‘Having fun!’ Layla shrugged. ‘The same sort of fun you and Trinity have always had.’
‘What sort of fun?’ Zahid demanded.
‘Expensive fun,’ Mikael said.
‘And you’ve paid for it for she had no money with her?’ Zahid’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Mikael. ‘Why would you do that?’
‘I had a retainer.’ Mikael opened the safe and displayed the ruby. ‘I’d prefer a wire transfer.’
The room was starting to calm down.
‘Can I see your expenses?’
Mikael buzzed Wendy and asked her to bring in the current bill for Layla.
‘Today hasn’t been added yet,’ Mikael said, and handed the paper to Zahid, who scrutinised it for a few moments. So too did Trinity, who frowned.
‘How can you spend more than five hundred dollars on apples?’ Trinity asked, but that was the least of Zahid’s concerns.
‘These friends of yours…?’ He turned to Mikael. ‘I wish to speak with them.’
‘I doubt that they wish to speak with you,’ Mikael responded coolly. ‘Layla says that you two are expecting a baby of your own. Remind me to dump a problem like Layla in your lap a couple of days after your baby is born.’
‘Zahid…’ Trinity was the voice of reason. ‘She’s safe—that’s all you need to know.’
Mikael watched as Zahid’s jaw gritted and knew that Layla’s brother was struggling to hold back tears of relief.
Layla was right: they loved her.
‘We will go,’ Zahid said, and glanced briefly over to Mikael. ‘Your account will be settled as soon as I return to Ishla. Or now, if you—’
‘When you return to Ishla is fine.’
‘Come,’ Zahid said to Layla. ‘We do not discuss our business in front of strangers.’
Mikael handed over the ruby and glanced at Layla, who looked defiant, angry, happy—a strange combination only she could manage.
She shot him a brief smile.
‘Thank you for your assistance, Mikael.’
‘You’re welcome.’
That was it.
The coolest goodbye ever.
She turned and simply dismissed him, and Mikael stood there as they all walked out and did not flinch. He kept his face impassive.
For her sake.
Only when she was gone did he pull out her note and stare at the pretty curves and dots. He had no idea what she’d written.
Whatever it meant, Mikael felt it too.
For the first time in his life he did not have a solution.
For the first time in his life Mikael cried.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LAYLA RETURNED INTACT.
A little swollen, the doctor commented as she examined her.
‘I know!’ Layla said. ‘There was no one there to bathe me! The hotel refused to send someone, and the baths are high there and not sunken. I slipped getting out. I am still very sore.’
She spoke with the same authority she always did and looked the doctor in the eye as she lied.
‘Does my father have to know about that?’
The doctor hesitated, for perhaps King Fahid should know. Yet she was a kind woman, and she had been the one who had delivered Layla the awful day that her mother had died, and she had also fabricated the story about a seizure just to help Layla.
‘Of course not.’
The King breathed out a long sigh of relief when it was reported that there was not a bruise nor a cut on his daughter’s skin and that it appeared no harm had come to her. He sent for her and Layla stood, resigned, staring above and over his shoulder as her father delivered a very stern lecture and demanded more details as to what had happened in her time in Australia.
‘You lied to me,’ Fahid said. ‘Even now you lie. What was the whole point of running away if all you were going to do was sit with people who have just had a baby? You don’t even like babies.’
Layla breathed out through her nostrils.
‘I want the truth, Layla,’ her father demanded. ‘Did you dance?’
‘Yes, I danced,’ she said.
‘And drink alcohol?’
‘Once.’ She’d admit to once. ‘I had an Irish coffee. I have wanted to try one since Zahid told me you could have whisky in coffee and the cream stays at the top.’
‘What else?’
Layla said nothing.
‘What else?’ the King demanded. ‘What else did you get up to?’
‘I tried to get a joint.’
‘A joint?’
‘Weed,’ Layla said. ‘The same stuff that was found in Zahid’s locker at school! I had always wanted to try it.’
‘And did you?’
‘No one would let me.’
‘What about men?’ the King demanded—for, like her mother, Layla had always dreamed of romance. ‘Did you do anything of which you are ashamed?’
‘No, Father.’
Her answer was the truth.
‘Layla?’
‘No, Father, I did nothing of which I am ashamed.’
‘I’m very disappointed in you, Layla.’
‘I know that you are.’
‘Are you disappointed in yourself?’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I am proud of myself and glad that I did it. I’ve had my rebellion. I am sorry that it had to hurt you.’
‘You are supposed to say yes, you are disappointed in yourself.’
‘But I’m not.’
‘You won’t be teaching,’ he said, and saw her lip tremble. ‘Who knows what you might suggest…?’
‘I would never encourage poor behaviour in my students,’ she said, ‘but I am an adult—’
‘Enough!’
The King went through her punishments.
‘No more teaching…’ He saw her chin jut. ‘No phone.’
‘I never had one in the first place.’
‘No letters.’
Layla was relieved. Otherwise poor Mikael might need to get a wheelbarrow for the thousands of letters in Arabic that might be delivered to him—letters he could never understand. Her heart squeezed as she thought of the small note she had left him and wondered if he would ever work it out.
Perhaps it was better to have their contact severed so brutally.
‘No internet—ever!’ Fahid continued.
‘What about chess?’
‘You can play chess with me,’ Fahid said. ‘And next week you will select a husband.’
Layla said nothing.
‘You don’t argue?’
‘I knew the consequences when I ran away,’ she said. ‘I knew what would happen when I got back.’
‘And was it worth it?’
It was the only time the King had glimpsed a flash of tears.
‘Yes.’
* * *
She was back, and plans had been made for Princess Layla to choose her husband tomorrow.
She was well, she was safe, she had returned.
The palace felt like a funeral parlour though.
The King looked out to the gardens below his study and saw Layla walking when usually she would have run.
She looked cold, even though the evening sun was still blazing before dipping below the horizon.
‘How has she been?’
He turned when Jamila entered; he had asked to speak with her.
‘She is very polite, she is doing everything that has been asked of her and she has given me no cheek—but she is very angry with me. I know that, even if she doesn’t say so.’ Jamila started to cry. ‘I am sorry for interfering…you might never have known.’
‘You were scared for her,’ Fahid said. ‘You were right to ca
ll me.’
He looked to the woman who had been like a mother to his child—Layla’s only parent when he had not been able to be one.
‘You were brave to go against Zahid and call me.’
He sat down, for he could not stand to look out of the window and see Layla so unhappy.
Fahid closed his eyes. He wanted this sorted. ‘I have not got long…’
‘Don’t say that, Your Highness.’
‘It is true, though. I just want to know she will be taken care of.’
He looked over, because again Jamila was crying.
‘Jamila…?’
‘I don’t want you to die, Fahid.’
She was no longer speaking with the King but with the man who had come to her at night a year after his wife had died.
The man who had made love to her as Layla slept in her crib beside the bed.
The man who still came to her at times, even now.
Times that must never be discussed, for she was a servant—that was all.
Yet the King and Layla felt like Jamila’s family, and she wanted more time with him—especially now.
‘Perhaps the treatments will give me more time,’ he said, and took his lover in his arms.
And if they did give him more time, Fahid thought, then perhaps he should use it wisely.
* * *
Fahid watched as Layla pushed her hashwet-al-ruz around her plate. It was her favourite—spicy rice with minced lamb and mint—and Jamila had told the kitchen to add extra roasted pistachios, which Layla loved.
Not tonight, though.
‘You are not hungry,’ the King observed.
‘Not really.’ Layla attempted a smile. ‘Do we have prawns here?’
‘Prawns?’ The King frowned. ‘You mean shrimp?’
Layla shrugged. She didn’t know.
‘We do, but I don’t like it,’ the King said, and waited for the smart answer that the old Layla would have given—something along the lines of, So you don’t like it and that means that I don’t get to try it? But instead she just carried on pushing her food around her plate.
‘We could play chess tonight,’ the King offered, but she shook her head.
‘May I be excused?’
‘Layla…’ the King started, but then he halted. ‘You may.’
‘Am I allowed to go for another walk?’
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Enjoy.’
* * *
Abadan laa tansynii.
Mikael had managed to work out what the first part of her note meant and it had been painstaking. He could ask someone to translate it, but he wanted to do it himself and finally he had managed a little of it.
Don’t ever forget me.
He never, ever could.
So much so that as Mikael read the brief for a new client he felt nauseous.
‘He needs to find someone else,’ Mikael said to Wendy.
He simply couldn’t do it any more; he’d assuaged his guilt over Igor and now he was going to use his power for good.
What had Layla done to him?
He just had to know that she was okay.
He took out his phone and stared at it for a long time. He was worried that his calling might make things worse for Layla, but the payment of his fees had gone in today so there was almost a valid reason to call. He would keep his voice brusque, Mikael decided. He would thank Zahid for the payment and check that she was okay.
He just had to do something.
* * *
Layla walked through the palace gardens and had never felt more confused—because she had done more than she could ever have dreamed of in her few days away and so surely she should be happy. As she walked she remembered dancing and laughing with Mikael, and she remembered his kindness too. How he had come back for her that night and stopped her going out. How he had bathed her and watched over her.
She had laughed when he had asked her to marry him and yet it was the nicest thing that had ever happened to her. What she wanted more than anything in the world was to be his wife.
Yet it was impossible. For even if somehow—impossibly—her father agreed, imagine Mikael here, in Ishla…
She could not.
Oh, at first it would be bliss. But without his cases, without the life he had built from nothing, that bliss would surely fade. Layla could not do that to him; she could not bear to think of him living here, with his opinions invalidated by the King and later by Zahid.
No palace would be big enough for such strong men.
A sob came and she could no longer hold it in.
Her father might be watching her from the window, Layla knew, and she fled down a hidden path towards the second palace, where Trinity and Zahid lived. But she did not run to them. Instead she sat on a stone bench and wept and sobbed as she never had in her life—not even when she had gone to choose her suitor. This evening Layla cried not just for herself but for Mikael, for he had no family and yet it felt as if he was a part of hers, and she would never see him again.
‘Layla!’
Trinity had been walking, and at first had thought an animal must be trapped, such was the distress she’d heard. Trinity put her arms around Layla’s heaving shoulders and tried to find out what was wrong, but Layla shook her head at everything Trinity asked.
‘Is your father still cross?’
Layla shook her head.
‘Are you scared of choosing a husband?’
‘No.’ Layla gulped.
There was no room in her heart left to be scared.
‘I fell in love.’ Her tears calmed just a touch with the terrible admission. ‘I always thought I wanted to fall in love but it is horrible…it is agony. Please, please, don’t tell Zahid.’
‘He might understand.’
‘Even if he could understand it would make no difference, Zahid is not yet King.’
‘Who?’ Trinity asked. ‘Who did you fall in love with?’
‘Mikael.’
Trinity blew out a breath. Perhaps Layla was suffering from a serious case of a crush, because if Mikael loved her in return surely he would not have let her leave?
‘I begged him not to let Zahid know there had been anything between us.’
‘He’s a brilliant actor, then,’ Trinity said, remembering Mikael’s bored expression.
‘He did it for me,’ Layla said. ‘No one ever knows what he’s thinking, yet he tells me how he feels.’
‘He feels the same about you?’ Trinity checked, and then double-checked again. ‘You’re sure that Mikael loves you?’
‘He asked to marry me.’
‘Mikael asked you that?’
‘Yes.’ Layla said. ‘And I laughed because it is so impossible. I love my family. I did not know how to say yes to what I want without hurting all the people I care for. He tried to tell me that he loved me and I would not let him, because those words only belong in marriage. But I want to hear those words now, and I want to tell him I love him too. I wish I had at least said that. If I could speak with him just one more time…’
‘Do you have his phone number?’
‘No, he gave it to me but I tore it up.’ Layla turned and managed a smile. ‘I don’t want his number—there would be too much temptation.’ The tears had stopped but the sadness was still there and very possibly would never leave. ‘I should get back to the palace.’
‘Stay and talk,’ Trinity said, but Layla shook her head.
‘I had better not take too long…’
All the fight had gone out of her, Trinity thought sadly as Layla headed back.
Trinity walked into the second palace and looked at her husband. His back was to her as he gazed out to the ocean and his shoulders were set rigid. Trinity wondered
if it would make things better or worse for Layla if she told Zahid.
She did not have to tell him, though—it would seem that he already knew.
‘I think something went on with Layla and her barrister.’ Still Zahid did not turn. ‘He has called to see how she is.’
‘Perhaps it was just a follow-up call,’ Trinity said, not sure how to tread here. She loved her husband so much, but some of the ways in Ishla she would never understand.
‘I don’t know if it was poor reception, but…’ Zahid could not explain, and neither did he want to acknowledge the sudden husk in Mikael’s voice near the end of his call. ‘He asked to speak with her.’
‘What did you say?’
‘That it would not be wise. That she was happy to be back with her family.’ Zahid turned then. ‘She’s not happy, though, is she?’
‘No.’
‘Has she spoken to you about what went on while she was away?’
‘A little,’ Trinity said. ‘Zahid, please don’t ask me to break her confidence.’
‘I shan’t.’ He looked at the wife he cherished, despite once fearing love. ‘Layla is very different to me,’ he explained. ‘She has always craved love. From the day she was born she screamed for it. She wanted to be held, to be cherished. Jamila did her best for her. I was seven when Layla was born, and I tried to be a comfort to her, but she wanted her mother. She wanted my father too, but she got neither…’
‘Is there anything you can do to help her?’ Trinity asked.
‘I have tried.’ Zahid sighed. ‘You remember I had already agreed to choose a bride when we met again in London?’
Trinity nodded.
‘The reason I had agreed to choose a bride was in order to postpone a wedding for Layla. I knew my father did not have much time. I wanted to change the rules for my sister.’
Zahid was conflicted too—angry with the man who had looked him in the eye as he’d lied to him.
‘Have you seen the scum that Romanov defends?’ Zahid sneered. ‘I have looked him up and his reputation with women is—’
‘I had a terrible reputation,’ Trinity broke in. ‘We both know that what people said about me was wrong.’ She took a breath as she saw her husband waver. ‘Layla herself says that they can never be together—she simply wants to speak with him one more time.’
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