‘What?’ she asked, sitting up. She was desperate to hear more.
Her father cleared his throat. ‘No, nothing.’
While she had resigned herself to an arranged marriage, that did not mean other things could remain as they were. ‘I still want to know more about my mother,’ she said, voice sure and strong. ‘We should talk about her, remember her.’
She recalled how Kiri spoke of her late husband, even how Azam spoke of his parents. They honored the memory of the dead by remembering them.
The king set his teacup down with a clink, upset. Her brothers glanced between the pair of them.
‘Sonya, that’s enough,’ Shahmir said, voice gentle. He didn’t wish to see his father upset, which Sonya understood.
‘It’s okay to be sad, Baba,’ she said, voice breaking. Her eyes welled with tears. ‘It just means that you loved her. How can that be a bad thing?’ The king looked at her, stunned. His expression softened as she continued, ‘If you never allow yourself to feel any pain, how can you remember her? How can any of us?’
They were all silent, absorbing her words. Sonya held her breath, waiting to be shut down again.
But then Irfan spoke. ‘She’s right,’ he said. They all looked at him, and Sonya gave him a small smile. Her brother nodded at her. ‘Of course it hurts, but I don’t think that should stop us from remembering her.’
‘She does have a point,’ Mustafa agreed. ‘All the best stories are revisited, remembered. And we all have memories; it’s only Sonya who doesn’t.’
Shahmir nodded, as well, understanding. ‘Baba, we have to be Sonya’s memory. Mama would have wanted Sonya to know her.’
Their father’s mustache trembled, his eyes glistening. ‘If that’s what you all want,’ he said, trying to keep his voice strong.
Sonya heard it waver—they all did. But: ‘Please,’ Sonya said now, her own eyes filled with tears.
Her father nodded and ran a hand over his face, releasing a long breath as he searched for the words. ‘Your mother and I were engaged for only a week before we were wed,’ he said, and a faint smile twitched his lips. ‘I only knew her for a few days at that point, but right away I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.’
He broke off, crying now, and Sonya’s heart broke.
‘Oh, Baba!’ She ran to her father’s side, hugging him.
‘I miss her so desperately,’ he said, holding on to her. Her brothers crowded around.
‘We miss her, too,’ Shahmir said, and Sonya saw his eyes were glassy with tears.
‘We all miss her,’ Mustafa agreed.
The king wiped his eyes. ‘I was afraid of this for so long,’ he said, trying to compose himself. ‘I am your father, and I did not wish for you to see me in such a weak state, but…perhaps it isn’t so bad.’
‘You aren’t weak, Baba,’ Sonya said, and her brothers agreed.
He smiled, touching her cheek. ‘I am sure you will be just as happy with your chosen partner as I was with your mother.’
Sonya hoped so, but at the same time, her heart sank with dread. She took a deep breath. She needed to put in more effort with the suitors so she could make the right choice. She was taking charge of her life and her destiny, and she was going to make it the best she could.
She was determined.
A week passed with endless luncheons and tea parties and walks, and events for each suitor to try and impress her. Jousting matches and croquet and hunting and racing—they were all skilled, all impressive, each of them winning at different things.
Then, she had private time with each of them: horseback riding with the duke’s son, a game of cards with the earl, and a visit to the library with the marquess’s son. Each day she had a brand-new outfit, meticulously and gorgeously made, perfect for a princess, but not perfect for her.
Azam felt further and further away, so different from the man she knew, the man she loved, yet she caught glimmers of the old Azam now and again, and it made her ache. He kept himself distant from her, still hardly meeting her gaze, but she felt him watching when she wasn’t looking, and she felt his presence keenly.
They did not speak, but he was always there in the background, in case of any wardrobe mishaps. Sonya tried desperately not to look at him, not to think of him, but it was impossible and painful, like pulling out tiny shards of glass embedded in her skin and no matter how many she pulled out, there were still others left.
At least she was bonding with her brothers and father; she learned more about her mother. They were all trying, which she appreciated.
Before she knew it, there was a little over two weeks until her birthday and her wedding.
