Forever Betrayed (Forever Bluegrass #3)
Kathleen Brooks
CHAPTER ONE
In Rahmi . . .
Sometimes being a prince isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. This happened to be one of those times—a time when the full weight of responsibility and duties rested on the prince's shoulders. Zain Ali Rahman stood before his Uncle Dirar, the king, and the rest of the royal family, advisors, generals, and diplomats of Rahmi, a small island nation in the Middle East. As his uncle was currently reminding him, the Ali Rahman family had ruled for close to a millennium, and Zain was a very important part in the family’s, and thus the country’s, future.
King Dirar was understandably nervous about the line of succession. With the unexpected death of Dirar’s oldest brother, who was a father to daughters only, Dirar and his only son became next in line for the crown. Just a year following his uncle’s death, Zain’s grandfather passed away and Dirar took on the enormous responsibility.
King Dirar cast a fond glance at his brother, Mohtadi. Zain looked over to where his father sat with his mother, Danielle. Back in their permanent home in Keeneston, Kentucky, they were simply known as Mo and Dani. His father gave a solemn nod and Zain swallowed hard. Something that seemed impossible was growing closer to reality.
“Your father, Mohtadi, Prince of Rahmi, has abdicated his place in the line of succession,” Dirar stated. “It has been decided by the family and approved by the council,” Dirar spoke steadily on, “that you, Zain Ali Rahman, will become second in line to the crown after my son, Jamal. If Jamal and his wife are blessed with sons, the line of succession will thus be changed. But we must have a plan in place for all possible outcomes. To that effect, Zain Ali Rahman, Prince of Rahmi, repeat after me.”
Zain took a deep breath to keep his voice strong and clear as he swore to protect Rahmi, its people, and its lands with his life. His uncle, clad in a black suit with a red sash, pinned a gold brooch with the ruby of Rahmi in the center to his shoulder. Next the king stepped down from the dais where he had been standing and stopped before Zain. He reached out and pinned a golden oryx, which displayed swords in place of the animal's horns, to his suit’s lapel. It was the symbol of the royal family and only those with an official place in the line for the crown could wear it.
“This was your father’s. I know if the time comes you will lead our people out of the darkness that must have befallen us. You’re a good man, nephew. All it takes is one good man to make a difference in the world.”
Zain shook his uncle’s hand as the national anthem played triumphantly. Everyone rose and turned to face the red flag with the white stripe in the middle and a black outline of the oryx head in the center. He’d just become the spare heir. The weight of the responsibility sat heavily on his shoulders. He looked at his father who sang the words of his homeland, a place Zain had lived every summer since he was born but had never truly considered home. Home was in Kentucky. Home was Keeneston.
*
Two hours later, Zain smiled at the eleventh woman to be thrust at him. She was the daughter of so-and-so, an ally to Rahmi, or maybe this one was from an old noble bloodline of the country, or perhaps a diplomat’s daughter . . . he couldn't keep track at this point. They were all blurring together. His younger-by-a-minute twin brother, Gabe, was happily enjoying the women surrounding him on the other side of the room. Of course, he didn’t have the weight of the crown pressuring him and wouldn’t unless cousin Jamal died or failed to produce male heirs.
Jamal was a good kid . . . kind of. He wasn’t really a kid, but he sometimes acted like one. He was a few years younger than Zain and had already been married for a year. The wedding had been an arrangement made by his mother, Ameera, and his father. He’d married a young woman, barely twenty years old, from the right family with all the training for a future queen. He looked bored to tears and it could quite possibly be why, after a year, there had been no announcement of a future heir. Hence Zain’s uncle’s insistence on having the line of succession updated so there would be no issues in the future. Stability was Darir’s middle name.
“What a beautiful daughter you have, sir,” Zain’s father said smoothly as he joined the onslaught of daughters Zain was tolerating. “I am so sorry to interrupt, but Prince Zain is needed.”
Zain smiled and politely said all the right things to excuse himself. “You know him?” Zain asked as his mother joined them.
“No clue. But anyone with a daughter under the age of thirty-five will be positioning himself with you. Jamal and his wife haven’t succeeded in getting pregnant, a concern after the trouble Darir and Ameera experienced conceiving,” Dani said.
Zain looked at his cousin again. He wasn’t nearly as tall as Zain’s six-foot-two frame, but he carried himself with the confidence of a future king. He just looked like a bored and spoiled future king. “Why does Jamal look like he’d rather be anyplace else?” Zain asked his father.
“You think it’s bad having women thrown at you? You should try having the fate of the family line resting on your swimmers. And you can bet every single person has commented about the fact the princess isn’t pregnant yet. Jamal can either appear bored or kill the next person that offers suggestions on how to go about getting an heir, something I’m sure Jamal knows how to do.”
Zain cringed at the thought as Jamal and Dirar headed out of the room. “But you put me next in line for this pressure,” he pointed out to his father.
Mo nodded his head, now covered with salt-and-pepper hair. “Because I know you would thrive under the pressure it takes to lead a country. Some men are made for it. Others are not. You are a natural leader, and one who needs to be set free to change the world for the better. Speaking of which, I just received word that Piper is all set up in the meeting room,” Mo said as they slipped from the reception and headed for the king’s offices at the other end of the palace.
Piper Davies was one of Zain’s closest friends from Keeneston. She also held the key to what Zain hoped was a way to diversify Rahmi’s economy. He just had to pitch the idea to Dirar, Jamal, and the rest of the royal council.
As soon as Zain reached the offices, guards opened the thick, ornate doors. He saw Piper sitting primly in the corner of the room. Her dark-blond hair, which was normally in a messy ponytail, was swept into an elegant twist. She sat rigid in her black suit with her heels flat on the floor, a stark departure from her normal jeans and lab coat. It was her hazel eyes that betrayed her nervousness.
It wasn’t only Piper who was nervous. At twenty-seven, she was about to become a very powerful woman. And at twenty-nine, Zain was about to rescue a country for the first time. Zain gave Piper a slight smile as she slipped her earpiece in. He similarly picked his up and placed it in his ear, as his parents took their seats at the crescent-shaped table. He looked at his family and the council and took his place behind the podium.
Zain’s speech, given in the language of his people, was being interpreted into English for his mother and Piper. Similarly, when Piper spoke in English, it would be interpreted into Rahmian.