by Leslie North
His father’s face had fallen when Skandar mentioned the promise his uncle was pressuring him to give. A chill had settled over the room like ten-year-old Skandar had never felt before, and that chill reached all the way through the center of the family, breaking it in two at the brothers.
I’m only trying to safeguard Skandar, his uncle had insisted during the single fight they’d had afterward—at least the only argument Skandar could remember. There will be people looking to use him, and if he should ascend to the throne while he’s young, God forbid, it would be better for me to take over, so that nefarious people don’t get under his skin.
“No.” Skandar spoke, and Nassif broke off mid-sentence. “Tell Gina what you’re doing with the site.”
“Creating beach life in the city?” Nassif blinked at him, his face the picture of innocence.
Gina’s eyes lit up. “It’s like urban parks. Designers began adding them to cities over two hundred years ago, and today they’re considered almost sacred spots by the people of those cities. Those parks and green areas mean so much to the community. Maybe the same could happen with lagoons. People wouldn’t have to travel to the ocean. They’d find it right on their doorstep.”
“If they can afford it,” Skandar said smoothly. Nassif opened his mouth, but Skandar cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Show her the plans to add white-sand beaches and boat docks. You want to create beach life in the city and surround it with luxury towers and hotels. Pack the buildings so tightly that you can fit in all the entertainment centers and amenities you want. A water park—wasn’t that the latest idea? A water park behind a tall gate, for people who can pay.”
Gina’s eyes skipped over Skandar and took in Zaki and Hamila, who stood a few steps behind, their expressions neutral. The two of them wouldn’t do anything to harm Skandar’s chances. They’d faded into the background. So Gina’s eyes came back to Skandar’s face.
“I thought it was for the city’s benefit. To bring new life for locals into a derelict area.” The cadence of her words slowed. She had to know that all was not well with his uncle. After all, if the man had had any good qualities, Skandar would have mentioned them by now.
“You’re talking about public access.” Nassif angled his body so that he was almost cutting Skandar out of the discussion. “Public access to the lagoon is more than possible. And why not have some housing available for the locals?” Nassif looked at the sky, stroking his chin and pretending to consider this. “Or a section of the lagoon available for the city? No one has presented any ideas like that to me.”
Liar. Anger burned up the inside of Skandar’s throat. Confusion stormed through Gina’s eyes. Why couldn’t she see that Nassif was telling her what she wanted to hear? Why, why, did his uncle’s charm work so easily on people?
“I think a day or residential camp for inner-city children could work here.” Her gaze returned to the shore of the lagoon, and Skandar could practically see the thoughts forming in her mind. A building here, a set of tents there...
“How rude of me,” Nassif tutted. “We exchanged names, but I didn’t formally introduce myself.” He swept up Gina’s hand in his and brushed his lips across her knuckles. Unadulterated anger spiked through Skandar’s veins, and he felt rather than saw Zaki take a step toward him. “I’m Nassif, Skandar’s uncle. Congratulations on your marriage, Gina. I’ve heard about you. And you’ve no doubt heard I would be drilling for oil on tribal land.” He laughed as if it were the most ridiculous joke he’d ever heard. “The rumors about me and my consortium are quite the stories.”
Gina laughed too, but her gaze caught Skandar’s with such a naked plea that he stepped in and took her hand right out of Nassif’s. “We should go.” He pulled Gina to his side. “This should be a happy day. Not a time to get into a discussion like this.”
“A happy family day,” Nassif echoed, his face settling into a frown.
Gina’s pulse thundered, drowning out the lap of water against the shores of the lagoon. The tension between the two men was like a lightning bolt about to crash down at their feet. Nassif’s face had fallen so convincingly, but Skandar’s hand was tight on hers and his face was a thundercloud. Zaki had stepped close, one hand poised as if to reach for his shoulder and talk him down. From what? They weren’t going to fight each other here at the lagoon, not with all the palace security closing in. They did it so casually, too. A step here, a step there—but the circle tightened with every minute that went by.
“We could talk later.” All the eyes in the smaller circle snapped to her face, and heat bloomed on her cheeks. “At the wedding dinner.” It would be awkward, for sure. Gina couldn’t quite picture this man mingling with the rest of their invited guests. She didn’t have to know the other guests to see that he would create a space around him, a silence. Gina could bridge it if she had the chance. Maybe.
Another squeeze on her hand. “That won’t be possible,” Nassif said. He bowed, the movement short and perfunctory, and walked away.
So he hadn’t been invited, then. A glance at Skandar’s face confirmed it. He watched the retreating figure of his uncle until he was out of sight, then seemed to shake himself out of it. “We should be going.”
“Yes, we should,” Zaki agreed quickly, holding out an arm for his wife. Skandar led them back to the archways, where people seemed more reticent, eyes nervous. They must all have known about the division between Skandar and his uncle. It was like standing in the middle of a bright spotlight, everything illuminated for people to gawk at. It was worse than standing in front of people and signing papers—far worse. People wouldn’t be looking for things to celebrate. They’d be looking for flaws, signs of an even greater rift. It must weigh so heavily on Skandar.
“Maybe it would be a good idea to talk to your uncle,” she suggested as they headed for the SUV, security in a tight formation around them now, close enough to touch. “A lot of this could be a misunderstanding. Maybe it’s true that nobody suggested better alternatives to Nassif.”
But Skandar kept his eyes moving, searching the street, until they got to the SUV and he opened the door for her. He didn’t say anything as he hustled her inside.
9
Skandar didn’t say anything else about his uncle or the meeting they’d had all the way back to the palace. Zaki took out a tablet as soon as they were in the SUV and started to run down a list of things they’d need to focus on after the celebration was over, and Gina stuck close to Skandar’s side as he listened and answered. The deep hum of his voice soothed her, even as the tension in his body made her heart speed up. This was, after all, the same man who had pulled her into the circle at those rites in order to avoid the appearance that someone had taken them off track. His own uncle trying to destabilize the succession process had to be a thousand times worse.
But he never let it show on his face, and soon they pulled up at the front entrance of the palace. Skandar leaned in close. “I normally use the private entrance in the back, but Zaki thought it might be nice to get some press photos.”
“Some happy, lighthearted press photos,” put in Hamila. “That means you, Skandar.”
“We’re back at the palace, friend,” shot back Skandar. “That means I’m the ascendant king, and you should stay in your place.”
There was a moment of silence, then Hamila burst out laughing. “He’s funny, isn’t he?” Her warm eyes caught Gina’s, and the fluttering in her pulse seemed to settle. So what if she was walking into a palace? A real, honest-to-god palace? She had friends around her, and they wouldn’t let her mess things up too badly.
They stepped out of the SUV, Skandar helping her with so much care and attention that Gina would have thought she was wearing glass slippers. She put her arm through his, and for the first time in her life she found herself thinking of what the pictures would look like. I’ll look up at him like this, she decided. I’ll gaze at him like he’s the only man in the world. But when she did it, the rest of the world faded out of focu
s. All she could see was Skandar, the proud cut of his jaw and the black gleam of his eyes. Gina wanted those eyes on her again more than she wanted anything.
But then it was time to climb the front steps of the palace. The wide, white building was made up of what looked like a hundred archways, all leading into a glowing center. Skandar bent down to kiss her. He tasted clean and new and expensive, and a thrill moved down her entire body. He tasted like this palace looked. Like something out of a fairy tale.
They went in one set of doors, then another, and entered a foyer that had a ceiling soaring higher than a cathedral, the entire thing lit by sconces, which poured warm light over them from the sides of the room, and chandeliers above. Dark floors gleamed under their feet, the wood polished until it shone. Even the air was scented with something that reminded her of Skandar—something spicy and almost dark. Artwork dotted alcoves along the walls, lights trained toward the paintings, and several of them contained statues with curves and lines that made something low in Gina’s belly clench.
“We’ll meet you at the dinner.” Zaki’s voice echoed off the ceiling, and Gina realized they’d fallen several steps behind. He and Hamila waved and stepped back into the shadows.
“Here,” said Skandar. They’d arrived at an elevator underneath an archway decorated in a geometric pattern with so many shades of blue tiles that it looked like the ocean. They took the elevator up several floors, and when the door opened, it revealed a long, wide hallway all in white. Five staff members were lined up outside an enormous set of double doors, and Gina did her best to nod and smile as Skandar greeted them. Two of the servants stepped forward to open the doors for them, and Gina had to stifle a gasp.
The king’s rooms were like the nicest apartment she’d ever been in, times a thousand. The walls were modern and clean, the same white as the hallway, but tapestries hung from the walls in bright bursts of color. A living area in the center featured two black sofas and enough huge cushions to sink into, all of it arranged in a precise order.
“The bedroom is this way,” Skandar pointed. “I also have a guest suite.”
Her cheeks heated. “We’re married now,” she said primly. “I’m supposed to stay with you.”
Skandar strode further into the suite, and a rush of relief crashed over her. Gina thrust her hands into the air, letting out a celebratory whoop. Skandar spun around, laughing, one eyebrow raised. “Did I miss something?”
“I made it all the way through the palace without embarrassing myself. Or you. I think.”
“You did.” He returned and took her in his arms, and desire threaded through all her nerves. How long did they have before—
The door flew open behind them, revealing Shahd, who had a garment bag thrown over one arm. Her dress was the color of the midnight sky, dotted over with sparkling jewels that shone like stars. What did Gina look like? They’d been touring the city and she’d dragged her robe through God knew what—
Servants came in behind Shahd, dragging fully laden clothing racks between them. Skandar’s sister looked them up and down. “I have a robe for the reception,” she announced. “And some other clothes from one of my favorite stores. You came with one suitcase,” she scolded. “You can’t wear your desert uniform for palace events.”
“It’s not really a uniform,” Gina answered. “More of a collection of on-sale khaki shorts and wicking T-shirts.”
A woman came in behind the clothes racks while Shahd lifted her eyes to the ceiling and mouthed a silent prayer. “Skandar, give us some space.”
He stepped back and made a funny little bow. “The guest suite is yours.”
Shahd and the woman hustled Gina back to the guest suite, which was roughly three times the size of every apartment Gina had ever lived in. “This is my maid, Ediz. She’s going to help us.”
Gina caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her reddish hair was windblown and had come loose from the bobby pins holding it in place from the morning’s ceremony. Where was her makeup? “Oh, thank goodness.”
Five minutes later, they had her in her new gown—a deep green that set off her hair—and had thrown a towel over it so she could sit on a chair in the bathroom while the two women moved around her with makeup palettes and combs. Shahd was focused on the makeup, but every so often, Gina caught something in her eyes.
“You look a little down,” she said finally, keeping her gaze on the ceiling while Shahd applied a fresh layer of mascara.
Shahd smiled, her lips pressed together. “Today made me think about weddings, and I know who Skandar’s going to pair me with. Blink.” Gina obeyed. Shahd scrunched up her lips. “I know it’s my duty...”
“Who is it?”
“This for highlighter?” Ediz held up two different palettes in the mirror.
“That one,” answered Shahd, pointing. “It’s Saud al-Abboushi, because his father is Bakir al-Abboushi, one of the country’s leading businessmen.”
“Who would you want to be paired with?”
Shahd swiped a brush across her cheeks. “Amjad,” she breathed.
“Ooh! Tell me about him.”
“He’s a waiter.” Shahd blushed deeply. “Amjad Salim. He’s the son of the owner of this café I like to go to. I’ll take you there sometime, and you can see for yourself—he’s funny and smart and nice. Just not—”
A knock at the door. “Princess Shahd? It’s time.”
“We’re almost finished. Look, Gina.”
She stepped aside so Gina could get a complete look at herself. “Wow.” Somehow, she and Ediz had worked a fifteen-minute miracle. She looked fresh and dewy, her green eyes glowing. They’d swept her hair back into an elegant knot. “I feel like I can stand next to him at the dinner.”
Shahd patted her on the shoulder. “You’re gorgeous. And you could stand next to him with no makeup at all.”
The two women escorted her down to a ballroom on the first floor. Stepping into the ballroom was like stepping into another world—it had all been decorated in reds and whites and yellows, an explosion of desert colors with a huge table in the center covered in spotless white tablecloths. The biggest flower arrangements she’d ever seen decorated the center of the table. If she focused on the flowers, she could almost believe she was at an oasis.
The moment they walked in, Skandar was there. He stepped out in front of her and shook hands and bowed and laughed at people’s jokes, one by one. Someone handed her a drink—bubbly, light-colored, tasting of fruit—and they held those glasses for a toast she only half-understood. Waiters uniformed in dark robes danced between the guests, light on their feet. Gina tried to keep her face neutral. She could not lose her mind over the gold-edged china and the way everything glittered and shone.
“Yes, pregnant,” she heard him say. “We’re very excited.” Gina wanted to take a step back so she was behind him, but she stood her ground. He ran a comforting hand over her arm. Yes, yes, yes.
“Congratulations.” The next voice was loud, the face bright and intense. “It’s my turn to meet the bride. You both look stunning. How did you catch this one, Skandar?” The man grinned, his expression too intense.
“I was in the right place at the right time.” Skandar gestured at her. “My wife, Gina.”
“Lovely to meet you,” the man boomed, almost drowning out Skandar’s introduction. Bakir al-Abboushi’s voice carried well, and as he spoke, heads turned toward him. “You should have seen these cars, Sheikh Skandar.” He launched into a story about something that had happened in the city, switching into his native tongue so quickly that Gina would have lost the plot if not for his hands flying in the air. More and more people came close to listen to his story. A waiter edged by, a tray balanced high on one palm, and at that moment Bakir threw his hands in the air, mimicking an explosion.
The tray went flying, a gasp rising from the ring of people around them, and the waiter dropped to his knees, scooping the small appetizers back onto the silver surface. Gina reached down, a hand
on his shoulder. “Are you all right?”
The man looked up at her, red-faced and apologetic. “There wasn’t much left.”
The room seemed to be holding its breath around her. One of the chocolates from the tray had broken its fall on Gina’s dress, and the waiter snapped it up with a napkin. Her pulse thrummed in her ears. Me. They’re waiting for me.
“Let’s bring out some food to put on the center tables.” Gina powered past a shake in her voice. “Then Mr. al-Abboushi can finish his story, and everyone can help themselves, buffet-style.”
A murmur of agreement broke over her like a wave, and Bakir let out a sigh of relief and went right back to his story. Skandar’s hand on her back felt like a prize. She stole a glance at him and saw his approval in the curve of his lips.
“A surprise,” he said the next moment Bakir stopped talking. “My sister says there’s something we need to see.”
Shahd appeared at Gina’s elbow and turned the couple toward a screen that had been set up at the edge of the room. Its black square flickered, and then three people appeared on the screen. Gina sucked in a breath.
“Tali!” she cried.
Everyone’s head swiveled toward them, and Skandar let out a shocked laugh. “You know my cousin’s new wife?”
On the screen, Tali waved. “Hi, Gina. Congratulations on the wedding.” She was seated between Hamid al-Qasha and Raed al-Qasha, from the neighboring kingdom of Qasha.
“We’ve never met in person.” Gina was breathless, overwhelmed with excitement. “We...met online.”