‘I’ll say goodbye now!’ Amy spoke to the girls, for they were getting increasingly fretful and so too was she. She must remember that they were not her babies, that they would be fine with Fatima, that they were not hers to love. But it killed her to turn around and walk up the grand staircase. It was almost impossible not to look around and respond to their tears, but she did her level best—freezing on the spot when she heard Patel’s voice.
‘The King wishes to speak with you.’
‘Me?’ Slowly Amy turned around.
‘Now,’ Patel informed her. ‘He is busy—do not keep him waiting.’
It felt like the longest walk of her life. Amy could feel eyes on her as she walked back down the stairs, trying to quieten her mind, trying not to pre-empt what Emir wanted though her heart surely knew. She had never been summoned to speak to him before, and could only conclude that his thoughts were the same as hers—while he was gone, perhaps it was better that she leave.
It was terribly awkward to face him. Not since their night together had it been just them, for Fatima was always around, her silent criticism following Amy’s every move. There was no discomfort in Emir, she noted. He looked as uninterested and as imposing as he had the last time that she had stood there, and his voice was flat.
‘You are to accompany the children to the naming ceremony of the new Prince of Alzirz.’
‘Me?’ Amy swallowed. This was so not what she had been expecting. ‘But I thought it was considered more suitable for Fatima to travel with them? She is more well-versed—’
‘This is not a discussion,’ Emir interrupted. ‘You are to go now and to pack quickly. The helicopter is waiting and I have no intention of arriving late.’
‘But—’ She didn’t understand the change of plan. She needed this time alone and was nervous about travelling with him.
‘That will be all,’ Emir broke in. ‘As I said, I did not call you in here for a discussion.’
It was Patel who offered a brief explanation as she left the office. ‘Queen Natasha wishes to discuss English nannies and has said she is looking forward to speaking with you.’
This made sense, because of course a request from Queen Natasha during the new Prince’s naming ceremony must be accommodated.
It mattered not that it would break her heart.
Amy packed quickly. She selected three pale blue robes and her nightwear, and threw a few toiletries into her bag. Even if there was the helicopter, the King and his entourage waiting, still she took a moment to pack the twins’ swimming costumes and her own bikini—because, unlike Fatima, she would swim with the girls.
Emir was at the helicopter, and she felt his air of impatience as she stepped in. He had already strapped in the girls and Fatima gave Amy a long, cool look as she left the aircraft, for it was an honour indeed to travel with the King.
It was not the easiest of journeys, though Emir did hold Nakia as they neared their destination. Again Amy watched his features harden and, looking out of the window, thought perhaps she understood why. Alzirz was celebrating as Alzan should have been on the day of the twins’ birthday. The streets around the palace were lined with excited people waving flags. They all watched in excitement as dignitaries arrived for the naming of their new Prince.
How it must kill him to be so polite, Amy mused as they arrived at the palace and the two men kissed on both cheeks. She could feel the simmering hatred between them that went back generations.
Queen Natasha didn’t seem to notice it. She was incredibly informal and greeted both Amy and the twins as if they were visiting relatives, rather than a nanny and two young princesses. ‘They’ve grown!’ she said.
She looked amazing, Amy noted, wearing a loose fitting white robe embroidered with flowers. She certainly didn’t look like a woman who had given birth just a few days ago, and Amy felt drab beside her.
‘Come through!’ Natasha offered, seeing the twins were more than a little overawed by the large formal gathering. ‘I’ll take you to the nursery. I have to get the baby ready.’ She chatted easily as they walked through the palace. ‘I’ll introduce you to my nanny, Kuma. She’s just delightful, but I really want him to learn English.’ She smiled over to Amy. ‘You’re not looking for a job, by any chance?’ she asked shamelessly.
‘I’m very happy where I am,’ came Amy’s appropriate response, though she was tempted to joke that Natasha might find her on the palace doorstep in a couple of days. But, no, Amy realised, even if Natasha was nice, even if she was easy to talk to, in Alzirz as in Alzan the Royal Nanny would have to be obedient to royal command. She could never put her heart through this again.
Kuma really was delightful. She was far more effusive and loving than Fatima. She smiled widely when she saw the twins, put a finger up to her lips to tell them to hush, and then beckoned them over to admire the new prince. Nakia wasn’t particularly interested, but Clemira clapped her hands in delight and nearly jumped out of Amy’s arms in an effort to get to the baby. She was clearly totally infatuated with the young Prince.
‘He’s beautiful,’ Amy said. His skin was as dark as Rakhal’s, but his hair was blonde like Natasha’s, and Amy was suddenly filled with hopeless wonder as to what her babies might have been like if Emir was their father. She was consumed again with all she had lost, but then she held Clemira tighter and qualified that—all that she was losing by walking away.
‘Would you like to hold him?’ Natasha offered.
‘He’s asleep,’ Amy said, because she was terrified if she did that she might break down.
‘He has to get up, I’m afraid,’ Natasha said. ‘I want to feed him before the naming ceremony.’ She scooped the sleeping infant out of his crib and, as Kuma took Clemira, handed him to Amy.
Sometimes it had hurt to hold Clemira and Nakia in those early days, to know that she would never hold her own newborn, and the pain was back now, as acute as it had been then, perhaps more so—especially when the two Kings came in. Rakhal was proud and smiling down at his son. Emir was polite as he admired the new Prince. But there was grief in his eyes and Amy could see it. She was angry on behalf of his girls, yet she understood it too—for the laws in this land, like in the desert, could be cruel.
‘Come,’ Emir told her, ‘we should take our places.’
Her place was beside him—for the last time.
She stood where in the future she would not: holding his daughters. She held Clemira and sometimes swapped. Sometimes he held both, when he did not have to salute, so he could give Amy a rest and once, when they girls got restless, she set them on the ground, for it was a long and complicated ceremony.
‘They did well,’ Emir said as they walked back to the nursery with the weary twins.
‘Of course they did!’ Amy smiled. ‘And if they’d cried would it really have mattered? Tariq screamed the whole ceremony.’
‘He did.’ Emir had been thinking the same, knew he must not be so rigid. Except his country expected so little from his daughters and somehow he wanted to show them all they could be. ‘Just so you know, the Alzirz nanny will be looking after the twins tonight. They are to make a brief appearance at the party, but she will dress them and take care of that.’
‘Why?’ Amy asked, and she watched his lips tighten as she questioned him.
‘Because.’ Emir answered, and he almost hissed in irritation as he felt her blue eyes still questioning him. He refused to admit that he did not know why.
‘Because what?’
He wanted to turn around and tell her that he was new to this, that the intricacies of parenthood and royal protocol confused him at times too. Hannah would have been the one handling such things. It was on days like today that the duty of being a single parent was the hardest. Yet he could not say all this, so his voice was brusque when he conceded to respond. ‘Sheikha Queen Natasha wants them to be close. It is how things are done. If Prince Tariq comes to stay in Alzan you will look after him for the night.’
‘I thought y
ou were rivals?’
‘Of course,’ Emir said. ‘But Queen Natasha is new to this. She does not understand how deep the rivalry is, that though we speak and laugh and attend each other’s celebrations there is no affection there.’
‘None?’
‘None.’ His face was dark. ‘The twins will be looked after by their nanny tonight. They will be brought back to you in the morning and you will all join me at the formal breakfast tomorrow.’
‘But the girls will be unsettled in a new …’
He looked at her. He must have been mad to even have considered it—crazy even to think it. For she would not make a good sheikha queen. There was not one sentence he uttered that went unquestioned, not a thought in her head that she did not voice.
‘You keep requesting a night off. Why then, do you complain when you get one?’
Amy reminded herself of her place.
‘I’m not complaining.’ She gave him a wide smile. ‘I’m delighted to have a night off work. I just wasn’t expecting it.’
‘You can ring down for dinner to be sent to you.’
‘Room service?’ Amy kept that smile, remembered her place. ‘And I’ve got my own pool … Enjoy the party.’
Of course he did not.
He was less than happy as he took his place at the gathering. He could see the changes Natasha had brought to the rather staid palace, heard laughter in the air and the hum of pleasant, relaxed conversation, and it only served to make him more tense. He held his daughters along with Kuma, and Natasha held her son. He saw Kuma being so good with them and thought perhaps Fatima was not so suitable.
Maybe a gentler nanny would suit the children best, Emir thought. For he knew that Amy was leaving—had seen it in her eyes—and he held Clemira just a touch tighter before he handed her back to Kuma. His heart twisted again, for they should not be in this world without their mother, and a king should not be worrying about hiring a new nanny.
There was the one big decision that weighed heavily, but there were others that must be made too: their nanny, their schooling, their language, their tears, their grief, their future. He must fathom it all unshared with another who loved them. As a single father he did not know how to be.
Black was his mind as the babies were taken upstairs to the nursery, and he looked over to Rakhal, who stood with his wife by his side. Never had he felt more alone. Tonight he grieved the loss of both Hannah and Amy, and he was so distracted that he did not notice Natasha had made her way over.
‘I’m sorry. This must be so difficult for you.’
He shot her a look of scorn. How dared she suggest to his face such a thing? How dared she so blatantly disrespect his girls?
But just as his mouth formed a scathing retort she continued. ‘It’s Hannah’s anniversary soon?’
He closed his eyes for a second. Grief consumed him.
He nodded. ‘She is missed.’
Natasha looked at this King with grief in his eyes, who stood apart and polite but alone. ‘Where’s Amy?’
‘She is enjoying a night off,’ he clipped, for he did not like to think about her when he wanted her here at his side.
‘I didn’t mean for her to stay in her room.’ Natasha laughed. ‘When I said that my nanny would look after the girls I was hoping that she would join us.’
‘She is the nanny,’ Emir said curtly. ‘She is here only to look after the children.’
‘Ah, but she’s English,’ Natasha sighed and rolled her eyes. ‘Have you any idea how nice it feels to have someone here who is from home? I was so looking forward to speaking with her—we never really got a chance earlier.’
‘She will bring the twins to breakfast tomorrow,’ Emir responded, uncomfortable with such overt friendliness.
When he visited Alzirz, or when duty dictated that Rakhal visit Alzan, there were firm boundaries in place, certain ways things were done, but Natasha seemed completely oblivious to them. The new Sheikha Queen did not seem to understand that it was all an act between himself and Rakhal, that there was still a deep rivalry between the two Kings, born from an innate need to protect the kingdoms, their land and their people. Natasha simply didn’t understand that although they spoke politely, although they attended all necessary functions, it was only mutual hate that truly united them.
‘I’ll have somebody sent to get her,’ Natasha persisted.
Emir could only imagine how well that would go down with Amy. She didn’t like to be told what to do at the best of times, and this certainly wasn’t the best of times.
‘She is staff,’ Emir said, and that should have ended the conversation—especially as Rakhal had now come over. At least Rakhal knew how things were done. He would terminate this conversation in an instant, would quickly realise that lines were being crossed—unlike this beaming Englishwoman.
What was it with them?
Natasha smiled up to her husband. ‘I was just saying to Emir that I was hoping to have Amy join us tonight. I do miss having someone from home to chat to at times.’
And love must have softened Rakhal’s brain, Emir thought darkly, for instead of looking to Emir, instead of gauging his response, instead of playing by the unspoken rules he looked to his wife.
‘Then why don’t you have someone go to the suite and see if she would care to join us?’ he said. Only then did he address Emir. ‘Normally Natasha’s brother and his fiancée would be here tonight, to join in the celebrations, but they are in the UK for another family commitment and couldn’t make it.’
Emir did not care. Emir had no desire to know why Natasha’s brother and his fiancée could not be here. Had Rakhal forgotten for a moment that this was all a charade? That there was more hate in the air than the palatial ballroom could readily hold? For when he thought of his daughters, thought of his late wife and the rule Alzirz refused to revoke, Emir could happily pull his knife.
‘It would be unfair to her.’ Emir did his best to keep his voice even. ‘She will have only her working clothes with her.’
‘I’m not that mean.’ Natasha smiled. ‘I wouldn’t do that to her. I’ll have some clothes and maidens sent to her room to help prepare her. I’ll arrange it now.’
There was so much he would like to say—Emir was not used to having any decision questioned—and yet protocol dictated politeness even in this most uncomfortable of situations. He could just imagine Amy, in her present mood, if one of the servants were to knock at her door and insist that she come down and join in with the feasting and celebrations. A smile he was not expecting almost spread his lips at the very thought, but he rescued his features from expression and nodded to the waiting Queen.
‘Very well, if you wish to have Amy here, I shall go now and speak to her. I will ask her to come down, though she may already have retired for the night.’
Natasha smiled back at him and Emir could not understand why she could not see the hate in his eyes as he spoke. He strode out of the grand ballroom.
As he did so Rakhal turned to his wife. ‘You are meddling.’
‘Of course I’m not,’ Natasha lied.
But her husband knew her too well. He had had the teachings too and his wife seduced with her beauty, dazzled like the sun low in the desert. He knew his wife was plotting now.
‘Natasha? You do not interfere in such things.’
‘I’m not,’ Natasha insisted. ‘You have to work the room and I would like someone to talk to in my own language. Amy seems nice.’
But of course she was meddling. Natasha had seen King Emir’s eyes linger a little too long on Amy at times, when the nanny hadn’t been aware he was watching her. She had seen the sadness behind his eyes too. And, yes, perhaps it was for selfish reasons also that she was interfering just a little, but the thought of someone from her own land to be beside her at these endless functions …
She knew that Emir must soon take a new sheikha queen, and if that queen happened to be Amy—well, who could blame her for giving Cupid a little nudge? She loved her
new country—loved it so much—but the rivalry between the two nations, the bitterness between them and all the impossible rules she simply could not abide, and she was quite sure that Amy must feel the same.
Amy had not retired for the night as Emir was silently hoping as he walked through the palace to her room.
She had rung down for dinner and enjoyed a delicious feast—or tried to. She had been thinking about the girls, thinking about Emir and trying to picture her future without them. But it was too hard. So she had telephoned home, hoping for a long chat, but everybody must be at work because she had spoken to endless answering machines. And, yes, a night off was what she had asked for, and the Alzirz palace was as sumptuous as even the most luxurious hotel, but after an hour or two of reading and painting her toenails she had grown restless. Simply because it was there for the taking Amy put on her bikini and went for a long swim in her own private pool.
It was glorious—the temperature of the water perfect, the area shaded with date palms for complete privacy and protection from the fierce Alzirz sun during the day. Lying on her back, she could see the stars peeking through. But just as she started to relax, just as she had convinced herself to stop worrying about leaving Alzan, at least for tonight, she heard a bell ring from her suite.
Perhaps the maid had come to take her tray, Amy thought and, climbing out of the pool, went to answer the door. She had left her towel behind so she tied on a flimsy silk robe and called for the maid to come in. As the bell rang again Amy realised that perhaps she didn’t understand English and opened the door—completely taken aback to find Emir standing there.
‘It was not my intention to disturb you.’ It was close to an apology, but not quite. He was a king summoning a servant, Emir reminded himself—it was a compliment in itself that he had come to her door. ‘You are required downstairs.’
Amy frowned. ‘Is there a problem with one of the twins?’
‘Not at all.’ He felt more than a little uncomfortable, especially as two damp triangles were becoming visible where her wet bikini seeped into the silk of her gown. ‘Sheikha Queen Natasha has requested that you join in the celebrations.’
Beholden to the Throne Page 8