Page 222 of The Skeikh's Games

It was something Ahmed had always dreaded himself.

Clearing his throat, Ahmed got his father’s attention. When the Sheikh realized who it was, he let out a sigh and slumped back into his chair. Still, despite not looking overly thrilled by the sight of his son, he still motioned for him to come in.

Sheikh Itamar mostly just looked tired. Tired and weary and maybe a little frustrated, but Ahmed took it at a good sign that it was at the very least not anger that marred his features.

Ahmed walked into the room, letting the door close behind him, and then took his seat across from the Sheikh. For a moment, they sat in silence, then his father sighed again and said, “Do you wish to argue again, my son?”

Ahmed shook his head. “No, I do not. I would like to reason with you. I ask that, perhaps, you may look at this as you do a treaty with another country. There will have to be concessions to make peace.”

Looking suddenly intrigued, Sheikh Itamar straightened a little in his seat. He considered the proposal. “You understand that in a treaty both sides make concessions?”

“I understand that the best end of the treaty often goes to he who holds the most bargaining pieces,” Ahmed replied, not contradicting his father, but suggesting that he had a rather large bargaining piece.

His father still did not look angry, which Ahmed took to be a good sign. “Very well. What is your proposed terms? I must assume this is about your young lady.”

“It is,” Ahmed confirmed. Clearing his throat and sitting up straighter, he thought carefully on his next words before speaking. “I would like to suggest conditions under which Keisha may remain here in the palace with me as my wife.”

His father frowned, though he did not release any sudden anger in an outburst. Instead, he answered frankly, “Your mother will be displeased. She is already in a terrible mood and this will certainly worsen it.”

“Yes, but she is not Sheikh. You are. And this is not her decision to make.”

“Very well. What are your conditions?”

It took everything in Ahmed not to allow his mouth to fall open as he stared in shock at his father. He had never even imagined that he might get this far in the conversation, though he had hoped it. In all his discussions with his father, there were never negotiations. There was never the concept that anything Ahmed said might be taken seriously enough to be considered.

And yet here he was, negotiation with his father. It was both terrifying and invigorating.

“I understand that mother’s choice of a wife is about social concerns above all else.” Sheikh Itamar nodded. “But I also understand that this is ultimately irrelevant. This is not about what sort of monetary wealth or social pride she might bring to the table, because both of these things are worthless without something much more precious.”

Sheikh Itamar’s features pulled down into a thoughtful frown. “And what might that be?”

“An heir.”

At this, his father noticeably straightened and started looking at his son more keenly. Narrowing his eyes, he said, “Yes, an heir is important. But women across the country, many with far better social heritage. What difference then does it make to me which woman you have? I should rather please your mother and you shall come to terms with it eventually.”

Before the Sheikh could dismiss this entire discussion, Ahmed jumped in. “Yes, but if mother is the only concern here, then you must consider that there already is a woman who is pregnant with my child. A woman who very well might be carrying the next—the first—heir to this country.”

Ahmed’s father stilled. He probably hadn’t yet fully sensed what was coming, but he understood that something was about to be dropped on his lap, whether he liked it or not. “Continue.”

“If the child is a boy, then he is rightfully the next in line after myself to this throne. If I were to leave this woman at this juncture and she were to bring the baby to full term, then that child would be able to claim the title of Sheikh after me and before any other sons that I might bring into this world. And he would be right.”

Leaning on the hard marbled table, Ahmed’s father fixed him with a sharp stare. “And if she is carrying a girl?”

Ahmed sucked in a sharp breath. This was a gamble, a large gamble that might blow up in his face, but it was the only thing he could think to do. His father had made it perfectly clear after their argument that morning that he would not allow Keisha to stay. Wife or not, he would force her to leave, well taken care of, but ultimately doomed to be forever separated from Ahmed. If he did not make this offer, his wife and future child would be torn from his life and he would never be allowed to see them again.

“If it is a girl… then I agree to marry again. Whomsoever my mother feels is the best match.”

The Sheikh stared at his son long and hard before finally nodding his head. “Very well. The terms of our treaty shall be as follows. So long as your wife produces you a son during this first pregnancy, then she shall remain here with you as your wife and your future queen. If, in fact, the child is to be a girl, then she will be taken out of the castle, cared for, and forbidden from ever returning. You shall marry your mother’s pick.”

Ahmed did his best not to think about who that might be and agreed to the terms. He never told his father that if it turned out to be a girl, he was already making plans to run with his little girl and Keisha, as far as he could go. He would leave the crown behind him and live as whatever Keisha wanted, so long as he got to be with her and his daughter. His father never needed to know, in Ahmed’s mind.

***

It was a long nine months. His mother still seemed to be sulking at the deal he had struck with his father, but Ahmed did not care. That deal had provided him with ample time for the rest of the palace to get used to Keisha.

Naiad refused to like Keisha on principal alone, but Mahira was beginning to grow fond, mostly because she was allowed to feel the baby kick and she was allowed to pick out names for the baby. Lilac was hesitant, but ultimately decided that having Keisha around only meant that she would have one more person to dote upon her. They became quick friends after that realization and Keisha spent many mornings braiding Lilac’s hair with all colors of ribbon.

Even the Sheikh had taken some sort of liking to her. He appreciated that she was pregnant and went out of his way to make her comfortable, even sending in storytellers from across the country to weave bedtime tales for her when she was feeling uncomfortable or having a difficult time with the baby.

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