“We have similar problems with certain members of The Most High Council in Zamibia. They can always find money for their pet projects like expanding training facilities for the soldiers in their communities or paying for grander buildings and furniture for their administrative offices. But there’s always a budgetary crisis whenever we need to fund programs for the less fortunate. Dahlia said the same problems exist in the United States. Extremists weaponize Christianity and use it against the poor, the less fortunate, and to limit women’s rights and protections in favor of men. Like many people who want to keep power, they blame the less fortunate for their own plight and prefer to have an uneducated population because they’re easier to control.”
Yasmin shook her head in disgust. “I wish we could get rid of the whole lot of them.”
They both laughed.
Yasmin’s phone beeped when they left the dead zone where there was no cellular signal. She glanced down at the screen and frowned.
“What’s wrong?” Imani asked.
“Farouk sent me a text. This Hilton deal is so stressful. It’s his biggest one yet, and he’s very worried. I have to do my wifely duty and convince him he can handle the project.” She tapped out a message.
They had such a cute relationship. They stayed in close contact with each other and were always holding hands or if they were seated together, Yasmin would rest her head on his shoulder. And it was clear how much Farouk adored his wife and respected her opinions. Her support and ideas were an integral part of their relationship.
Imani tamped down the bit of envy she experienced, disappointed that she was in a very different situation. There was no evidence that Wasim saw her as anything more than his wife and the future mother of his children. He didn’t seek out her opinion and he hadn’t once asked about any of her projects.
Yasmin completed the text and asked, “When does Wasim return?”
“Day after tomorrow.”
“I remember when Farouk and I were newlyweds. Any time apart always seemed like forever. I know you’ll be happy when Wasim is back.”
Imani smiled but didn’t respond.
Yasmin’s phone beeped as Farouk answered her message. Her sister-in-law started texting again, and she stared out at the passing countryside, eyes traveling over the green hills, sheep, and horses grazing on the grass, wondering what Wasim was doing now.
Wasim lied.
He lied so he could exit a very important meeting, claimed an emergency and left two representatives behind because he couldn’t concentrate after his conversation with Imani. He managed to get through most of the day, but toward the end, he made up an excuse and opted out of the evening meal and the next day’s meetings.
As night fell, he stepped out of the elevator on the top floor of the palace and stormed through the halls looking for Imani.
When one of her maids approached, he glared at her. “Where is my wife?” he asked, tugging on his tie. He could hardly breathe. His suit, tie, and socks—every article of clothing on his body constricted him.
“She is not here, Your Excellency.”
“Where. Is. She?” He’d called all three of her phones several times and she hadn’t answered them once or returned any of his messages.
“She left this morning and hasn’t been back—”
“Get her social secretary to my apartment now. I will be waiting.”
“Yes, Your Excellency.” The maid bowed her head and ran off.
Wasim followed the young woman out the door and stalked to his apartment. He tossed his jacket and tie on a chair in the living room and paced the floor.
She couldn’t have left him, could she? Was she on a plane to Zamibia?
Traveling out of the country took a coordinated effort of bodyguards, airport clearance, and a whole host of organizing that she couldn’t have done on short notice.
Or could she? Imani was resourceful.
A timid knock came on the door. “Yes?” he yelled.
His manservant opened the door. “Zariah is here to see you, Your Excellency.”
“Send her in,” Wasim said, waving his hand agitatedly.
Zariah entered, and his manservant hovered outside the open door.
Poise kept Zariah’s spine straight, but fear pooled in her eyes.
“Can you tell me where my wife is?” he asked.
She held an electronic tablet in her hand and looked down at the screen. “A-according to the schedule, she had a meeting with Princess Yasmin this morning.”
“Where is she now?” Wasim asked, the frayed edges of his patience about to snap if she didn’t give him more information soon.
“I-I am not certain. There was nothing else on her schedule for today.”
Wasim walked over to Zariah. She visibly shook as he approached.
“Am I not king?” he asked, uncaring that he sounded like an imperial jackass.
She frowned and swallowed, confusion in her face. “I-yes, Your Excellency. You are king.”
“Then how is it that I am king and no one can tell me where my wife is? When I left this morning, she was here. Now she is not.”
She swallowed again.
“Where is my wife, Zariah?”
“I-I don’t know, Your Excellency,” she whispered.
Wasim leaned closer. “Then find her and bring her to me!”
Zariah closed her eyes, looking like she was about to burst into tears.
His manservant stepped into the room. “Your Excellency, we will work on this right away.” He bowed and without touching Zariah, guided the trembling woman back out the door.
The minute Wasim received word that Imani had arrived on the palace grounds, he went to her apartment. He turned one of her chairs toward the door, sat down, and waited.
She strolled into the bedroom like nothing was amiss and pulled up short when she saw him.
“Did Zariah tell you I wanted to see you?” he asked.
“Yes, but not only her. Seems you’ve been a complete ass to everyone. I could barely take a step without one of the servants telling me that you wanted to see me.”
“And yet you are here, in your apartment instead of mine. Like I knew you’d be.”
“I’ve been gone all day, Wasim. I wanted to clean up first. I told your manservant I would come see you shortly. You would have gotten the message if you were over there instead of here.” Her eyes challenged him with not a shred of remorse in their dark depths.
“Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you since I came back.”
“With Yasmin. We went into the countryside. She wanted me to see the work she was doing to combat illiteracy among the women. When we came back to Kabatra, we went to dinner together. Is that all right with you?”
“You could have called. You could have returned one of the many messages I left on all of your cell phones.”
“I haven’t checked my phones. I turned off my personal phone this morning, left one in the office, and the third one died while I was out.”
Wasim pushed to his feet. “I have been going out of my mind with worry. I even called your father.” He’d felt like an idiot, hinting around, trying to find out if she was in Zamibia without actually asking.
Imani’s eyes widened. “Why? I expected you back after tomorrow. Maybe you should’ve told me you planned to come back early. Then I could have been here patiently waiting for your return.”