no unkindness in his voice.

  “You obviously are not. What's the matter?”

  She wanted to pull away, to flash him a bright smile and tell him she was happy, but she couldn't, not when he was looking at her with that concern in his dark eyes. Just as she was trying to be strong, she fell into his arms with a gasping sob, and he held her without question, let her sob through a short but violent storm of tears.

  Finally, she was able to stand upright again. Though his hands stayed on her upper arms, rubbing gently, she didn't pull away. It felt good, too good, for her to want to stop it. Laura sighed, but before she could speak, Ziad shook his head.

  “No apologies,” he said sternly. “That needed to happen, and I am glad you trusted me enough to let it happen with me.”

  Was that what it was? Before she could figure out if it was the truth or not, he spoke again.

  “Tell me what it is. I cannot fix it if I do not know what the matter is.”

  “Well, it's nothing you can fix, or nothing you aren't already fixing. Andrea's…well, she's not having an amazing time with chemo. It feels like such a fight, and when we were out here, looking at that lighthouse, I guess I thought of her, and how much she would love this. She loves horses, and I think she would love all of this…and…and…”

  “And?”

  “And I'm sorry, but I just miss my family,” she said miserably. “Your family is great, and they have made me feel so welcome, and it has been wonderful, but I feel so far away from mine. The time difference, the distance—I barely feel as if I have a family right now, and there's nothing to be done about that.”

  “Of course there is.”

  She blinked at Ziad's calm resolve, staring as he walked back to his horse and drew a small sleek tablet out of the saddlebag. She wanted to joke about him always needing to be connected no matter where he was, but then he was handing it to her.

  “Go on. It should be just a bit after nine on Saturday morning for them, right? That shouldn't be too early.”

  “Yes but…you're here, and I should—”

  He gave her a crooked smile.

  “It is long past time I met my in-laws,” he said. “Call them.”

  Laura swallowed hard and nodded, doing as he said. They sat down on a bench by the calm sea, and she watched as the green call button pulsed. Sneaking a glance at Ziad, she could see that he was calm, and just as the call connected, he took her hand in his, sending a jolt of sweetness through her. Then the call connected, and she had no time to think about it because there was her mother on the screen, her face tired but lighting up with pleasure.

  “Honey! Oh, honey, it's so good to hear from you! I wasn't expecting a call until tomorrow night!”

  “Hi, Mom,” Laura said, feeling those same damnable tears prickling at her eyes. “I just wanted—”

  “Ralph, Ralph, come here, it's Laurie!”

  A moment later, her father was there, peering over her mother's shoulder, and now Laura couldn't help but grin to see her big, blond father squinting through the screen at her from so far away.

  “Laurie! Laurie, by God, it's good to hear from you! Are you all right? You doing well?”

  “Yes, Dad, I'm doing well, I was just calling to, well, to say hi.”

  Her father glanced over his shoulder.

  “Kids! Hey, kids, get your rears down here, your sister's on the computer!” He turned back to her, a broad smile on his face. “Good timing, sweetie. Your grandpa stopped by for a bit on the way to his club, you can say hi to him, too.”

  “Dad, you don't have to,” Laura said helplessly, “They don't have to come and talk if they don't want to.”

  “They all want to see you. We all miss you, kiddo, and—”

  “I want you to meet Ziad.”