Page 34 of Dirty Wild Sultan

I shook my head. “Yes.”

17

Nasrin

“You look beautiful, Nasrin,” Zain’s grandmother cooed when Zara, dressed in a gorgeous red gown, draped a golden colored lace over my head, my dainty gold earrings glinting in the sunlight.

“You look like a queen,” Zara smiled brightly, the staff asking to take pictures with me. Zara frowned at them when she asked what #SultanRoyalWedding meant.

I had forgotten that she had never used social media in her life.

“Thank you,jadati. Thank you, Zara. I am excited for the cake more than the wedding,” I grinned, my stomach tight with the anticipation of marrying the Sultan of Azmia.

The wedding gown, jewelry, my clothes, handbags, shoes and absolutely everything else had been bought and gifted to me by Zain and his family as a part of our marriage ceremonymahr,which we would sign duringkatb Al-kitaab. It was a small ceremony of the payment which the groom must provide to the bride, out of love and respect.

I tried to ignore all the luxuries that came with being Zain’s wife-to-be, because I could never get accustomed to seeing so many zeroes after a number in my bank account. He didn’t have to do any of that, but he had promised and argued with me that if I ever wanted to separate from him in the future, it would make him feel better if I had the means to take care of myself.

Yes, Zain was utterly stupid.Why would I ever divorce him after seeing how much he values me?

The staff helped pin the short veil as I counted to ten, staring at my reflection. The beige color of the gown looked stunning on me. Minor details of embroidery and lace covered the delicate gown. It fit me like a second skin, cinched around the waist and flowed down to my ankles. I wasn’t wearing my mother’smaang tikka,but I had it with me in the small stitched pocket of the gown. It would be with me when I got married, almost fulfilling my mother’s promise.

Zara was right. I looked like a queen with kohl eyes. But I was a nervous mess on the inside. I would share his bed. Again.

“Come now, Nasrin. Sultan is waiting for you.”

My feet were light when we walked towards the beautiful dais, covered in flowers and golden fabrics. My dad was looking anywhere but at me as he held my arm for the sake of walking me towards the dais. The small crowd stood up, cheering for me, when the music intensified in the background. Through the cheers, I could feel everyone’s eyes on me.

“That is going to be his wife. Ugh.”

“With hips like hers, I could see why he would choose her. Heck, I want her number—”

“Isn’t that the Princess of Maahnoor? He is marrying his enemy’s daughter?”

“Will she be a good sultana?”

“I bet they will last a year at most.”

“I think they will have a kid before the year ends.”

My face flamed hearing all the words, the hold of my father’s hand tightening for a moment. “Raise your chin, Nasrin. You are going to be a sultana in a few moments. Their words shouldn’t matter to you,” he whispered in his raspy voice.

For the first time in years, he had called me by my name with the same gentleness that I craved from a father. I reined in my shock at his words and raised my chin. Even though I could feel them sizing me up, I followed my father’s words for the last time.

Then I laid my eyes on him. Every doubt and nervousness vanished. Zain looked like a dark king wearing a traditional black long tunic that reached the knees with golden thread embroidered around the cuffs and collars. He looked like a regal ruler with a small golden sheath of sword wrapped around his shoulder to waist, the white hilt of sword’s handle peeking out. His brilliant hazel eyes swirled with various emotions when he gave me a small bow, offering me his hand.

When we were close enough, he whispered, “Are you okay?”

“I am now.”

* * *

After exchanging ‘I do’s’in front of theQaziand the guests, Zain and I shared a small kiss on the corner of our lips announcing we were married. My hand was clutching his tightly when the professional dancers performed belly dancing anddabke. The veil wasn’t covering my head or face anymore since Zain had removed it to kiss me. It was an odd feeling that despite watching the joyous celebration of my wedding, all I could think about was that tiny kiss.

“What are you thinking about? I am thinking about the delicious food. I am starving,” Zain murmured, patting his stomach when the guests joined in with the dancers. I could see a blur of Zara’s red dress twirling and swishing as she danced with them. I knew Zain would get a lot of proposals for her after the event.

I glanced at him, his perfectly tousled hair, his intense eyes, his half-smile. “I am thinking about the cake.”

“We can sneak one into our bedroom if you want.” he winked at me.

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