Page 30 of Good As Hell

As we enter the cymbals and drums lower to a steady rhythmic beat as flower petals are thrown over me, my son and entourage.

For one panicked moment, I think of just grabbing my baby and running out of here, but reason comes just as quickly. Where would I go? There is nowhere I can hide from this man. He’s already shown me there’s nothing he won’t do to have his son in his life and I know he’ll end me, just like he promised if I dare anything to subvert his will.

There is a seat large enough to sit two on a dais. Once they lower me to the ground, my sisters help me from the conveyance. I walk over to the settee taking the short flight up the stairs.

Sitting down, I pull Ayaan up beside me. Soon, the room is filled with songs of celebration and love.

Looking out, I see my friends mixed in with the women of Hassan’s family. His sister, Amani, is there with an unreadable expression on her face. I know she must hate me after the hurt I caused her best friend. This should be her literal day. Because so many dignitaries had already confirmed we kept the original date. I had them send all the bridal gifts that came to Khadijah, though. It seemed only right since I took her fiancé. I didn’t want her gifts.

A steady beat of even louder drums and chants reverberate around the room seeming to come from all sides like we are under conquest. Men pour in from all sides spilling through the entrances. From the one we took Sadiq leads a group in a divan lifted in the shoulders of several men. His face is flooded with fierce pride as the king strides alongside him. They come to the dais and lower Hassan to the ground before me.

He stands before me as the crowd quiets.

The queen and king come to stand off to one side with Mother and Rob on the other. I do my best to try not to look at him.

Hassan looks at Ayaan and me, his gaze holding such fierceness I’m almost taken aback by it. I know then there will never be an escape from this mad prince. He fully intends to keep us and breed me as often as possible. The look he’s wearing further confirms this. He does nothing to hide his intention as he stalks up the stairs leading to the little sofa I’m sitting on with our son.

His shadow looms over me as he stand before me. I barely notice the Imam coming to stand beside him nor the words he speaks over us.

“Lyric,” his voice thunders for all to hear saying the words that seal us together.

Bending low, he presses a firm kiss to my brow. As he rises, he draws me up to stand beside him. His eyes bore into me, waiting for me to say the words.

“I,” swallow the words seem trapped in my throat. His jaw tenses and flexes. Eyes turning into hard chips of jade, he almost dares me to embarrass him in front of his people. “I” the words flow from me like water from the many fountains within the palace gardens, claiming my wish and desire to be his wife three times as I have been instructed.

He remains unmoved as he watches me mouth the words.

Cheers erupt the moment I finish giving way to chants. We take our seats on the small settee with Hassan lounging like he’s watching a football match with his arm thrown behind us with Ayaan’s squirming little body between us.

“Come here little man,” he murmurs to our son sitting him in his lap.

Now the gap in space is taken over by his thick thighs. I feel every inch of muscle and sinew when his thigh presses against mine.

The wedding festivities continue as the Imam speaks blessings over us and our family. I notice he says announces the proclamation of Ayaan being a prince and the heir. There is nothing about me.

I know from the hours upon hours of study with the tutors assigned to me that I’ve not been acknowledged in any other way than being his wife and consort. Not a princess. I’m only named as alqarin not sahibat alsumui almalakii. I may as well be his baby momma and nothing else. Though the contracts give me vast holdings and wealth, the prince and his upbringing is strictly under the purview of the king and queen. Without an official title, I have no more rights than I started out with.

He played me. Made me think there would be equity in this marriage. No. I played myself. Fooled myself into thinking he would do right by me. I should have known better. He never once said he was ready to move past me not telling him about Ayaan. This is his retribution.

I watch his trifling ass look at me with cool eyes as the realization dawns on me. Just how limited my power is. The hurt is deep. I have been the captain of my life for the last decade, only to have it ripped from me in one fell swoop by this diabolical motherfucker. I should have been a little less eager to make amends. Perhaps I shouldn’t have wanted to bring some sense of normalcy to Ayaan’s life so soon when he kidnapped usfrom the plane. I should have let Prosper help when she sounded the alarm I was taken against my will. No. Instead, I put my trust in Hassan and look where that got me. Sitting here with a man who literally holds my life in his hands. At his smallest whim, I could be executed. Hassan is all powerful here. I am nothing but his unwanted consort.

Stewing on the recent developments, I watch as food is brought in. Trenches laden with fragrant, steaming lamb, dishes of rice, spiced fruit and herbs, roasted potatoes, lentils and dishes of yogurt are set before us.

I take the small bites he offers me and offer him the same. It’s all for appearance’s sake. It takes everything in me not to smush the food into his smug ass face.

“Yummy, mummy,” Ayaan mumbles sleepily, tucking himself into my side just as we are being serenaded by a beautiful singer accompanied by a guitarist.

The melody is envelopes me as she alternates between Arabic and English. It feels like a giant sitting on my chest — like part of the dream is lost.

Powerlessness is not a vibe when you’ve worked so hard for everything like I have. All I’ve accomplished was hard won and now this prince has striped it from me like it’s a game.

“He’s asleep.” He leans over to not disturb Ayaan. “We should go before his sleep is broken.”

I cut a look his way then cast my eyes downward before any onlookers can see the animosity brimming there.

Standing with ease, he takes Ayaan in his arms and reaches to help me stand.

I take his hand, biting back the anger that I’m feeling, knowing soon I will be able to fully express my anger in our private suites — another reason I thought he wanted a new start. I’d been informed that His Highness was taking the unprecedented actions of having his family share his suites. Noseparation like those of most monarchs where visits and even procreation are scheduled. No, we will share the same space like normal families.

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