Page 17 of Shâhzâdeh

CHAPTER THREE

Going back

XERXES

THE FLIGHT TO Tehran was always something that drained me. It wasn’t even the length of the flight it took to arrive, especially since I slept most of the way and traveled at my pace. It was the bullshit I knew would greet me as soon as I smelled the fragrant dry air of my father’s homeland. I had to be more on guard here than I did in any other country. The guise of family was just that: a lie. A beautiful lie painted under the screen of progressiveness and acceptance so that the masses had no clue what really went on behind closed doors. The number of times I had to dodge meetings with relatives who would come begging. The ways they attempted to force my hand the way they’d done my father’s by offering dozens of women they felt would be a proper wife. Someone that would force me to stay in the country and do whatever it is he wanted.

A built in spy.

My grandfather the king would love to tout family values, but I saw how family moved around one another. The entire palace and the staff loyal to him would do whatever they could to win his favor. It was a place of sycophants, which is why I never stepped foot inside unless I absolutely had to. He tried to use my American ways against me with the people, but when my American ways put food on their table while his traditional ones bled the coffers dry, I wasn’t seen as such a bad person. His case was further weakened when I knew the language and spoke it as well as a native speaker, knew the rules of the faith and had no issue with participating while in the country and could honor tradition while making way for innovation. In other words, I was the perfect prince. Something my father’s oldest brother, Ibriham and his sons hated.

The trip in was uneventful as always. The envoy that had been sent from the palace were at least two cars away from the car driven by Shoaib with Quentin taking point. The team that was on the ground was hand selected by Shoaib to ensure they were of the highest caliber. Since Sho wasn’t employed by my grandfather, I trusted him implicitly. Too many times, he could’ve ended my life and no one would’ve been the wiser. Hell, he would’ve been given honors by the royal family.

My home in Iran was outside of the city center in a town called Saveh over an hour outside of Tehran. It was close enough that I could get to the palace if I wanted, and far enough away that pop-up visits would be hard to accomplish. Not that they wouldn’t try.

The house had traditional elements and wasn’t nearly as large as the others I owned. Keeping a low profile while still being able to safely accommodate the people that worked for me full-time was the balance I tried to attain. The structure was the same thickened walls common here for insulation, with as much of the material sourced as locally as possible. The rugs were all Persian, and made specifically for this home in nearbyKashan, one city well-known for hand knotted Persian rugs. The artists I worked with in Kashan and then others in Naeen and Isfahan were all put on notice about our upcoming project. There was no way you could come into the mysterious land of Persia and not experience a true Persian rug in our facilities.

“Amoo,salam. it is good to see you.” I shook his hand and gave him the customary kiss on the cheek. Greeting him traditionally was a sign of respect and when I pulled back he wore a grin on his face. He’d already removed his shoes and was navigating the marble floors in only his socks.

“Baradarzadeh, you vill never let me live down zhese titles will you?”

“I call you uncle as a sign of respect. You call me nephew for zhe same reason. You give me honor by still claiming my fazer as your brozer despite how zhe king feels.”

“I am only five years older zhan you, Xerxes.” He squinted, his deep brown round eyes narrowing as he did. His hair was covered by a keffiyah but he removed it as he sat down, revealing his soft curly textured hair that was an off black color. Afshin always reminded me of what I expected pictures of Jesus to look like when reading descriptions of him as a child.

“Yes, but even wizout growing up wiz him, you still claim him. Whereas zhose who did have turned zheir backs on him. Zhe respect is appreciated.” He bowed his head giving me his silent acknowledgement as he settled into the sofa. “How are zhings?”

He shrugged and I could tell he was frustrated. “Zhe same. Nozing is changed.”

“Still zhe favorite of zhe people I see.”

He chuckled at my compliment and I knew he would try to lessen just how important he was to the people of Iran. “Only as long as your fazer continues to avoid zhis place. Vhich vill continue as long as zhe king has breath in his body. Of course, I can understand completely. I guess I vill continue to hold up zhe mantle he left behind.”

“I zhink it is more so, he would not avoid being able to do damage to zhe man who has insulted his wife so egregiously. It is his honor not his pride that keeps him away. “ I didn’t want my uncle to think my father had abandoned him along with the rest of the family.

“Something I can understand entirely. There are many times when I feel my emotions getting the better of me. But then I remember that I have a nephew with his own palace that he allows me to use as a place of respite. A place to come without the worry of losing my head.” He waved his arms around the room that he often used while I was away.

“Zhe Lost Prince will always ensure people feel included.”

“And I am zhepauper prince.”

“Pauper. If only zhey knew what was in your accounts.” Besides having a position with MC Corp’s Iranian branch, my uncle was well-educated, invested his money and had family income.

“It was very gracious of you to allow me your father’s income portion all those years ago. It has helped me do many great things.”

“You were being treated unfairly. I didn’t like it. So I made it right. It is as simple as that. But you have used that portion to fix the negative image of the Mahdavi family. To feed the starving and build community. The people love their pauper prince. So no, I wasn’t going to have them continue to flit away that money on idiocy like they do with their own funds.”

“They tried to make it seem like such a bad thing when you took over. Despite the influx of wealth that saved them coming from your mother.”

“People like to forget the bad times once they go away. They forget to plan to ensure they never return so convinced are they of their entitlement to wealth. To success. Even without working hard for any of it. The gratitude and effusive praise was cut off as soon as the check cleared.”

“How does she handle zhat? Zhe…disingenuous nature of it all?”

I ran my fingers over the embroidery on my left wrist. It was gold with the Cannon crest woven into the fabric. “My mother is a wealthy Black woman from zhe United States. Sadly, zhat type of slap in zhe face is what she’s used to.”

“So it did not harm her?” Given the issues that happened with Afshin’s mother I knew his surprised was genuine.

“I would not say zhat. I’m sure zhat like all people you hope you will be treated equally and fairly. But I will say it probably did not surprise her when zhat was not zhe case.”

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