The Chatsfield: Series 2. Кейт Хьюит
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not.”
“When we banded together, it was natural to want to come together under one leader. It was what we were used to.”
“You talk about it like you were there.”
He shrugged his shoulders. He supposed he did. Though it was something he barely gave any thought to. This was his history. “In many ways I was. My bloodline was there. It is not my direct family line that rules now, though we are the blood ancestors of the tribe that ended up taking control. It is a part of me.”
She shifted her position, and he turned away. “I’m curious, though, what it was that singled your people out as being worthy of leadership.”
“Do not think it wasn’t highly contested. It was no unanimous vote that brought my bloodline into power. But when war with a neighboring country broke out, a country that had long been unified especially in comparison with ours, it was my people who proved to be the greatest warriors. And it was in fact the death of our tribal leader in that battle, saving the women and children of another tribal group, that decided it. He would have been king, he would have been the sheikh, but he had perished protecting others. And so his son was made the first ruler of what became known as Surhaadi.”
Silence fell between them. There was no sound beyond the wind pushing against the tent.
“What a sad story. He sacrificed himself and he never knew what it accomplished.”
He turned back to her. “I like to think he knew. Whether or not he ever knew that it accomplished installing our family as the ruling power, I like to believe he knew in the end his sacrifice saved the women and children he set out to protect. He fought until he could not move, destroyed enemies, removed every threat, before breathing his last. I like to think he knew the most important thing his sacrifice accomplished.”
She looked away. “Well, it’s certainly a better ending. Even if you can’t quite call it a happier ending.”
“I like to think his sacrifice established what kind of leaders the Al-Ahmar family became. It is certainly the unspoken covenant that was made. That whoever should take charge of the newly banded-together tribes would lay down his life to protect the weakest among them. That he would not love his own life so much that he would seek protection for himself over others.”
She sat up, her hands folded in her lap, the recorder clutched in one of them. “Do you feel you do that? Do you feel you are carrying on the tradition?”
“Do I feel I am as self-sacrificial as an ancestor of mine who physically died protecting those around him? No. I don’t. However, I have done what I can to make sacrifices when I can, where I can.”
“Your marriage?”
He hesitated. This was on the record, this was an interview. One that would go out to millions of people worldwide. And as Sophie had already mentioned, the public loved a love story. But beyond that, he had no desire to hurt Christine with unvarnished honesty. That was assuming, of course, that Christine could be hurt by honesty, and he had doubts that she could be. But even so, sensitivity was very likely the better part of valor in this situation. Too bad he had not often been accused of being overly sensitive.
“I have always known that I would marry. For many years I had known it would be Christine. Ours is not a traditional relationship. We have not spent much time together, it is not physical. But it is based on love. A love for our countries. A desire to see things improve. If you see parallels there in terms of sacrifice, that is up to you.”
She leaned forward, green eyes intent on his. “Do you feel the love of a country is enough?”
“It is the truest love I know. It runs through my veins.”
“And you do not believe in love between two people?”
He had not picked her for a romantic, and indeed, there was only curiosity in her tone now. But still, there was something beneath it, something that fascinated him. Something that made him ache.
He thought of his own parents’ cold, distant union. And then he thought of Jasmine and her lover. Jasmine and that despicable playboy Damien, who he had once called a friend. Had that been love? An emotion so strong it pushed you to alienate friends and family and make fatal decisions? No, he had never seen evidence of love in his life.
“I am certain such a thing exists—” except that he wasn’t, but he was being recorded “—however, for my purposes this is the more lasting. This is more important.”
“Have you always felt that way?”
“No,” he said, an honest answer slipping from his lips before he could stop it.
“When did it change?”
He froze, his blood turning to ice. “Some time ago.”
“Was there a specific event?”
He gritted his teeth, feeling like she’d skillfully led him into a corner. Either he answered with some measure of honesty, or he refused. Refusal, at this point, would only make things worse.
“There used to be three of us. Myself, Jasmine and Leila. Jasmine passed away some years ago,” he said, trying to block the images from his mind that always came when he thought of Jasmine. Trying to forget the yelling, the accusations... “Grief like that, loss like that...changes you. It makes you reevaluate.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “For your loss.”
“It was a long time ago. But it changed things. For all of us.”
“Naturally. And anyway, in many ways your life is entirely different to the average person’s.”
“What do you mean?”
She brushed a strand of blond hair out of her face, and his gaze was caught by the elegant motion of her fingers. The action pulled his thoughts from the past, tugged him out of the mire of it before it could claim him completely.
She was all fine-boned sophistication, and yet there was more to her than that. Something deeper, something grittier and stronger. Were she only softness, were she only grace and poise, he would not be so captivated. It was the strength beneath it, the contrast, that held him in thrall.
“In my life I’ve only ever had to worry about myself for the most part. I mean, I certainly worry about what other people think of me, make no mistake. But only as it pertains to the way it affects me. You have to do things for other reasons. For bigger reasons. Your whole life is proof positive of the butterfly effect. When you make a small movement it really does affect millions. And I don’t think most of us can say that.”
“I don’t know. You’re a journalist. There is information you could bring the world that could easily affect millions. Or at least change the way they think about things.” He relished the chance to turn the spotlight back on her. To stop her from shining light on the dark places in his own life.
“That’s the ultimate goal. Although I never really thought of it in terms of what I did changing things for other people.”
“Did you not?”
“No, I thought about changing things for me. Because the minute I’m done making coffee and doing fluff pieces, I’m sure I’ll be able to see changes happening in my own life. Maybe being able to afford a nice new outfit for work. Not having to worry about paying my rent on time. Just being able to rest in the fact that I’ve made it.” She looked like she was about to say something else, her full lips twitching as though something uncomfortable was hovering over them.
“What?”
“It’s nothing.”
“It is something, or you would not look so much like holding it back was threatening to make you burst.” He knew it, because he’d felt it only moments ago.
She shook her head. “I want to reach a point where I will be admitted into certain functions. And when I am, I will walk up to my