One Choice Read Free Page B

the hairclip and grabbed her brush, returning to the living room as she worked the tangles from her hair, a thirty-minute task. It hung past her waist, and if she wasn't careful, she would sit on it. Her mom used to keep it trimmed to midway down her back, but it hadn't been touched with scissors since her mother’s death three years ago. People tended to stare if she went to a public salon.
    As she brushed, she glanced in Anaya’s direction. The young woman had removed her covering, which revealed her hair. It hung down her back, sleek and dark. Like Cahri’s mom. Jealousy made her turn away.
    She'd remained in Belikara after her parents’ death because this was a comfortable place, and she loved this life. Although born in the United States, she'd lived here since she was a young child, leaving for a few months every five or so years to go home to garner more funds for the mission. Her heart belonged to this country.
    She took a deep breath and released it. She'd always wanted to look more like her Turkish mother with darker skin and hair. Instead she'd inherited her coloring from her American father, whose ancestors were Scotch-Irish. At least she could be thankful for a little color to her skin. It paled next to the natives, but beside her daddy, it appeared downright tan.
    Cahri heard Anaya inhale. Her footsteps, muted by the carpet, came closer. A light touch on Cahri’s hair caused apprehension to snake up her back as a flowery scent wafted to her nose. She inhaled with deliberate care. She liked Anaya's perfume, but she didn’t like to be touched by strangers. And this woman was, without a doubt, a stranger, although Cahri didn’t sense any danger from her.
    â€œYour hair is beautiful… different, but beautiful.”
    Cahri laughed.
    Anaya frowned at her. “Did I say something funny?”
    â€œI'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh, but I have never liked my hair. I have always wished to have dark hair, like my mother.”
    â€œYour mother had dark hair?”
    â€œYes.” She missed her mom every day. Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine her face. The view blurred. Anaya must have sensed her distress because she changed the subject.
    â€œI know all of this is strange for you. We'll get to know each other over the next few months, and I will help you adjust and teach you what you need to know about palace life and about the prince. You have been chosen. It is an honor.”
    â€œYou said that before, but I don't feel as if it's an honor. I feel as though it's forced. I don't want to give up the life I've created here.”
    â€œForced? No. You do have a choice. But to choose to reject the summons is to reject the prince and is punishable by death.”
    â€œDeath?” Cahri's voice squeaked. “But… but…” Her voice failed her. “Death?” She questioned again to be sure she'd heard her correctly.
    Anaya nodded and returned to the sofa. “You have nothing to fear from the prince. He will be a good husband to whomever he chooses.”
    Shaking her head in disbelief, Cahri retreated to her bed after saying goodnight. Anaya referred to the prince as kind. Would his kindness extend to her, a foreigner? What about the nobles — should she choose one of them or leave Belikara?
    Could the prince learn to love her? Not that it mattered, she wouldn’t be chosen anyway. Why would she be? No one in this country would call her beautiful. A curiosity, maybe. Beautiful, no.
    What would happen if he didn't choose her? She might be chosen by someone else. She'd heard stories about some of the nobles believing in the old ways — a wife should not be seen or heard unless summoned, and if she did otherwise, she was beaten. Cahri shivered. She’d leave the country rather than live a life with someone she couldn’t love.
    If the prince proved to be kind and honorable, he would be her best chance to stay in Belikara. She laughed.