The smile he gave Wasim wavered at the corners. Wasim couldn’t smile back at all, and the sense of panic only increased, tightening to pain in his chest.
“I’m sick, Wasim. Very sick.”
“Sick? How? What’s wrong?”
“I’m in the advanced stages of pancreatic cancer.”
What?Wasim’s lips formed the question but never uttered the word aloud.
“I was diagnosed several months ago, and since then we—my doctors and I—have tried to find a way to make this go away through alternative treatments. I told them I do not want chemotherapy.”
“That’s why you changed your diet?”
He nodded. “I thought it would help. I was willing to try anything.” He sighed heavily.
“Why didn’t you tell us? Me, at least?”
“I didn’t want to worry you, but the cancer is in the advanced stages. They don’t give me much time.”
Wasim shot from the chair. “No. There must be some mistake. We need a second opinion.” He was ready to handle the situation. “We’ll go to Dubai or Malaysia or Singapore. India! We could…”
The muscles in his throat constricted at the devastating thought of losing his father. He was already grief-stricken and his father hadn’t passed yet. What would he do without him? What would this country do without him?
King Khalid’s eyes bore the heaviness of sympathy, when in fact he was the one who needed sympathy. He clearly saw Wasim’s fears.
“Sit, Wasim,” he said wearily. “That’s why I went abroad. To get a second opinion. But it’s too late. Nothing can be done.”
“How much time do we have?” He remained standing, forcing the question past stiff lips.
“A few weeks,” his father said in a grave voice.
A few weeks! This couldn’t be happening.
“That’s why I wanted to talk to you privately. To tell you about my illness and a decision I’ve made. I want you to become the ruler of Barrakesch. I think you would be good for the country, but you don’t have a wife.”
“Walidi…” Wasim started with dread.
“Not even a prospect with the chance to start a family. You’ve turned down every potential wife your aunt has brought to you.” Since Wasim’s mother had passed, his father’s sister was responsible for helping him choose a wife. “Before I die, I need to know I’m leaving the country in good hands, with a ruler who is stable and can provide an heir. Since you cannot provide the peace of mind that I—weneed—I have made the difficult decision to choose someone else to succeed me.”
Wasim sank onto the chair with the heaviness of a stone dropping to the bottom of the ocean. He hadn’t expected to have to take the throne so soon, and he hadn’t expected his father to pass him over, either.
“There are already factions in the Parliament who think you’re too flamboyant, too reckless, and too progressive. With no wife and the possibility of continuing our line, their confidence will be further shaken and could result in unrest, upheaval in the government.”
“That is ridiculous! You said yourself that I would be a good king.”
“I have no doubt, but others have doubt. And a good king would make sure there is a clear line of succession in place. That is what I intend to do, and you would be required to do if you were king. I am sorry, Wasim. You’ve left me no choice.”
“You have a choice. You could do what you know is right for the country, not what a few hard-headed conservatives want. The throne is mine. It is my birthright!”
“Wasim.” His father’s voice took on an imperial tone, demanding respect. “The decision has been made. I will not change my mind.”
Wasim stared at the tiled floor of the balcony, anger and disappointment rolling in his blood. “When will you announce the successor?”
“In a week’s time, when I announce my condition to the country.”
“Who have you chosen?”
“I haven’t made a final decision yet, but I will soon. Son, you won’t be king, but I need your help over the next few weeks. There is much to do.”
