On the walk back to her room, she replayed the details of their kiss at least twice and was well on her third mental reenactment when she walked into her living room, only to find Fatima waiting for her.
“You’ve been with Jamal,” the king’s mother said by way of greeting. “He’s a charming young man.”
Heidi paused in the foyer of her suite and tried to collect her thoughts. She didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. What she wanted was to escape to the privacy of her own room where she could relive the wonderful, confusing, exciting evening and try to figure out what it all meant.
“He’s very nice,” Heidi hedged. “But that doesn’t mean I want to marry him.”
Fatima rose from her seat on the sofa and held out her hands. “Come here, child.”
Heidi reluctantly did as she requested. When she was close enough, the queen reached out and grasped her fingers.
“I have known you since you were a little girl,” Fatima began. “I remember how proud your grandfather was when he first brought you here to meet us.” The older woman smiled at the memory. “You were so bright and pretty, not the least bit afraid of anything. You climbed up on my lap and demanded that I tell you a story. Right then you stole my heart. I had no daughters or granddaughters to love and spoil. I’ve had to make do with the daughters of friends. Now I have Dora, Khalil’s wife. I had so hoped I would also have you.”
Heidi swallowed, but the motion didn’t dislodge the knot of guilt in her throat. “Don’t do this to me,” she moaned as she tugged free of Fatima’s touch and took two steps back. “You and the king have been wonderful to me. My parents died when I was so young that I don’t remember them at all. While I grew up, Grandfather was always there for me, as were you and King Givon. I appreciate that. I would do anything to repay you your many kindnesses. But please don’t ask me to marry Jamal. I don’t want to marry anyone. I just want to work on the texts and live quietly in the palace.”
Fatima sank onto the sofa and patted the cushion next to hers. Her actions were so like the king’s earlier that day. Heidi felt as if she was being drawn steadily into a trap from which there was no escape. Reluctantly, she moved forward and perched on the edge of the couch.
“You are the kind of woman who needs to be married,” Fatima said kindly. “Not because you must have someone to make decisions for you, or because you couldn’t find your own happiness, but because you’ve spent your entire life wanting to belong. I know your grandfather was a wonderful man, and he loved you with all his heart, but Edmond was not prepared to raise a girl. He recognized his limitations. That was why he traveled with you in the summer and sent you away to the boarding school for the rest of the year. So that you would have the best of both worlds.”
Heidi didn’t want to talk about her grandfather. Even though he’d been gone six years, she still missed him desperately. As for wanting to belong—how had Fatima guessed her fondest wish?
“You’ve always wanted a home,” the queen continued. “Roots, a family of your own. I know you dream of having children. Don’t you see? With Jamal you can have all of that and more. You can be close to me, the daughter I’ve always wanted. This is El Bahar, my child. Your home. Come be a part of the history you love so much. Be one of the royal princesses. Have babies so that I might hold your child—my great-grandchild—in my arms before it is my time to go.”
She was drowning. Heidi felt herself sinking slowly under the weight of Fatima’s argument. The combination of guilt and dream-fulfillment was more than she could resist. She’d warned Jamal that she would be unable to turn him down if he asked, so she could only hope he was stronger than she.
“I don’t want to get married,” she said weakly, making a last-ditch attempt to hold her own against one of the most formidable women in the world. “If I did, it wouldn’t be to someone like Jamal. He’s too much of a sensualist for me. I would want a mental and spiritual union rather than a physical one. He would never agree to that.”
“A spiritual union isn’t going to do much to get you pregnant,” Fatima said blandly. “You might have to rethink that expectation. As for Jamal and his reputation with women…” The queen smiled. “You’re going to have to trust me when I say it’s not a bad thing. Having a husband who is experienced in the marriage bed can make for a very happy union.”
Heidi wrinkled her nose. They were talking about sex. People made such a big deal out of that. She’d never understood why. It was a biological function, like sneezing. It did not have any mystical power to transform. When the time came, she would happily endure whatever was necessary so that she could have a baby, but she certainly didn’t expect to enjoy herself. In fact…
A memory teased at the edge of her mind. Then, before she could stop herself, she found herself caught up in a flashback of Jamal’s kiss. Until this night she’d always thought the concept of tongues touching to be, at the very least, disconcerting, at the worst, gross. But now, having experienced that particular pleasure, she knew it was something she wanted to do again.
Was sex like that? Was she, due to her lack of practical knowledge, missing the point?
Fatima patted her hand, then rose to her feet. “Just think about it,” she said. “Nothing has to be done tonight.”
Heidi didn’t think anything had to be done ever, but she kept her opinion to herself and politely bid the older woman good evening.