Page 10 of Queen of Barrakesch
“And look what he bought me.” She tucked her hair behind her left ear and showed off the diamond stud.
Wasim whistled. “Very nice. What’s the occasion?”
She shrugged, a blush of pleasure on her cheeks. “No reason. Just because.”
He almost wanted to call Imani and saySee, here is another arranged marriage that’s working just fine.
“He spoils you too much,” Wasim teased.
“There is no such thing,” Yasmin said loftily. “You could never be too good to a woman. Remember that.” She strutted across the tiled courtyard toward the vehicle idling nearby. Malak waved goodbye and Wasim waved back.
They disappeared within the Lexus SUV, and Wasim entered the building. One of the staff handed him a wet towel that he dabbed against his face to cool off from the heat. Then he took the elevator to the top floor and entered his father’s quarters. There, an aide removed his sandals and replaced them with a pair of slippers. He escorted Wasim toward the glass-enclosed balcony where his father sat in a chair covered in gold and oxblood fabric.
He didn’t announce his presence, and King Khalid didn’t notice he had arrived. The older man stared out at the water, which at this time of the day, with the sun high in the sky, glinted like diamonds had been scattered across its surface.
Wasim noted with a bit of alarm that his father’s robes hung more loosely on him, an indication that he’d lost more weight. He would need to have a stern talk with him about this vegan diet he’d adopted.For health reasons,he’d said, but Wasim didn’t like the rapid weight loss. He and Yasmin had discussed their father’s appearance once before, and he’d bring it to her attention again so they could address the issue with him.
The king seemed to be focused on his yacht moored in the water, but Wasim suspected that he wasn’t really looking at it. Under theghutraand long beard peppered with gray, he seemed…aggrieved. The expression on his face pricked Wasim’s heart, and he wondered if he was thinking about Wasim’s mother again. The anniversary of her death would be in a few weeks.
King Khalid’s second wife, her children, and staff resided on the fifth floor in the east wing. His third wife resided on the fourth floor in the east wing. He lived on the top floor in his own apartment, alone ever since his first wife, Wasim’s mother, had tragically drowned. Twenty-six years had passed since her death.
At one time, Wasim had assumed his father had moved on. But after he hadn’t moved either of his new wives into the queen’s apartment on the sixth floor, he realized his father had not. His new wives had kept him from being lonely over the years, but they’d never replaced her in his heart.
He moved closer and his father glanced over at him, his face brightening.
“As-salamu alaikum, Walidi.” He bowed slightly.
“Waalaikumassalaam.” King Khalid opened his arms, inviting him in for a hug.
Wasim embraced him, noting again the lack of bulk in his body since the last time he’d seen him. “You looked deep in thought.”
King Khalid nodded. “I was. Thinking about a lot of things.” His tone sounded rather serious—downright grave. He waved at the food spread out on the table between them. “Have something?”
Wasim shook his head. “I ate an early lunch, but I’ll have a drink.”
King Khalid called for one of the servants standing nearby, who immediately filled a glass withjellaband then stepped back, inconspicuous against the window.
Wasim sipped the cold drink in appreciation. Then he handed over one of the reports to his father. “Where is Akmal?”
“Running late, as usual,” his father replied, pursing his lips in annoyance. “At least he called this time.”
There was nothing his father hated more than tardiness, and Akmal seemed bound and determined to make his blood pressure spike by constantly showing up late to meetings and events. He was young—only twenty-five—but not too young to know better.
“Everything set for the technology expo in a couple of weeks?” his father asked.
“Yes. So far, so good. I’m convinced it’s going to be a success.”
This was a project he’d been planning for years—to have an expo that focused on technology—highlighting innovations in cybersecurity, high-tech, and robotics, and bringing together companies from the Arab world to create partnerships. But his vision had taken on a life of its own and become larger than expected, pulling international interest that expanded the attendees well beyond his expectations.
“Good. I won’t be able to attend, but you don’t need me there anyway, this is your project.” King Khalid set aside the report. “Before we get started with that, I wanted to talk to you. Alone.”
As he dismissed the servants hovering nearby, unease settled in the pit of Wasim’s stomach. The other night when he’d gotten the message he’d immediately sensed that something was wrong but had brushed aside his concerns since then. Now they resurged anew.
When they were alone, his father looked at him, his expression so morose—so defeated—panic clutched at his abdomen.
“Walidi, what is it?” Fully focused, Wasim set aside his report.
“I don’t know how to say this. I haven’t gotten used to the idea myself.”
