The Sheikh King's Chosen queen

18. Broken

The sky had turned from a dark blueish black to a rich purple-orange as night disappeared, and morning dawned over peaked mountain tops and golden deserts.

The new day arrived with a chill of freshness, cleansing but sweet. A rich delicious combination of frankincense and pomegranates was carried along with the wild desert scent of burning heat and wildness, capturing, clinging, touching and bathing everything within its wake.

Alone, she walked through the arched rose vined gardens with its footpaths made of thick-cut creamy limestone donned with intricate Arabic plaster work, beneath over- hanging tree branches, abundant with bright succulent fruits, and stone benches shaded by towering Ceil-domed gazebos.

All in all it was a beautiful morning. The kind poets could only dream of and lovers woke blissful and soft in each others arms.

On this morning it went unnoticed.

Troubled and angry.

Troubled. Angry. Confused.

It was a turbulence of emotions, ones she could do without.

She tried to recall if ever she'd felt this way before. And in truth she positively had not.

No one dared to speak or insult her in such away.

Much less hit her.

Furious didn't begin to describe her mood. On top of it was humiliation.

She'd not seen this coming. Wouldn't have anticipated any of this...not in a million years.

Then again who would?

Hadn't she spent years grooming her self for him? Hadn't she turned down a dozen marriage proposals just to have him? Not only was she the chosen bride and the future Queen of Zazaar but she was the perfect candidate. She was a true Zazaari princess and her father a very wealthy man. Her family could be traced back for centuries and it was time that a Faris to sit on the throne of Zazaar. She was the chosen Queen of Zazaar!

Sheikha Talia bint Jupur leaned over the oasis pool at her feet, her reflection that of perfection. Black hair perfumed with lavender and jasmine oils, her eyes almond shaped were clear hazel. Her face delicately carved, and lips full and lush. Talia smiled at her reflection.

She had no intention of ever leaving Zazaar, not until she had what was rightfully hers. Until then it was going to be war. After all daddy had promised!

He had sworn that she would be the next Queen of Zazaar.

And her father the Sheikh always keeps his promises.

After all, it was destined.

Talia refused to let some impostor to rob her of her legacy.

Her eyes flared with a spark, of defiance. Mischief.

And then she smiled.

It was just beginning.

............................................

"I should've just taken this to court".

Chanteel grumbled to herself, starting to sound like a broken record.

Damn!

I should've said to hell with it and battled it out in court.

But no! Instead I came all this way .

Chanteel tried to convince herself to leave. To say screw you Murat and get the hell out of Zazaar. Promises or not she just couldn't deal with this s**t.

However she didn't. Pride wouldn't let her run. Especially not now.

Something told her that's exactly what Murat expected her to do. Imagined him watching and expecting her to run. Questioning her word like she owed him anything. Giving him more reason to have her.

And knowing that he believed her to be that weak and predictable pissed her off all the more.

Despite all that she stayed. That and the little issue of being in love with him.

Yep!

There was that. It was pointless to argue now, to ignore her feelings and desire for the man. Sure she wanted him, and honestly had since she first laid eyes on him. But pride....lord pride was something. And she had plenty of it. So much so that Chanteel knew with certainty that she would have denied it to the last breath.

So she stayed locked up in her room bawling her eyes out.....ok ok.....maybe not bawl but it had been close. And when she couldn't cry no more she ranted. Oh the satisfaction.

Came up with some colourful words to describe Murat, that she had every intention of sharing at the earliest opportunity.

Amara and Zarif, even aloof and stone hearted Ahsaif came to drag and to persuade her to out of her rooms, to face the heat. The shame.

Nothing had succeeded until someone decided to play dirty.

They brought Beau.

Eventually the need to be with her son drove her out to face reality. And this reality sucked ass.

Everyone knew that something had transpired between herself and Murat. They speculated, they gossiped.

They did know that what ever it was neither party was in a good mood.

Chanteel had only over heard two maids gossiped, when she finally left her pity-party awhile ago, that Murat had left Zazaar. That in it self surprised her...just for a second.

Ahsaif was closed mouth, back to his old domineering self, and had her climbing the walls in frustration. Amara went about silent and busy with her duties. As for Zarif he was clueless as herself or pretending to be.

She tried to convince herself that she didn't care what Murat was doing or where he'd ran off to.

She failed miserably.

Murat.

His name tasted bitter sweet on her tongue. And Chanteel , was angry with herself for becoming vulnerable. For wanting. For putting herself in this situation. Her actions were results of treating Murat as a foe, from shying away from the burning realization that he did more than get beneath her skin.

Most of all she was angry with Murat. He was ruining everything and unless it was his way, she had no way of coming out whole and victorious.

It was an understatement to say she'd never met a man like him before. And she had dated and had the privilege of knowing some of the most beautiful and amazing men to ever walked the Earth.

Yet somehow Murat surpassed them all.

There was something about him , she didn't know what, but it was there like an annoying tick, and it bugged the hell out of her just trying to figure it out.

Despite her rich relationship with the men of her past, Chanteel always held some part of her hidden.

Hmmmmm , apparently it was so hidden that she herself had never recognized.

Then comes Murat.

With Murat coming into her life, she'd only then seen what had been missing for so long. What she had never experienced , thought never existed.

Well for her that is.

Now faced with the truth and armed with determination to have it all Chanteel realized this wasn't going to be an easy victory.

For one thing , she was tripping about like a drunk, uncertain of the next move. And two and the most important; Murat.

She was still trying to figure him out and that in its self was creating the problems. He still manages to shock her and she'd thought she already had him all figured out.

Murat held the upper hand and the uncertainty of his intentions were driving her crazy. It was useless to try keeping her walls up. It was slowly crumbling. And only fear prevented her from rushing right ahead and confessing to Murat just exactly what she wanted from him.

Such control Chanteel couldn't afford to lose.

And was determined to prevent it.

Only a day had passed since that altercation. The burning shame of it made her cringe every time. It was shameful.

So she had spent a day of wallowing in self pity and regret. Going over the tragic episode again and again, trying to pin the exact moment when it all went to s**t.

Chanteel convinced herself that touring the city and spending time with Beau would suffice until Murat returned and came looking for her. If he ever.

There wasn't a shortage of activities to do. On the palace grounds there always entertainment, never lack of company and discoveries to unearth. And a beautiful palace to explore. Despite the drama circulating the palace since her unexpected and controversial arrival Beau and herself was treated well. Their every need catered to. They were pampered like royalty.

That went well for two days. Her classes were going well, Zazaari-Arabic and Zazaar laws were the most challenging, and Beau was glowing and happy.

And if she didn't think of Murat all the better. That didn't happen as the man was constantly on her mind.

It was on the third day when disaster rocked and Chanteel was relieved she'd nothing to do with it for once.

Well not directly.

It started like any usual morning at the palace. Chanteel and Beau had breakfast prepared by their own chef, then spent an hour by the lap-pool, playing. Beau sooner napped beneath a gossamer canopy growing fat and lazily content with his pampered life as little king of Zazaar. Chanteel caught up on her emails, talked to her mother and checked in on the firm. Things were good on all fronts. Save Lysette continued demands.

Then she too napped.

It was already noon when she caught up on time. Fatima had claimed her charge, taking Beau to the nursery where he would spend the remainder of the day until bed time and Chanteel had just finished her classes and was heading to the saloon. She'd yet to try out the fully self contained, two floor spa, and was dying for a scrub and some pampering. A good deep tissue massage sounded good to loose up her tensed swollen muscles from Murat's dirty handy work.

Having gotten used to the staring, whispering and crossed looks from her roommates, it didn't bother her at all when several women broke away from the TV they had been watching. It was nothing new. People sooner clear out that remain in awkward silence. Find with her, she wasn't in the mood to chat.

They scattered, vacating the lounge, and that's when she saw the flashing headlines and breaking news.

No one dared to meet her burning hard gaze as they rushed out. No one tried to console.

Chanteel fisted her hands and returned back to her room.

To hell with Murat.

The Headline had read

" Murat "The Magnificent" to wed Princess Sheikha Talia bint Jupur".

And that was just the first day.

It got much worse.

It took an hour for all hell to explode over Zazaar.

Chanteel watched from the private sitting room as hundreds of thousands of Zazaari demonstrated at the news of their heir and future king, and the scandal of his birth.

That was what they were calling it...a scandal.

Though her understanding of the language was limited she did know it wasn't a celebration.

Then came the pictures.

There were pictures of her and Beau, many of them in New York, of her in court, one of her leaving a Charity Ball in LA with her then boyfriend , Andrew. Of her and Beau boarding Murat's jet in New York , of them in Paris at the little quaint cafe where they had breakfast surrounded by cut-throat body guards.

There was not a shortage of photos and the scandal that had hit.

Zazaar was in an up roar.

Soon the media hounds descended for the kill.

One nasty tabloid portrayed her as Murat's mistress in nicer words, claiming she intentionally got pregnant in order to trap him.

Chanteel refused to leave her rooms. Especially after seeing Princess Talia's arrival in the City and her grand welcoming by El Jazi Counsel Elders. The princess had been ushered in like the royalty she was, entourage and bodyguards in tow. No would mistake her place to the people of Zazaar.

Worse of all Murat was MIA.

How convenient.