Black Keys Read online

  “Mr. Yoseph told Princess Janna that you were almost the same size; she did all of the shopping. As for the underwear and lingerie, she brought different sizes, and I choose the ones that I thought would fit. Are they all right?”

  “Yeah, they’re perfect. Thank you,” I replied, trying to hide the sorrow that I felt in my heart at the mention of my brother’s name, even if she couldn’t say it right.

  It hurt so badly, knowing how much he had planned this: how easy it had been for him to get me here, how he told others about my size and tastes, knowing that I’d be staying here until I die.

  I felt the tears welling in my eyes, but I shrugged them away. He wasn’t worthy of my tears, but it just saddened me beyond words every time I learned more about how far he had gone with his betrayal.

  When I was finished dressing, I let Mona do her thing with my hair without objecting. It seemed to please her to be able to do her ‘job’, and to be honest, I was feeling so tired, and it was such a nice treat to have someone else hot-drying my hair and then brushing it for me.

  In the reflection of the mirror that was attached to the dresser I was sitting in front of, I saw Mona smiling–but to herself, not to me–as she brushed my hair. I smiled politely when her eyes caught mine, but we didn’t say anything.

  “We were so worried about you, Princess,” she said as she ran the brush through my blond locks.

  “We?” I asked, even though I knew who she meant, but still needed confirmation–no idea why.

  “The prince and I,” she told me, and when I didn’t reply, she went on. “You were unconscious, and I was barely able to feed you the drink I made of the heeling herbs, but given your fever broke within the hour, I can say you had enough to make it work,”

  He was worried about me?

  “Uh, thank you,”

  “Not at all, Princess.” She smiled that smile she had before again. “Prince Mazen was so worried, he stayed up all night, replacing the towels we put over your head, he wouldn’t allow me to do it.”

  He stayed up all night?

  “Seeing how you were affected by his closeness and how it comforted you–even when you were passed out–was such a sight to hold, I’m so glad you grew so fond of each other so fast,”

  Oh!

  Was he the one who brushed my tears away?

  Was the hand that soothed me his own?

  I was comforted by his closeness? The thought startled me. But, soon, I was sighing at the realization that I knew that I was pleased with his closeness the second I woke up to his face.

  What’s going on with me?

  What’s happening inside my heart?

  What’s going on inside my head?

  “Here, all set,” Mona smiled. “You look so beautiful,”

  “Thank you, Mona,” I smiled back.

  She touched my forehead with her hand and her smile grew, “The fever is all gone, Alhamdulilah,”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you need anything?” she asked.

  “No, thank you,” I replied, then stopped her when she was about to turn around. “Wait! Uh, what does that word mean?”

  “Which word? Alhamdulilah?”

  I nodded.

  “It means ‘Praise the Lord’ or ‘Thanks to Allah’,” she told me.

  “Allah?”

  “It’s God’s name.”

  “You’re awake! Alhamdulilah! Alhamdulilah!” The prince’s words rang in my ears.

  He thanked his God that I was well!

  Did he care for me?

  Why the heck did I care?

  I was roused from my thoughts at the sound of knocking on glass. I looked to see Mona knocking on the mirror that separated the sunroom from the bedroom. I didn’t even realize she had walked away, too caught up with my thoughts. She then opened the door and looked inside, saying something in Arabic that sounded like a question. She nodded after a moment, then went and opened another hidden door–that I thought was part of the wall–and went inside, coming out after a few with folded clothes in her hands then disappearing into the bathroom once more.

  Was that a walk-in closet?

  I watched Mona as she left, after she told the prince what I supposed was that the bathroom was ready for his shower. Wondering briefly if she was going to come back and help him getting dressed, too. But then shrugged the thought away, it was silly.

  The prince didn’t glance my way, as he made his to the bathroom.

  I stood up and went to gaze out at the window again. I stayed there not knowing what to do with myself, wondering if I should apologize to the prince when he came out, knowing that I had to. I’d already hurt him with so many words, on so many different occasions.

  No longer than ten minutes later, the prince came out, dressed in another pair of black sweatpants and a gray shirt, looking all fresh and clean with his damp hair and handsome face.

  My heart beat faster when he moved in my direction, anger no longer present in his eyes.

  “How are you feeling now?” he asked, his voice soft and comforting.

  “I feel okay, thank you for asking,” I replied, knowing that it was the first polite words I’d ever said to him. It made me sad and embarrassed at the same time, because he’d yet to show me any sign of rudeness.

  He called you a filthy American.

  I pushed the whisper in my head away, he’d apologized for that, and I’d forced him into saying it by my hurtful words.

  He offered me a small smile. “Did you have any trouble with your stomach before?”

  Huh?

  “Sorry?”

  “Your stomach. You had a fever when you were exposed to cold weather, but you’re not coughing or having a runny nose or so on. I believe that you have a sensitive stomach, that’s why you couldn’t handle the sudden change in the weather, especially after having a hot drink,” he said.

  “Uh, I’ve had stomach aches every now and then,” I replied, confused as to how he knew these things, or why he was asking about it.

  “Did you mostly feel it after you ate fried food or when you were very hungry or very full?”

  I nodded, blinking rapidly.

  “Like I suspected,” he stated. “I could prescribe you something to help you in the long term; I’m not convinced with the healing herbs; It might remove the symptoms, but it doesn’t cure the illness like medications do.”

  “Wait. Prescribe me something? Is that okay for anyone to do that here?”

  Or, is it because he’s a prince?

  “It is okay for any doctor to do that, yes.”

  “Wait, wait, wait! You’re a doctor?”

  “Yes. I’m a doctor.” He smiled softly. “I guess your brother failed to tell you about that, too, huh?” It wasn’t really a question, and his smile disappeared.

  I looked down, sadness consuming me once again at the mention of my brother. But then my thoughts traveled to think about the prince and how I knew so little of him, not knowing why I had to voice it. “I don’t know too much about you,” I admitted.

  He sighed. “We can fix that, Princess. I mean, if you’d like to, of course.”

  I nodded.

  “You don’t know too much about me, either.” I said.

  “True. I’d like to fix that, as well.”

  I nodded again. “I’d like that.”

  He smiled, excusing himself for a second. I watched him as he opened the drawer of his nightstand and came back with a small box in his hand.

  “I was supposed to give you that on our wedding night, but…uh, I never got the chance,” he opened the box for me to see. My eyes winded at the sight of the two diamond rings and a golden wedding band that sat there. They looked so beautiful.

  “They are really beautiful,” I told him, my eyes fixed on the box held up for me.

  “Glad you think so.” He smiled. “Would you put them on? I don’t want anyone wondering. We’re lucky my mother didn’t notice.”

  I nodded, offering him my hand because I wanted hi
m to do it. No clue why.

  His eyes questioned mine if I was sure, finding the answer in the first genuine smile my lips drew since my brother left me alone in this very room.

  The prince’s smile grew wider, showing his pearly whites and a glow in his eyes. He took the rings and the band out of the box and placed it on the window ledge beside us.

  He took my hand in his and put the wedding band then the rings on one after the other, his eyes bouncing up and down between the task in his hand and my eyes, the smile never leaving his face.

  He didn’t let go of my hand when he was done.

  I didn’t mind.

  “First thing I need you to know about me,” he started. “I would never, ever harm you in one way or another.”

  “You shouldn’t eat that,” the prince-doctor advised.

  “Why not?”

  “Egg is heavy on sensitive stomachs.”

  “I feel fine,” I told him. The eggs were really delicious yesterday, with cheese inside–no clue how my not-really-mother-in-law had done that.

  “The herbs give you the sensation that you’re okay. It numbs the pain, and numbs the body’s response to it.” He took a sip of his tea.

  I left the eggs with a sigh–and if it wasn’t so immature to do so–I would’ve pouted, as well. They tasted that good.

  “Is cream cheese okay?” I asked.

  “Yes. Go ahead,” he smiled.

  I spread the cream cheese over the spongy bread, then leaned back in the armchair on which I was sitting and started eating. I wanted to have breakfast in the sunroom again, but the prince had said it wasn’t a good idea. He’s a doctor, so…I had to listen. So we ended up eating at the round table in the middle of the room, after Mona placed two chairs there for us to sit on.

  Yes, I actually said ‘we’ and ‘us’.

  I figured there was no reason for me to make this harder on myself. I wanted to know more about him: maybe it would help me with my escape plan, maybe through his talks I’d know more about the palace and its exits. After all, I’d had no idea this room had a sunroom linked to it, or a walk-in closet; there were just too many things I didn’t know.

  “Coffee is not all right, either.” He shook his head disapprovingly.

  Ugh!

  I nodded, putting the cup back down.

  “How long have you been a doctor?”

  The left corner of the prince’s mouth turned up in a crooked smile before he replied, “I graduated and came back here right away, just a few months ago.”

  Oh!

  “Here?” I wondered.

  “To the kingdom, I mean. I studied medicine in London,” he explained.

  That explains the accent…

  “That’s great. I’ve heard that the medical schools are pretty good in the UK.”

  “They are the best,” he confirmed with a nod. “You majored in English, right?”

  He told him …

  “Yeah, but I never got the chance to finish college. The company…I have no time to brush my hair, let alone study,” I sighed heavily.

  “Well, you have Mona now to do that for you, so you just got yourself some spare time. You can go back to studying,” he grinned.

  Such a beautiful sight!

  The grin was gone a moment after it was born and he continued, “For the next six months, I mean.” His eyes gazed away somewhere between his cup of tea and the plate that held the cup while he muttered the words.

  “Yeah,” was all I said.

  I won’t be here for six months, Prince dear, so…

  We lapsed into silence for a few minutes after that, while he sipped his tea and I ate the rest of my sandwich. When I was finished, he asked me whether or not I liked peppermint. He wanted me to have it as a hot drink, which he explained was made the same way you make tea. He told me how it comforted troubled stomachs and all that. I wasn’t so sure, so I declined.

  “I don’t like it,” I said.

  “Have you ever had any?”

  “Um, no, but it just sounds wrong,” I shrugged.

  “But you have to taste it first, and maybe you’ll like it,” he insisted.

  “I’m sure I won’t like it. I don’t want to taste it and decide it’s awful, then spend the rest of the day with a bad taste in my mouth.”

  “You can’t keep on judging peppermint without trying it first, Princess.”

  Something told me we weren’t talking about peppermint anymore.

  After Mona took the tray away, we talked a little bit more about nothing in particular: just a few words here and there about the room and all of the hidden doors – there were a lot, I might add. Turns out that this room was the main room of ‘our’ place. It was connected to more than one room, besides the bathroom, sunroom and walk-in closet. There were also the dining room, the formal sitting room, living room, kitchen and…the kids’ rooms.

  Kids …

  He also told me about another room that stood alone with no other doors connected to it–a males-only meeting room. As in, just for guys. Don’t even get me started…

  “So the whole floor is just for us?” I asked.

  “No, we share it with my brother and his wife, but you will never stumble on anyone else, I assure you. It’s completely separate.”

  “Wait, you have a brother?” I frowned.

  “Yes, Fahd is his name; he’s four months younger than me.”

  “But your mother said you were her only child. I thought she meant her only son since there is Janna, but with the language and all…did you just say four months?” My confusion was hitting the fancy roof above us.

  How is that even possible?

  “It’s true that I’m her only child, Princess. My mother is Fahd and Janna’s stepmother,” he answered.

  Oh!

  Wait, wait, what?

  “How come he’s only four months younger than you, and your father was still married to your mother when he had children with another woman?” I quizzed. “Oh! The king had a mistress!” I figured.

  “Excuse me, Princess, but the term ‘Mistress’ is highly offensive for you to use to describe my stepmother, let alone accuse my father of having one,” he said, instantly making me feel like garbage.

  “I don’t understand anything,” I said in a low voice.

  “I understand that, and that’s why I’m just telling you not to make baseless judgments without facts, yet you did it now–again.”

  “I’m not judgmental,” I defended. Who did he think he was to tell me that?

  The prince sighed. “My father was married to my stepmother first, but after three years of marriage and no heir on the way, he had to marry another: my mother, who got pregnant with me right away. It was God’s will for my stepmother to get pregnant with Fahd shortly thereafter. My mother was never able to produce any other children after that.”

  Head spinning, anyone? Yeah, me, too.

  “Your father had two wives at the same time?” I held in a gagging noise that I was desperate to make.

  “It’s not a big deal here,” he shrugged.

  Nauseating!

  “I didn’t see her at the wedding,” I told him.

  Maybe she’s even meaner than his mother…

  “She died giving birth to Janna.”

  Snap!

  Now I felt worse than garbage for the little thought in my head. She was dead.

  “That’s sad to hear,” I admitted.

  “It is; she was a great woman, very compassionate and kind. I was only...um, eight when she passed away, but I remember her well,” he said.

  “Um, how long ago was that? I mean, since she died.” I wasn’t really curious about that, but I wanted to know how old he was, and I didn’t know how else to ask him.

  The prince smiled to himself for some reason before replying, “Seventeen years ago.”

  Seventeen plus eight…he’s twenty-five!

  “May she rest in peace,” I prayed.

  “Amen,” he said.

  M
y eyes that had been looking down snapped up to look at him. Did he just say ‘Amen’ to my prayer? Did he believe in my God? Or was he just making fun of me?

  So many questions I wanted to ask him—like about this ‘Amen’–but I didn’t know where to start, so I said nothing. But another confusing thought came to my eternally-wondering-and-confused mind.

  The prince’s words…

  Seventeen years ago…

  She died while giving birth to Janna…

  Janna is seventeen!

  Only seventeen!

  My eyes widened and almost bugged out of my skull at the realization.

  My brother knocked up a minor.

  Oh, my God!

  My hand shot up to my mouth, as I did myself from the armchair where I was sitting. I ran to the bathroom, kicking the door closed after I stepped inside, and sagged back into the door, taking deep breaths to calm my sudden need to throw up.

  Only seventeen!

  Deep breath.

  In.

  Out.

  Seventeen years old.

  In.

  Out.

  A minor.

  I couldn’t hold it anymore and I ran the few steps to the sink, leaned in, and threw my guts up.

  “Princess, are you okay?” the prince’s voice asked from outside the door.

  I replied with the disgusting gagging noises I was making as I vomited.

  “Can I come in, Princess?”

  Same.

  Seventeen!

  “Mona!” I heard him calling, and–like always–just a few seconds later Mona was there. She knocked before informing me that she was coming inside, and then she did what she’d said she was going to do.

  “Oh, Benty,” was the only thing she said before holding my hair back for me. “You need to drink some peppermint.”

  “How do you feel now?”

  “Much better, thank you,” I thanked him quietly, as I handed Mona the glass of water she’d offered me to wash down the pills which the prince had requested her to bring.

  “It’ll take up to an hour until you feel the effects of the medication, then you’ll be better, I promise.”

  I just nodded.

  Seventeen years old.