The Sheikh's Baby Scandal. Carol Marinelli
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the palace hoping to get a glimpse of him. Usually there was just a small crowd when the royal plane landed but, thanks to the cheeky young Prince, the numbers had grown of late.
Never had there been more interest in a young royal. Kedah’s chocolate-brown eyes were flecked with gold and his winning smile had drawn rapt attention from the moment the first photographer had captured it. In their eyes he could do no wrong—in fact, Kedah’s boisterous boyish ways only served to endear him further to the public. He was as beautiful as he was wild, they often said, and it would seem that he could not stand still.
He tried to!
For the people of Zazinia, a dreary parade was made so much more entertaining when they watched little Kedah’s attempts to obey the stern commands that were delivered out of the side of his father’s mouth.
Just a few weeks ago there had been a procession, and Kedah had had to remain still for the best part of an hour. But he had quickly grown bored.
‘Control him!’ Omar, the Crown Prince had said to Rina, his wife, for the King had started to get cross.
It was so hard to control him, though.
When his mother had warned him to stand still, Kedah had merely smiled up at her and then held out his arms to be lifted. Rina had tried to ignore him—but, really, who could resist? In the end she had complied. Kedah had chatted away to her, despite being gently hushed. She had smiled affectionately and put her hand up to his little fat cheek, looked him in the eye. She’d told him to behave for just a few more moments, and that then it would be time to return to the palace.
The King’s silent disapproval had been felt all around. He did not approve of his son’s young wife, and certainly he felt that children should be seen and not heard. Omar had been tense, Rina had done her best to appease all, and yet Kedah had chosen to be impervious to the strained atmosphere and turned his attention to the crowd.
They had all been staring at him, so he’d smiled and waved to them. It had been such a break from the usually austere and remote royal shows that the gathered crowd had melted en masse and, quite simply, adored him. Kedah was funny—and terribly cheeky. He had so much energy to burn that he was the work of five children, and the royal nanny struggled with this particular charge!
‘Kedah!’ she called out now, to thin air. ‘I need to get you bathed and dressed so that you can go and greet your father and the King.’
He crouched lower behind the statue and did not respond. He was not particularly looking forward to the senior royals’ return. They had been gone for a few days and the palace felt so much more relaxed without them. His mother seemed to laugh more, and even the staff were happier without the King around.
Neither did Kedah want to change out of his play clothes just so he could watch a plane land and his grumpy father and grandfather get out. And so, as the nanny sped down stairs in search of him, Kedah ran from behind the statue and tried to plan his next move.
Usually he would hide in the library, but on this day he ran somewhere he should not. Jaddi, his grandfather, had his own wing, and there were no guards there today—which meant that he was free to explore. But his eager footsteps came to a halt midway there. Even though his grandfather was away, Jaddi was intimidating enough that Kedah chose not to continue. And so, at the last moment, he changed his mind and turned and ran to the Crown Prince’s wing, where his parents resided.
There were no guards there either.
To the left there were offices that ran the length of the corridor, and to the right was the entrance to his parents’ private residence.
Kedah rarely entered it. His parents generally came and visited him in the nursery or the playroom.
Knowing that he would be told off if he disturbed his mother from her nap, for a second he considered the balcony—but then chose to run to the offices instead. He had long ago kicked off his sandals, so his bare feet made barely a sound.
Even though he was in a rush to find a hiding place, Kedah stopped for a moment and looked up at the portraits, as he always did when he was here.
They fascinated him.
He looked along the row of Crown Princes gone by. All were imposing-looking men, dressed in warrior robes with their hands on the hilt of their swords. All stared down at him with cool grey eyes and grim expressions.
He looked at a younger version of his grandfather, the King, and then he looked at his father.
They looked so stern.
One day, his mother had told him, his portrait would hang there, for he was born to be King. ‘And you will be such a good king, Kedah. I know that you shall listen to your people.’
He had heard the brittle edge to his mother’s voice as she’d gazed up at the portraits. ‘Why don’t they smile?’ Kedah had asked.
‘Because being Crown Prince is a serious thing.’
‘I don’t want it, then!’ Kedah had laughed.
Now he looked away from the portraits and ran to a meeting room that had several desks. He went to hide under one, sure that he would not be found there.
Or perhaps he would, for there were noises coming from behind a large wooden door and he recognised his mother’s voice as she called out. He knew that that was his father’s private office, and wondered why she would be in there.
And then he heard a low cry.
It sounded as if his mother was hurt, and Kedah’s expression changed from happy to a look of concern as he heard muffled sobs and moans.
His father had told him to take care of his mother while he was away. Even at this tender age, Kedah knew that people worried about her, for Rina could be unpredictable at times.
He came out from under the desk and stood wondering what he should do. He knew that the door handles were too high for him. For a moment he considered running to alert the royal nanny that his mother sounded distressed, but then he changed his mind. Often his mother wept, and it did not seem to endear her to the staff nor to the rest of the royal family.
And so, instead of getting help, Kedah selected a chair and started to drag it across the room. The chair was made of the same wood as the heavy door, and it felt like ages until he had got it close enough to climb upon it and attempt to turn the handle on the office door.
‘Ummu...?’ Kedah called out to his mother as he climbed onto the chair and turned the heavy handle. ‘Ummu?’ he said again as the door swung open.
But then he frowned, because his mother seemed to be sitting on the desk and yet she was being held in Abdal’s arms.
‘Intadihr!’
His mother shouted that Kedah was to stay where he was, and she and Abdal moved out of his line of sight. Kedah did as he was told. He was not sure what was happening, but a moment or so later Abdal walked past on his way out.
Kedah had never really liked him. Abdal was always cross whenever Kedah came to the offices and pleaded with his mother to take him for a walk. It was as if he didn’t want the young Prince around.
Kedah stared at Abdal’s departing back as the man walked quickly along the corridor and then, still standing on the chair, he turned and looked to his mother. Rina was flustered, and she smoothed down her robe as she walked towards him.
Kedah did not hold his arms out to be lifted. ‘Why was Abdal here?’ he asked. ‘Where are the guards?’
There were no flies on Kedah—not even at that young age.
‘It’s okay,’ Rina said as she lifted him, unyielding, from the chair. ‘Mummy was upset and didn’t want anyone to see. I was crying.’
‘Why?’ Kedah asked as he took in his mother’s features. Her face was all red and, yes, he had heard her sob. ‘Why are you always sad?’
‘Because I miss my homeland sometimes,