The Royal feud✅

[13] J A W A D

JAWAD

Amna pats Raana’s jaw again. She can’t keep her eyes off the horse since I gifted it to her. I’ve taken Aqwa back to his stall. Amna doesn’t look ready to part ways with her new animal, but her stomach says otherwise. I hear it grumble for the second time. She looks down in embarrassment. I like it when she does that. Look down when I talk. The red tint on her cheek when I touch her, I like that I’ve such effects on her.

“As much as you like her,” I point to Raana, “We have to eat something.” I stretch out my hands. She looks at me with those eyes. Those stunning eyes I can’t get tired of looking into. I mean it when I told her I’m lucky. I’m lucky to have gotten a wonderful soul like hers. I tear my eyes away from hers when she places her hands into mine.

I look down at our perfectly fitted hands and close my palms on it.
We walk hand in hand towards the dining room. I’ve forgotten when last I’ve eaten there. My meal is always served in my chamber. I want to avoid depriving her privilege of eating with the family. I want to make her happy, anything to make her happy.

I look down at her when we get to the entrance of the dining room. She’s jiggling her legs and moving her hands in my palms. Is she nervous? I give her hand a light squeeze to tell her she isn’t alone. She looks at me then nods her head.

I hold her hand as we amble into the room. To worsen it, everyone is present in the room today. They haven’t started eating because the white ceramic plate on the carved golden sprayed wooden table is untouched. I see two empty seats between Abi and Khadijah. I pull Amna to the seat, ignoring the different gazes the people have on.

I pull out a chair for her, making sure she sits before reclining my body on the second chair. I greet the people on the table, not caring for their answers except that of two persons—Abi and Khadijah.

I cut out part of the chicken and place it on Amna’s plate. She doesn’t make any attempt.

“Eat,” I whisper close to her ears. Her hands are shaky as she grabs the fork, causing it to fall on the floor with a clinking sound. I hear Tahira sneer. Amna chair screeches on the floor as she goes down to pick the fork.

She mutters a small “sorry,” and continues to stab the chicken with her shaky hands. I snatched the fork from her hands. I’m tired of seeing her in this state. I pick a portion of the chicken and bring it close to her lips.

“Aaah, aah,” I say for her to part her lips. She raises her brows with her eyes widen. She shakes her head, but I ignore her protest. I place the fork closer to her lips until her mouth opens. A smile hit my face when she begins crunching the meal. I continue feeding her, forgetting the people around us. It is just me and her in our small world.

“I believe your wife have a hand of her own.” I ignore Tahira’s word and continue feeding Amna. The crease on Amna’s forehead tells me she’s not comfortable. I know by now I’ve fed her enough. I drop her fork on her plate and face my meal.

“The Royal princesses gathering is happening in two days time.” I jerk my head to the Malika when I hear her voice. She folds her hands and keeps it on the table. I can’t wait to be out of here. I’m not ready to hear one of the Malika’s boring talks. This reminds me of why I stopped eating here. “All the Amiras are expected to be present.” she’s looking at Amna now.

Amna fiddles with her fingers between her thighs when the Malika’s wicked glare on her lingers longer than usual. I grab her hand and tug it lightly. She doesn’t look at me, but she relaxes a little underneath my touch.

“Amna, we will leave by tomorrow, be prepared.”

“What?” I voice out, but Amna is equally shocked. We got married yesterday, and they already intend to take her on a journey. A not relevant Royal shenanigan, or what did she label it? “She isn’t leaving… she’s exempted.”