He’d wanted a way to teach Oliver, but Beau also had access.
He typed through security as the palace secretary said, “Excellent, Your Highness.”
And there it was. The royal family accusing another member of the royal family of treason, or familial murder, had the right to request an audience. There were only two reasons given for denying the request. One was an open confession in court, which Mariam didn’t qualify for, and the second was multiple witnesses to the crime from the royal family.
Otherwise it was required for the family to attend, even the royal king, and if not, the king was to issue a family pardon in absentia.
Sarah asked, “What’s going on?”
Mariam went free if he didn’t go to this. He put his phone on the table near the glass of juice. “My aunt is requesting my presence at her hearing.”
She shrugged like it didn’t matter. “So?”
He needed to go, but he also needed to ensure Sarah wasn’t put in danger. He had to convince her to stay on the plane. “Under Hoskell rule she’d be allowed a pardon if I don’t go, as she is my father’s half-sister and technically a princess.”
“So we have to go.” Sarah reached behind her and picked up her veil, attaching it to her head, the shawl settling around her arms.
This wasn’t wise. She needed to stay, but he stood and asked “We?”
She rose and gave him a curt nod as she went on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I want to support you and your family. When is the hearing?”
No. She needed to stay. His irrational fear of the unknown kicked his adrenaline up. His heart thundered a warning that her going was a mistake though he reasoned nothing was off at all. His muscles tensed. “Right now.”
She ducked past him, into the center of the aircraft as she pointed toward the door. “So we get off the plane and come back in a few hours?”
No argument that she’d believe came to his mind. Rationally all was fine; he couldn't explain that he was likely to die and he needed to ensure that she lived. She wouldn't understand that it was his fate. Just as it was his fate to fall in love with her. “Yes.”
She headed toward the door. “I’m ready. It’s fine.”
He typed on the pad for the pilot to release the airlocks and power down. “Are you sure?”
Without waiting, she unlocked the door herself and said, “As long as we stop all threats against your family, and garner support for your father, I’m happy to go.”
She struggled to open it as it was heavy. He reached out and grasped her waist to stop her. “One moment.”
Her eyes widened when he didn’t let her go. “What’s going on, Beau?”
Part of him, the irrational part of his brain, screamed that he should lock her on the plane and ensure she was safe. But irrational wasn’t him.
His rational mind was sharp enough to keep them both out of any real trouble, so he ignored the impulse. He'd make sure that she was back here, no matter what. Sarah didn’t belong in Hoskell and no matter what happened at the hearing, she was his way he’d live on. Beau pulled her close and bent his face toward hers. “I haven't had enough time to hold you.”
“We’ll have plenty of time soon.” Her eyes batted closed and her lips pressed to meet his.
Her kiss was fuel to his inner fire.
Sarah was the only woman he’d ever love.
The only one he wanted to love.
He let out a sigh as the kiss ended and traced her cheek. “I meant what I said. I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
If he lived. Not that he said that.
With his family around her, she’d continue on and he’d be just a memory to her.
She took a moment, but her eyes watered as she stared at him. He didn’t need her to cry, but then she squeezed his hand to hold him close and said, “I think… I might love you too but I don’t want to rush, either.”
His skin buzzed with adrenaline. Beau had every reason in the world to ensure his legacy lived on. His family and Sarah loved him and would remember him forever. He kissed her forehead and said, “Then I have everything.”
He reached behind her and twisted the last lock. Sarah opened the door with ease and she let out a huff as she said, “Don’t get ahead of yourself. We need to be smart, and besides, this is good for you.”
They went down the metal stairs and headed toward the tarmac as he asked, “What’s good for me?”
She walked so close he could smell her lavender soap and wished he could kiss her. He should have, before they left. “If you see that your aunt is really in jail, then it’s over and you’ll have peace.”
He pursed his lips as he thought about her words and then shook his head. “That’s not true.”
“It’s not?” Her left brow rose.
He shrugged. “No. I don’t wish jail on my worst enemy. The only good things that came out of being in prison are still with me now.”
They neared the limo waiting to drive them to the jailhouse. “What’s that?”
He stopped her and gazed into her eyes. “I have my family and now I have you.”
The twinkle in her eye dimmed for a moment. He almost missed it, and she shrugged like it was no big deal, passing him as the limo driver opened the door for them. “Let’s go, Mr. Romantic. I want us to be alone.”
Agreed. He wanted to spend time with her, end the threat, and then live their lives. Hopefully the delay was temporary because he had his life to lead, with Sarah at his side.
Sarah refused to leave Beau’s side as they were escorted from the palace, into town, and toward a jail. Beau was so tense she could see his muscles would probably break through twenty wooden slates like in one of those martial arts movie scenes.
They'd met in a Washington DC prison chapel where he'd changed her world for the better. If, in some strange twist of fate, she was able to save his life by giving hers in a dark jail cell in Hoskell, then so be it.
The entire journey she wondered if this was a set-up by Mariam--was that why Beau was so tense? Were they walking into a trap?
Until she’d lived with Beau, she’d never really lived. Sarah owed him and she always paid her debts. Even more to him as she possibly loved him.
He was the only family that mattered now.
They strode toward a large prison the size of a palace but made of dark stone with double doors huge enough to march elephants through. The heavy iron slowly opened and guards in black ushered them inside an anteroom.
Thick metal hooks protruded from black stone walls as they passed through the room. Did they hang people on those? Her hair stood on its ends. Hopefully not in modern times, but her mind could imagine a lot.
This was nothing like the prison in DC, which had been gray and dismal. The intimidating blackness of the bleak anteroom made her shiver. They didn't stay there, but were propelled toward a second room. As the doors opened, light spilled from a golden room, shining so brightly it might blind a prisoner brought from the previous dark chamber.
One of the guards called out, “His Royal Highness and Her Highness.”
She ignored how her heart raced and whispered to Beau, “Why are we being announced with titles?”
“They are showing their allegiance to the crown.” He gave her a quick shrug but stayed close. “Just nod your head.”
Right. That might be easier if she'd been born to this position. Her legs were shaky but she couldn’t, wouldn't, fall apart.
More guards came into the room with a huge table and chairs designed for conversation with an older frail woman who had long, thin gray hair and the same nose as Beau’s father, Ali. Sarah stood beside Beau as guards led the handcuffed woman in a blue prison uniform toward them into the plain all white modern room. “Is that your aunt?”
Beau’s grimace grew deeper now and his face was pinched as he said, “I guess so.”
This woman wouldn’t survive. She was rail-thin, with sunken brown eyes that seemed to convey being broken. S
arah’s hands fell to her sides. “She seems… older than I pictured.”
His shoulder accidently brushed hers for a second, but that caught her attentionwhen he kept his voice low so his aunt didn’t hear as he said, “We both imagined a harpy.”
“Yes. But her eyes and body just seem...broken and sad. And like your mother’s when she had cancer” Sarah's eyes misted for what she saw before her. Beau asked, “Mariam Barampour?”
The woman’s tears fell like rain in a storm as she said, “You look like my Arman. What he and Natasha did to you was so wrong. Please tell Ali… I’m sorry.”
Beau’s face was white as he briefly covered his lips with his fingers. “I never had the chance to meet your Arman.”
Mariam wiped the tears but her brown hues were still filled with pain. “He was generally a good boy as a child. I’m sorry he went after and hurt my brothers and their families. He was wrong and I’m sorry I couldn’t stop him. I’ll spend the rest of my life paying because I couldn’t stop Arman from Natasha.”
Sarah's heart was in her throat. She hadn’t expected an apology.
“Please sit.” Beau gestured to the chair across from them, clearly more held together than she was. “Are you saying you had nothing to do it with it?”
Revenge against this particular woman wouldn't be good at all. Broken like Ava, Beau’s mom, wasn’t how she expected this to go. Mariam slumped into a chair like she’d love to just disappear inside it.
Not if the end result meant that this woman was left to pay for Arman's crimes, when everyone else in the scheme was dead. This older figure didn’t seem like an enemy. She’d come here to protect Beau, from someone Lois and Eva both said was evil, but threats on a phone was all she knew.
And rudeness wasn’t a sin. Unlike Natasha and Arman, the woman in front of her seemed… wretched and broken and sad.
This wasn’t what she’d planned for.
Sarah and Beau sat opposite her.
Mariam glanced away and her voice cracked, “I did what my son asked me to do.”
Sarah hadn't intended to speak but said, “You threatened Loi, to make her spy on the Bentleys for you.”
Mariam’s shoulders slumped. “We never met in person and I thought calling her might somehow protect my son. But Natasha destroyed his soul…” Tears again filled Mariam's eyes. “And I failed to keep my son away from her. Now I’m here to serve my sentence”
Sarah let out a long sigh and hugged her waist. No one had ever shown her mercy in her life, but she wasn’t going to throw stones because she could.
Beau said, “Did you threaten Lois? Please answer the question.”
Mariam held her head higher and nodded. “Yes, I threatened her. My son was determined and set on his path before I knew what to do. And I thought if I helped him through a few phone calls, no one would be hurt.”
Perhaps this wasn’t her business. Perhaps she was a complete fool. Her own heart was usually her weakness, but she asked anyhow, “So, Arman was the leader?”
“My son is dead.” Mariam’s voice was laced with pain as she met Beau’s gaze and said, “And I never once did anything to my half-brothers. I’m devastated and tearing my soul out of my chest that my brother Bashir and his wife were murdered before I knew what had happened.”
Bashir was Jordan and Aaden’s father. She’d met the cousins who were now without parents because of her son.
But if she didn’t say something now, Mariam might stay in this prison and never see the sun again. She ignored the goosebumps that grew on her arms asked, “If you weren’t a part of it-”
“Don’t be foolish Sarah,” Beau interrupted, and gave her a side-eyed warning.
“Can we talk alone?”
He nodded and stood, offering his agreement.
The guards opened the doors for them and they were brought to a side room more designed for police to watch interrogations as they could see Mariam through the mirror tile glasses.
Once they were alone, her spine straightened and she said, “I’m usually great and protecting myself and others and my instincts were usually right on.”
“No. But you did the best you could,” Beau agreed with his usual calm.
Her impulse to argue wouldn’t help her here. And Beau was different from everyone else she knew. He was kind and patient and thoughtful. She ignored protocol and pressed her hand to his shoulder. When he looked at her fully, she said, “I think you should let her go.”
“And let her plot against us again?”
“Do you honestly believe that?” She met his gaze. “Even your father was surprised she was involved, as he'd cared for her.”
He paused and crossed his arms. She tensed like he’d argue, but instead he slowly said, “My father said forgiveness was the key to moving on with our lives.” He leaned against the stone wall as he stared at the floor.
For a moment she didn’t say a word. Then she let out a long breath and said, “I don’t think she’ll hurt your family anymore.”
“I don’t want to be foolish. Her regret could be a lie.”
“She reminds me a little of your mom and your dad.”
“Me too.” He said and took out his phone. “I’ll text my father for his opinion on maybe house arrest, but I agree.”
Good. They were on the same page. She straightened her spine and said, “Then let me go back in and talk to your aunt Mariam with the guards? I want a second conversation with her… to be sure.”
Beau motioned with his hands. “Go ahead.”
“Be fast though,” she insisted. “You can speak to your father and meet us.”
“Will you be okay?”
“Of course. You’re right outside the door.”
“Don’t do anything stupid.”
“I never do.” Well much she added for herself. If she was here to get the truth from Mariam and truly help the Bentleys she needed to be sure. If she was wrong, she needed to see it now.
The guards let her into the room just as Beau’s phone rang. It must be his father. She kept her head up, and returned to the room, retaking the seat she’d left. The guards locked them in and for a moment no one said a word.
Miriam sighed. “I… I don’t know how far this all went. I’m satisfied you both came today because I wanted you to give a message to Ali for me.”
“Which is?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to stop Arman or how far this all went.”
The message was simple. Why wasn’t Mariam asking to be released? But then Sarah wasn’t sure she’d know how to beg anyone for her freedom. And the pain in the woman’s every gesture was so clear that Sarah’s own bones seemed heavier too.
To Sarah, she’d suffered more from the death of her son than any prison might ever inflict.
The doors opened and Beau sat. Their legs brushed and warmth filled her. Beau wore a stoic expression when he looked at his aunt. “My father was disappointed when he heard it was you behind the scheme.”
Did that mean Mariam would stay in prison?
She wasn’t sure but she held her tongue.
She recalled Ali that day. Disappointed was a tame word. Sarah had seen a flash of shock.
Sarah’s own sister had tossed her out of her family like she’d been yesterday’s trash, but the Bentleys were different.
Mariam wiped her eyes as she said, “Natasha changed my son. I’m sorry for what happened to every one of you because of them. Please tell your father I’m… I would never intentionally hurt my family. Ali and Bashir picked out my first husband. I wished I’d have gone with them when I had the chance. Arman might have grown up with his family, not villainizing you.”
Beau slipped Sarah his phone with his father’s text that read free her if you believe her while he asked Mariam, “That’s why you called us here?”
Mariam rattled her handcuffs and seemed like she expected to be struck by the guards as she counted the corners of the room. “Yes. I’ve lost my son. Forever now, and my brother didn’t
deserve what happened to him.”
Beau added fast, “Or his wife.”
"Yes." Mariam’s voice cracked again. “And his wife. Please tell Ali I will pray for his family and I’m thankful my son didn’t hurt anyone else.”
Sarah wished that she could just walk Mariam out of this place. The huge doors needed multiple men to open. This wasn’t made for small women, but she turned her attention toward Mariam and asked her one burning question. “How can I trust you aren’t lying to us to gain our sympathy?”
“I’m prepared for life here.”
No. She’d not last long in prison, at all.
“Can I talk to you?” Sarah sat back.
Guards stood taller at the door like they readied themselves to open the massive doors. She held up her
Hopefully Beau would listen to her. She walked with him and whispered, “I believe her, Beau.”
“I know you do. I’m trying to make up my own mind.” He stayed close to her, crossed his arms and said, “She murdered my uncle and was part of the plan to arrest and murder my brothers.”
Sarah glanced over her shoulder. This wasn’t what she’d want to happen to her own family, never mind Mariam. While she'd never lost a son, she’d lost her own grandfather first, when she’d been six. She turned toward Beau, who was tall, strong and hopefully he had forgiveness in his heart too as she said, “She’s alone and without her son or family.” He didn’t say a word. She met his gaze, hoped the mist in her eyes didn’t blind her and shook her head, “Please Beau. Don’t let it end like this. This prison is medieval.”
This time he let out a long breath like he held the air tight and didn’t let him go. “What do you want me to do?”
“Believe her. Free her.” She wished she could take his hand in hers. Instead she just stood there with her hands out and hoped.
He lowered his head. “I don’t know if I can.”
“Don’t leave her, here?” she asked in a plea. Beau had a heart. He had to if he loved her as he said.
If he left a helpless woman, then they were both doomed. She was flawed and broken on the inside. There was no way he could truly love her if he was capable of… this.
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