To Love A Prince

6.

***

For a very long time, Arafat couldn't say anything. He couldn't even think of what to say. His mind went completely blank, and the only thing he could focus on was the desperation in Nafisa's eyes.

He couldn't believe that she was here in his room, of all the places in the palace she could have been in. He didn't know what to say or do, so he simply stood there like a statue and watched as she took a step towards him.

It was probably her beauty which stunned him to silence, even more pronounced in the fading light of dusk. That face upon which he had gazed many a night and wondered if she would ever be his, nothing had changed in all the years he had been away. Even without saying a word, Arafat would always be pulled to her, like the needle of a compass always finding north. Nafisa was the only one who could have this effect on him.

But the image of her on his brother's arm left a sour taste in his mouth. Arafat had never been the jealous type, since there was nothing for him to be jealous about. But now, he looked at her and this unfamiliar rage stirred in him. It wasn't directed at Bello, but rather at everyone else who had contributed to making this happen. A little bit of it was directed at Nafisa herself, because it was she who allowed herself to be wooed by his brother.

"What is there to talk about?" he asked. "And why are you in my room?"

"I needed to see you," she said in a quiet voice. "I-I have to tell you the truth."

Arafat stepped into the room, and he shut the door behind him before he folded his arms across his chest. Her tears moved him, but he was not about to offer her any form of comfort. She had lost that place in his heart.

"What truth?" he asked.

"You know what I'm talking about," she said. "I need to make it clear that I wasn't the one who chose Bello. It was my father, because he believed that you would get married in Savia and I would never have a chance with you."

"Well, he was wrong, wasn't he?" Arafat muttered.

"Unfortunately," she said, trying and failing to chuckle.

Arafat tilted his head as he watched her, trying to decipher what was her true intention for coming here. Gone were the days when only Nafisa's presence was enough to rob him of his sense of judgement. He had not quite gotten over her yet, but he was also wise to the fact that she was not his anymore. Bello's name hung over them like an executioner's axe, preventing him from saying anything that would end up leading her on.

"When did this happen?" he asked.

"Two years ago," she said. "He would have ordered for us to get married a lot sooner, but as you already know, Bello can't get married until you do."

Another slap to the face, he remembered. As the older sibling, it was the law that Arafat had to be the one to get married first. It didn't matter whether he hadn't met any woman he desired yet. Bello was bound by the law to stay unmarried until he did. Which meant he would have to pick a woman to spend the rest of his life with, with the knowledge that as soon as he did, Bello and Nafisa would be married almost immediately.

Arafat turned away from her, and he made his way towards the window where he could put some distance between them and hopefully not be so distracted by her.

"I waited for you," he said bitterly, trying to keep the spits out of his voice. "Fifteen years, and I come back to see you betrothed to my own brother. How do you think that makes me feel?"

"How do you think I feel, Arafat?" she asked. "Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I went to see my father after you left and told him that I wanted your brother, of all people? I cannot stop this, Arafat. I begged for him not to do this, but he has made up his mind already and there's no going back. Not unless you do something about it."