The Sheikh's Virgin Bride
Holly Rayner
Chapter One
Rashid
Here goes nothing.
As I waited outside the room for Hilmi to let me in, I went over what I’d say when they offered me the position of head of state. “It’s an honor and a privilege” seemed like a good place to start, although “I’ve looked forward to this day since I can remember” wouldn’t have been far off.
Indeed, my mother’s favorite childhood story of me was about how my father, wearing his most illustrious ceremonial robe, would pat my cooing head, saying “And one day, my son, you too will lead our people.”
Yes, I’d been waiting for this moment for every day of my 28 years—raised for it, groomed for it. And now that I was here, sitting with my back straight as a board in the velvet seat outside the great hall where I was to be crowned, the moment felt surreal.
“Rashid.”
I looked up to see Hilmi. He looked graver than I would’ve expected, and didn’t return my smile as he approached me. He had been the last supreme council member to enter the great hall, meaning it was now time for me to go in, too.
With a twist of foreboding in my gut, I rose and followed him into the hall. I’d been in the room a handful of times before, and yet, as always, I had to take a minute to pause, to take in the room that was more-than-deserving of its name. Although it was small, its soaring vaulted ceilings and golden walls and floors made it seem anything but.
At the circular black marble table, the supreme council was seated, all eight members. Although I recognized the men, and some were even my father’s closest friends, they all showed me about as much friendly recognition as Hilmi had. It was only when I sat down that I noticed my father wasn’t there with us. Already, Hilmi was rising, directing his beady gaze at me.
“As we all know, we are here to discuss Rashid’s accession to the throne, slated to occur in two weeks’ time.” His black eyes grew hooded. “Most of all, we are here to stress a tenet of his being awarded the position—one which we believe has been overlooked.”
Now, Hilmi had my full attention.
I sat up straighter and scanned the other council members’ faces, but their expressions were as stoic as ever, revealing nothing, as if a bunch of statues were presiding over this meeting.
When the slightly stooped form of Nabil rose, my heart fell. The man had always made me feel uncomfortable; now that he was the one reading out whatever “tenet” the council wanted to be stressed, I was downright worried.
Nabil’s stare burned into me for a good minute before his dry, gravelly voice sounded, echoing in the room.
“Before being named the ruling sheikh, Rashid must first marry a virgin, in accordance with our law.”
His words were ludicrous—and yet, his close-set eyes were boring into me as if daring me to protest.
Unintimidated, I rose.
“Surely you can’t be serious? I thought we had done away with that archaic drivel.”
Nabil didn’t even blink.
“The law is rooted in tradition. Every leader of Zayed-Kharan has followed it, including your father.”
I leaned over the table slightly, towards him. “Yes, about my father. Why is he not here? He wouldn’t stand for this either.”
Hilmi spoke once again. “He wasn’t able to make it, but he was informed of this meeting’s intent. And agreed to it.” His words filling the hall were the slamming down of a judge’s gavel.
I took a step back, my chair screeching over the floor. My gaze swept around the room to the elaborate frescos on the golden walls, then back to the eight officials who were so expressionlessly still that they looked like paintings themselves.
I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly. “I can’t believe this. If following this law was expected of me all along, why was I not informed of it, or at least given time to find such a bride?”
Both Hilmi and Nabil had sat down, their eyes—along with everyone else’s—glued on me.
“As it has always been our law, we assumed that you would have been aware, or been informed by your father. When it was brought to our attention that this was not the case, we acted as swiftly as possible,” Nabil explained, his tone blasé.
As my glare bore into Nabil’s, I remembered. A few months ago. It had been strange, father’s taking me aside at the family meal. What he had said had been even stranger. His face had formed a fierce scowl, his words had been abrupt, exasperated: “Rashid, this can only go on for so long. I’m getting ill. It will be your turn to rule, soon. Make sure you do everything that is necessary.”
I had looked into his aging yet intense face and promised him: “Of course, Father. For the family, for you, anything that is necessary.”
But now, in front of these impassive, condescending figures, I had to stop myself from slamming my fist on the marble table.
“Finding a virgin to marry…in only two weeks’ time? It’s impossible.”
At this, all council members rose.
“This is our verdict. Obey it, or the position will go to Idris,” Hilmi insisted.
And then, the blue-robed bunch dispersed. As they left, all the tension evaporated; they chatted to each other easily, as if they hadn’t just declared that if I didn’t do what was necessary, the crown would go to my family’s enemy.