"Your brother probably shouldn't be shirtless around the Princess but..." Zahira almost said one thing and then shifted. "... but he's an adult. And when he is practicing, much like your father, it's just easier for him to be without one. And who said you couldn't buy a dress?"
Without question, she wrapped her arms back around Zuma as she snuggled close. Her youngest had to ask the hard questions, had to ask the questions her mother didn't really want to answer. They had to be asked, of course, but she wished, sometimes desperately, she didn't have to give the answers she knew she must.
"If I had loved someone else," she murmured softly, "I still would have married Azhar. No, your father isn't mean and both he and I will always do what we can to have you be happy little one."
As much as they could, anyway.
Softly, holding her close as if protecting her, she continued, "Sometimes though... marriages must be arranged. Like with your father and I. And I am happy where I am, so happy. I would never ever want to be anywhere else, not ever." There was nothing but honest and sincerity in her voice- she really did believe that she was blessed to be where she was, and wouldn't have it any other way.