Tariq inclined his head.
The queen rose then, apparently with something to say. ‘Let us see if you are a true match. The people of Gruisea know best.’
Jamil was seated at the table closest the dais, with Lilah and Safiya down from him. They all watched intently. Murmurs stirred, then settled when the music struck up.
Tariq extended a hand to Aisha, and she took it. When they came together, he whispered, ‘Should we get the dance out of the way?’
‘I practised, you know.’
He placed his palm to hers. ‘Not with me this time.’
‘No.’
Seeing that they were about to dance, the guests cleared space for them. Everyone stilled to watch. Tariq waited until Aisha met his gaze before taking the first step. He led, and she followed, skirts swirling around them as they moved.
It was going beautifully until her toe caught his boot. She overcorrected and almost tripped in the process. Tariq righted her before coming to an abrupt, graceless stop. They looked around, then at each other.
‘I added a variation,’ she said, trying to cover her embarrassment.
‘Shall I fall next? For symmetry?’
A smile spread across her face. ‘I can’t see any other way through it.’
He flicked his gaze towards their audience. ‘It might be too late for us. I saw Shariff Mazin utter a prayer.’
A laugh burst from Aisha, and she immediately slapped a hand over her mouth. Tariq couldn’t help but laugh also. Her hand fell away when she saw him, and she allowed herself to join him properly. The sound curled around him, warm and disarming. This was his new favourite sight—Aisha forgetting herself and happy.
For a few seconds, the hall, the guests, his parents, all faded. There was only the two of them. Us. Aisha’s hand rested on his chest as she caught her breath. Once they had collected themselves, they resumed the dance.
When the music drew to a close, the guests applauded. It was likely pity applause, but Tariq didn’t mind. Everyone then moved to their seats to eat.
Aisha and Tariq sat at the raised table near the king and queen. A servant had already filled their goblets.
‘There goes our plan,’ Aisha whispered.
‘If you drink quickly, we’ll be fine.’
Aisha smiled as she removed her gloves.
Tariq reached for some flatbread, tearing it in half and placing a piece on her plate.
‘Too soon for the toast?’ Aisha joked quietly.
‘Just a little.’
The toast came at the end of the evening. Guests would be asked if they blessed the union, and hopefully the majority raised their cups. He glanced in the direction of his parents, who were watching them. ‘We’re at the whims of the king, I’m afraid.’
They both reached for the large spoon sitting on the tray of lamb at the same time. Neither of them was paying attention to what they were doing, and Aisha’s hand landed on top of his. Tariq heard her suck in a breath, and he looked up just as her eyes glazed over and her lips parted. She was no longer looking at him or the hall but somewhere beyond all of it.
Not here. Not now.
He withdrew his hand carefully, making sure the movement wasn’t sudden or suspicious. He didn’t know whether to look at her or his food or away. Her mouth twitched. Then, like a wave receding, she blinked rapidly and came back to him.
Reaching under the table, he took a firm grip of her thigh and said, ‘Focus on me.’
She did, holding his gaze for dear life as she returned from wherever she had been. He wanted to reassure her, to provide reprieve from all the staring, but all he could do was hold her gaze and wait for her to steady.
‘How long?’ she asked, breaths coming fast.
