nothing else of note.
Out of boredom, she decided to sing. First, she sang an old Jahfaran song that her father had taught her. Then she moved into the songs she’d sang at Ka Nui’s. She ran through several of them, letting the songs reach deep into her and pull out the sadness and heartbreak.
This was the first time she’d sung with the knowledge that she was a mother and wife, and the hollowness that had always been there while she sang now made sense. She understood where that core of loneliness was coming from now, and she ached with the knowledge of what she’d lost.
She wanted her child. She wanted to see him and hold him. She didn’t know what it felt like to be a mother, but she could think of nothing else now that she knew she’d had a baby. Always before, she’d been somewhat wary of children. She didn’t know what to say to them, didn’t know how to soothe them or amuse them.
But now, in the space of a few hours, she was surprised at how desperately she wanted to hold a child.
Her child. She wouldn’t know what to say or do, but she would learn.
She
wanted
to learn.
And Adan wanted to deprive her of that. Anger welled up inside her, and desperation. How could she fight a king? She was here so he could divorce her, no other reason. He would hustle her out of the palace and back to Hawaii as soon as it was done. Tonight, perhaps.
She stood up and paced to the door in frustration. She knew she’d find a servant sitting on the other side, but what if he was gone? It might be her one and only chance to escape this room. Isabella jerked open the door—and froze, the song in her throat dying away.
The servant was indeed sitting beside the door, but it was the old woman standing in the corridor, holding a small child, that had Isabella’s full attention.
The boy’s eyes were fixed on her, his little mouth hanging open in surprise. Her eyes drank him in greedily. He had the black curls and eyes of his father—but he had her nose and chin. He was the most beautiful little boy she’d ever seen.
She wanted to reach for him, but he suddenly burst into tears.
“Oh, no, please, I’m sorry,” she said, taking a step toward them with her hand held out. But then she stopped, her heart breaking as Rafiq continued to cry. She desperately wanted to hold him and soothe him, but he didn’t know her. He turned his head into the neck of the old woman and wailed.
“It’s not your fault,
sitt,”
she said. “He wants you to sing. We stopped because of the singing.”
Isabella bit back a choked sound that was half sob,half laugh. Her heart ached, and yet it was swelling with love for this baby who was half hers.
“Of course,” she said. “But why don’t you come in, it will be more comfortable. And then I will sing for as long as he likes.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed, as if she were seeing Isabella for the first time. She ran her hand up and down the boy’s back, crooning to him. Then she glanced down at the child in her arms and back at Isabella, as if she were considering something.
“Yes,” she said after a long pause. “We will come.”
Adan shoved back from his desk. It was time to call it a day. After the solicitor had left, he’d spoken with Jasmine and told her the truth of what was going on. She’d been so silent on the other end of the phone. And then she’d said, “Perhaps it is for the best.”
“It is not what I want,” he’d replied. “She is not what I want.”
Jasmine’s warm voice poured through the line like sweet honey. “She is still your wife, and the mother of your child. I think she has been brought back to you for a reason.”
They’d spoken some more, about the wedding, about the necessity of putting any plans on hold and about the coronation. Jasmine was understanding, gracious, and he grew angrier and angrier as he talked to her. Not with her, but with the woman who was forcing him to go through this.
Because he wanted Jasmine to be a mother for
Out of boredom, she decided to sing. First, she sang an old Jahfaran song that her father had taught her. Then she moved into the songs she’d sang at Ka Nui’s. She ran through several of them, letting the songs reach deep into her and pull out the sadness and heartbreak.
This was the first time she’d sung with the knowledge that she was a mother and wife, and the hollowness that had always been there while she sang now made sense. She understood where that core of loneliness was coming from now, and she ached with the knowledge of what she’d lost.
She wanted her child. She wanted to see him and hold him. She didn’t know what it felt like to be a mother, but she could think of nothing else now that she knew she’d had a baby. Always before, she’d been somewhat wary of children. She didn’t know what to say to them, didn’t know how to soothe them or amuse them.
But now, in the space of a few hours, she was surprised at how desperately she wanted to hold a child.
Her child. She wouldn’t know what to say or do, but she would learn.
She
wanted
to learn.
And Adan wanted to deprive her of that. Anger welled up inside her, and desperation. How could she fight a king? She was here so he could divorce her, no other reason. He would hustle her out of the palace and back to Hawaii as soon as it was done. Tonight, perhaps.
She stood up and paced to the door in frustration. She knew she’d find a servant sitting on the other side, but what if he was gone? It might be her one and only chance to escape this room. Isabella jerked open the door—and froze, the song in her throat dying away.
The servant was indeed sitting beside the door, but it was the old woman standing in the corridor, holding a small child, that had Isabella’s full attention.
The boy’s eyes were fixed on her, his little mouth hanging open in surprise. Her eyes drank him in greedily. He had the black curls and eyes of his father—but he had her nose and chin. He was the most beautiful little boy she’d ever seen.
She wanted to reach for him, but he suddenly burst into tears.
“Oh, no, please, I’m sorry,” she said, taking a step toward them with her hand held out. But then she stopped, her heart breaking as Rafiq continued to cry. She desperately wanted to hold him and soothe him, but he didn’t know her. He turned his head into the neck of the old woman and wailed.
“It’s not your fault,
sitt,”
she said. “He wants you to sing. We stopped because of the singing.”
Isabella bit back a choked sound that was half sob,half laugh. Her heart ached, and yet it was swelling with love for this baby who was half hers.
“Of course,” she said. “But why don’t you come in, it will be more comfortable. And then I will sing for as long as he likes.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed, as if she were seeing Isabella for the first time. She ran her hand up and down the boy’s back, crooning to him. Then she glanced down at the child in her arms and back at Isabella, as if she were considering something.
“Yes,” she said after a long pause. “We will come.”
Adan shoved back from his desk. It was time to call it a day. After the solicitor had left, he’d spoken with Jasmine and told her the truth of what was going on. She’d been so silent on the other end of the phone. And then she’d said, “Perhaps it is for the best.”
“It is not what I want,” he’d replied. “She is not what I want.”
Jasmine’s warm voice poured through the line like sweet honey. “She is still your wife, and the mother of your child. I think she has been brought back to you for a reason.”
They’d spoken some more, about the wedding, about the necessity of putting any plans on hold and about the coronation. Jasmine was understanding, gracious, and he grew angrier and angrier as he talked to her. Not with her, but with the woman who was forcing him to go through this.
Because he wanted Jasmine to be a mother for
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