Postcards From Paris. Sarah Mayberry
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we take a look?’
Anna hesitated. She didn’t need to take a look, she was all too familiar with the modest cabin. She should be. She’d been escaping here for years, to her own little bolthole, whenever the bleak reality of her life in the castle got too much for her.
It was to here that she had fled all those years ago, on being told that her mother had died. That she would never see her again. Here, too, much more recently, she’d sat staring at the rustic walls, trying to come to terms with the fact that a marriage had been arranged for her. That she was to be shipped off to a place called Nabatean to marry the newly crowned king. And look how that had turned out.
The cabin was her secret place. Taking Zahir there would feel strange. But somehow exciting too.
‘Sure, if you like.’ Affecting a casual tone, she started walking. ‘D’you want to follow me?’
They set off, Anna leading the way around the lake and into the fringes of the forest of pine trees. It was too dark to see much but she knew the way by heart. Zahir was right behind her every step, so close that they moved as almost one being, their feet crunching on snow that had crystallised to ice. She could sense the heat from his body, feel the power of it all around her. It made her feel both safe and jumpy at the same time, butterflies leaping about in her tummy.
Finally they came to a small clearing and there was the log cabin before them, looking like a life-size gingerbread house. The door was wedged shut by a drift of snow but with a few swift kicks Zahir had cleared it and soon they were both standing inside.
‘There should be some matches here somewhere.’ Running her hands over the table next to her, Anna opened the drawer, relieved to feel the box beneath her fingertips. ‘I’ll just light the paraffin lamp.’
‘Here, let me.’ Taking the matches from her Zahir reached up and, removing the glass funnel from the lamp, touched a flame to the wick. ‘Hmm...’ With a grunt of approval, he looked around him in the flickering light. ‘Basic but perfectly functional. You say it was a hunter’s cabin?’
‘Yes, hence the trophies.’ Anna pointed to the mounted deer heads that gazed down on them with glassy-eyed stares. ‘But it hasn’t been used for years. Valduz Castle used to host hunting parties in the past, but, thankfully for the local wildlife, those days have gone.’
‘But you come here?’
‘Well, yes, now and again.’ Was it that obvious? His directness immediately put her on the defensive. ‘I used to like it here as a kid. Other children had play houses and I had my own log cabin!’ She attempted a light-hearted laugh but as the light played over Zahir’s harsh features they showed no softening. He merely waited for her to elaborate. ‘And now I sometimes come here when I want to think, you know? Get away from it all.’
‘I understand.’ The deep rumble of his voice, coupled with the hint of compassion in his dark eyes threatened to unravel something deep inside her.
‘Shall we light a fire?’ Hideously chirpy—she’d be asking him if he wanted to play mummies and daddies in a minute—Anna moved over to the open hearth. ‘There should be plenty of logs.’
Immediately Zahir took charge, deftly getting the fire going with the efficiency of a man well used to such a task. Anna watched as he sat forward on his haunches, blowing onto the scraps of bark until the smoke turned to flames and the flames took hold. There was something primal about his movements. Hypnotic. Mission accomplished, he sat back on his heels.
‘I think there’s some brandy here somewhere if you’d like some?’ Needing to break the spell, Anna moved over to a cupboard and pulled out a dusty bottle and a couple of tumblers.
‘I never drink alcohol.’
‘Oh.’ Now she thought about it, she realised she had never seen him drink. ‘Is that because of your religion or for some other reason?’ She poured a modest amount into one glass.
‘I don’t believe in deliberately altering the state of my mind with toxic substances.’
Right. Anna glanced at the drink in her hand, sheer contrariness making her add another good measure before turning back to look around her. There was only one chair in the cabin, a rickety old wooden rocker, but the bare floor was scattered with animal skins and she moved to seat herself beside Zahir in front of the fire.
Zahir cast her a sideways glance, as if unsure how to deal with this situation, before finally settling his large frame beside her, sitting cross-legged and staring into the flames. For a moment there was silence, just the crackling of the logs. Anna took a gulp of brandy, screwing up her eyes against its burn.
‘So.’ She’d been tempted to remain quiet, to see how long it would be before Zahir instigated some sort of conversation, but she suspected that would be the wrong side of never. ‘What do you think of Dorrada?’
‘Its economy has been very badly handled. I fail to see how a country with such potential, such a noble history, can have got itself in such a mess.’
Anna pouted. If she’d been expecting a comment on the beauty of the scenery or the quality of the air, she should have known better. ‘Well, we don’t all have the benefit of gallons of crude oil gushing out of the ground. I’m sure it’s easy to be a wealthy country when you have that as a natural resource.’
Spinning round, his jaw held rigid, Zahir’s looked ready to take a bite out of her. ‘If you think there has been anything remotely easy about reforming a nation like Nabatean then I would urge you to hastily reconsider. Nabatean has not been built on oil but on the spilt blood of its young men. Not on the value of its exports of but on the courage and strength of its people. You would do well to remember that.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Suitably chastened, Anna took another sip of brandy. Perhaps that had been a stupid thing to say. He had turned back towards the fire now, his whole body radiating his disapproval. ‘I didn’t mean any disrespect. I still know so little of the ways of your country.’
‘You will have ample opportunity to learn our ways, our language and our ethos once you are living there. And may I remind you that Nabatean will shortly be your country too?’
‘Yes, I know that.’ Anna swallowed. ‘And I will do my best to embrace the culture and learn all I can. But it would help me if you told me more about it now.’
Zahir shrugged broad shoulders.
‘You say the war that brought about the independence of Nabatean cost many lives?’
‘Indeed.’ He shifted his weight beside her.
‘And you yourself were in the army, fighting alongside your fellow countrymen?’
‘Yes. As the second son, I always knew that the army would be my calling. It was an honour to serve my country.’
‘But you must have seen some terrible atrocities.’
‘War is one long atrocity. But sometimes it is the only answer.’
‘And your parents...’ Anna knew she was straying into dangerous territory here. ‘I understand that they...died?’
‘They were murdered, Annalina, as I am sure you well know. Their throats cut as they slept.’ He stared into the flames as if transfixed. ‘Less than twenty-four hours after Uristan had capitulated and the end of the war declared, they were dead. I was celebrating our victory with the people of Nabatean when a rebel insurgent took advantage of the lapse in security and crept into my parents’ bedchamber to slaughter them as a final act of barbarity.’
‘Oh, Zahir.’ Anna’s hands fluttered to her throat. ‘How terrible. I’m so sorry.’
‘It is I who should be sorry. It was my job to protect them and I failed. I will carry that responsibility with me to my grave.’
‘But you can’t torture yourself with that for ever, Zahir. You can’t carry all that burden on your