Page 39 of Good As Hell

It’s with these feeling of animus eating at me I watch the queen approaching us with three attendants at her back. I wonder if it was any of them leaking gossip to the press. I wouldn’t doubt it. The only person loyal to me is the person rising to bow to Hassan’s mom beside me.

I’m much slower to rise for no other reason than to let her know I’m mad.

“Ladies,” she smiles warmly, if not a little sadly, at us both.

“Ma’am.” We both bow, acknowledging her higher status.

“Please sit with us,” I wave to the space across from me as one of her attendants brings over another chair.

“Tea?” I ask after she sits and we do the same, waiting for her to take her seat first.

“Yes, thank you.” As a fresh batch of tea is brought, the silence is so thick you could slice it with a knife.

Finally, when the tea and a tray of sfenj — donuts that I have come to love, chocolate and almond ghriba, along with the same cookies made with cardamon, are placed before us. The queen takes us in for a long moment.

“I’m sorry about how you are being treated by the press.” I quirk a brow at her words and smile, knowing it doesn’t meet my eyes.

“The staff here a loyal to your family.” I began only to be cut off when she raises her hand.

“You are part of this family.” She interjects only to have Fi make a strangled sound, which has both of us looking at her.

“Y’all have a funny way of showing it. Your son kidnapped us then forced Lyric to marry him, only to disrespect her by not giving her the tittle that is hers by right. I know y’all are a little behind on women’s rights over here, but even you know this is not right, ma’am.” Never going to be a diplomat this one, still I’m proud of my friend.

“You are correct, Fi.” The queen acknowledges, then turns to look at me. “It is not my place to tell Hassan what to do. I thought since he chose to bring you into his suites that you all had formed a bond. Word of this altercation never reached His Majesty, The King and I. This is unprecedented — that anyone in the palace would leak our family’s business in this way. We are very sorry and will ferret out the leakers.” Her gaze is unwavering when she gives me her solemn oath. “We are not the British royal family where the Firm works to tear down perceived rivals. No, we Al Rasheeds are family no matter how we came to be.”

It’s not until her words wash over me I realize this is what I have longed for, only it should come from Hassan not his mother.

“I wanted to invite you to come along with me to visit some of those who survived the earth quake. I think it would be good for the people’s morale to have us — the queen and the high consort to visit.”

Not to mention the help to my reputation after taking such PR hit. She doesn’t say it, doesn’t have to. I’ve done enough damage control in my career to know a rehabilitation campaign when I see it. I don’t begrudge her. In fact, I find myself more than little grateful to her.

“I’d be happy to join you. Fi?” I turned to my bestie. “Will you stay with Ayaan while I’m away? Normally, one of us is always here.” She’s already nodding with eagerness before I finish.

“Of course,” she waves with a flourish. “I’ll take care of my nephew, no different than if you were doing a press junket or a charity, event on tour.”

I notice the queen shifts a little uncomfortably at Fi’s reminder of how we were snatched at the start of my tour.” I try to hide the smirk but can’t stop myself from nodding in agreement. One thing my friend is going to do is stand for what’s right.

The realization settles a deep resolve within me. I will have a reckoning with Hassan. I’ve never been a doormat and I’m not going to allow illusions of what could be cloud what actually is. He stole me from life, forced this marriage on me, and then treated me shabbily when things got tough. Sure, people are suffering and instead of allowing me to comfort him he accused me. Not that I could tell him about Fi’s part. That would mean certain death for her, no matter who’s taken a liking to her. I won’t risk her any more than I would any of my other sisters. Because that is what Fi is to me, a sister.

“Jeeze,”I whisper, behind mask the first responders insisted that we use when they briefed us on the way to the site. My gaze snags on greater and greater evidence of the breadth of devastation these poor souls had to endure. The SUV skirts deep pockets of craters and rubble as we go through the city near the epicenter of the earthquake.

The vehicle shakes and rattles as we are taken up a steep assent to a plateau rising high above the city. We approach a citadel that seems to be throwback to medieval Morocco.

As we arrive, we see masses of people in long lines to receive aid and supplies.

The lines wrap around the building. Families are three deep, many carrying all of their possessions or pull them alongside them in carts.

“This is one of the outpost of one of the king’s ancestors long ago.” This fortress was built here because the Bedouins advised General Darrian this plateau would withstand the great quakes when that they came. They have millennia of history within the oral history of the tribes.” The queen informs me as I take in the sheer enormity of what Hassan and the King have brought together to help the people.

Volunteers work unceasingly, passing out everything from water, medical supplies, food. There is even a line of people sitting and eating food that is served.

“I feel like we are going to be in the way of what the first responders are trying to do here.” I tell the queen as the vehicle pulls to a stop in front of a group of tents that have been erected.

Our security teams are already waiting for us. Having been informed of our expected arrival by the palace.

“Oh no, my dear, the people will be glad to have us. We are here to work and I know from every thing my sons, daughter and Khadijah have told me about your work ethic. This little excursion will be nothing to you.” She assures me with a determined glint in her eyes.

I nearly stumble at her words. Not the unfortunate bit mentioning Hassan’s former fiancée, but the part about him speaking about me at all, let alone about how hard I work. Not that it’s not known the world over.

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