When he saw hope bloom in her eyes, it made it everything harder.
“You think you know who he is, or you actually know him?”
He’d been unable to help himself last night, and he couldn’t today—if she cried, he’d do whatever he could to stop her.
“He looked familiar when I first saw the photo, but I couldn’t place him. The more we talked, the more convinced I became that I knew him, but I still couldn’t remember from where.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to get your hopes up. What if I couldn’t ever remember? There was also the small matter of our project. I selfishly didn’t want to distract you. We were making good progress.”
“Who is he? Is he a bad person? Is that why you look so worried?”
“He’s one of the younger brothers of the royal family of Tabda Aljann.” Even saying the country’s name made him want to grit his teeth. The rivalry was fairly petty, he had no real grudge against them other than disliking the knowledge that their king, Ahmad, had once wanted his mother—more than thirty years go. If he could’ve picked another family for Nira, he would have.
“He’s a prince?”
Dakan reached for her other hand—she looked like she needed the support. “Yes.” The closer he got to telling her everything he knew, the more he needed to touch her. As soon as the words were said—as soon as they themselves left the penthouse—she’d be completely untouchable to him.
“Seems like you can’t swing a stick without hitting a prince around here. I want to meet him. What’s his name?”
“His name is Jibril.” That was at least easy to answer. The rest... “I don’t know if you should meet him. You might not even want to. There’s some things you should know first.”
Some of the hope dimmed, and she turned her hands over so that she could curl her fingers around his in return, and nodded for him to continue.
“He’s married, for one.”
“Of course he is. It’s been a long time. I wouldn’t expect him to stay single all this time just because Mum did.”
“No, habibi. He’s long married.”
“It’s been a long time since they were together.”
“His eldest son is the same age as Zahir.”
He watched her slowly start putting it together. “Has he been married more than once?”
“No.”
“So he was married when he was with my mother.”
He nodded.
“He cheated on his wife with my mother?”
Dakan nodded again.
“Then he sent her away.”
“I don’t know the whole story, but that’s my suspicion. I haven’t spoken to him. I’m not even certain how someone could diplomatically broach the subject with him.”
“Maybe they found out she was pregnant, and he sent her away to protect her. To protect us,” Nira said, though the look in her eye confirmed her words as a last desperate attempt to try and salvage something of the situation.
“Maybe.” He said the word she wanted to hear, but from what he knew of Prince Jibril, Dakan doubted his intention had been so noble. And he knew for damned sure that his father’s intentions were at least slightly skewed by her lineage. If she were an unacknowledged daughter from any other country, he wouldn’t force her to move to the palace.
Nira fell silent as she worked through everything, but the look in her eyes made her seem lost, and in that moment all he wanted was to shove his father out the door—and do whatever else might give her the peace the past twenty-four hours had stolen.
But he couldn’t do that.
“There’s more...”
“I don’t know if I want to hear more right now.”
“I don’t want to say it either,” he admitted, releasing her hand to wrap his arm around her, and grudgingly added, “but I’m under royal order to do so.”
She didn’t say anything else, but both hands went to her face to scrub over her cheeks and eyes.
Get it all out. This piecing out business made it longer, and longer was worse.
“I figured out who he was when I was speaking to my mother. She was telling me about her trip, countries they’d visited, and when she mentioned Tabda Aljann, his name just sort of appeared in my mind. I remembered where we’d met and talking to him. My mother noticed me falter, that’s why you can’t stay here now.”
“I still don’t understand why the King wants me at the palace. I don’t want to live there, I’ll be a basket case twenty-four seven. You’ve seen how it hits me... Besides, my equipment is here. We can’t go wheeling that monstrous plotter into the palace, it’d probably scuff something up.”
“I don’t want you there either, though I’m sure you can get used to being in the presence of your architectural family.” He jostled her shoulders, then remembered she was still hurt when she winced. “Forgive me. I don’t know how I forgot to be gentle with you today.”
“It’s okay. But I’m staying here. I need to work now before I lose track of the new ideas. Like a place for physical therapy in the future, which would be the perfect place for the therapeutic baths if that water composition can be manufactured. I’m ready to get back to work now.”
“You don’t have a choice, and you need to rest for a few days anyway.”
She stood up suddenly and was back out the door, leaving Dakan to scramble after her.
“Nira...”
“Why do you want me there?” Nira asked as soon as his father came into view. “You don’t even know me.”
“You’re a royal daughter of House Al-Haaken, even if you are unacknowledged. I won’t have you living alone here in the capital. It’s impossible.”
Nira wasn’t as hesitant to speak candidly to his father as Dakan was.
“I’m not going.” She stepped back further, and it was then that he saw tears in her eyes.
“You’re in Mamlakat Almas, I have ordered your relocation.” His father’s voice rose then and Dakan stepped between them, as if that could block the loudness of what would follow. “You cannot remain in a country and disobey her king. If you leave now, your contract will be voided and you’ll never be allowed back within the borders of Mamlakat Almas.”
“Father, I can handle this.” Dakan shook his head, staring hard at his father. Dakan understood what this meant to Nira, and what it probably meant for her future.
She reached up and pushed her hair back from her face as if it were some spider web she’d just walked through, then stepped fully behind him. He felt her forehead impact the center of his bare back and her hands grip his sides.
“You should’ve told her earlier in the week, not put it off so you could bring her home and fornicate with her.”
“I know! And that’s not why I brought her home—that just happened. I was being selfish again, because that’s what I do, right? Zahir’s the generous one, and I’m his shadow. But the time I spend with Nira here is the only time I enjoy spending in the country. I knew as soon as I said these words all that would change.”
He saw the spark of interest flare in his father’s eyes and before he could say anything else, Dakan gave his head a sharp shake.
When the look stopped him saying anything marriage-related, Dakan turned to Nira and pulled her to him. “You’ll be allowed to come during the day and work here. You’re not going to be a prisoner, habibi. You’re going to be an Al Rahal ward. So you’ll have that tour of the palace finally, and you can look at as many domes as you want to for as long as you want to.”
There was more, but he didn’t think she could take any more right now.
He didn’t have the heart to say it now anyway. He just hugged her and let himself smell her hair one last time, and then nodded to Tahira to take her to dress.
Wit
hout another word to his father, Dakan packed up Nira’s laptop, sketchbook and pencils, and then went to change his clothes.
CHAPTER TWELVE
NIRA COULDN’T DECIDE whether to feel some kind of pride at the revelation of her birth, or terrified that people were now making decisions about where she could live and what she could do.
But in keeping with her desire not to get exiled from the country for disobeying the King, she rode along in the back of his car with the two Al Rahal men in a silence so heavy it could’ve made bricks and built the Hagia Sophia!
How different it felt from her first journey to Qasr Almas. She couldn’t help but look at Dakan, and she knew he felt her gaze. The muscle at the corner of his ridiculously square jaw bunched harder when she looked at him for any length of time.
Just when she thought she might scream just to break the silence, they pulled onto the winding road that led to Qasr Almas, and she watched the Diamond Palace come into view.
This could be a massive mistake. The King had threatened to cancel her contract if she ran screaming for the airport now, but maybe that was the price of her freedom. She could find another job once she got home, probably. Though who knew the range of an angry king? She’d been hoping for positive references once this job was done, not for her client to send something scathing to her employer to follow her around until the only architecture job she could get would be designing garden sheds.
If she was honest, despite what Dakan had told her about her father, these people were the only ones willing to give her information. Maybe Mum would... Oh, hell. She’d have to tell her mum where she was living, if nothing else.
The car rolled to a stop, men opened the doors and the King exited on the side of the entrance. She and Dakan left via the opposite door, and he finally looked at her again as he extended a hand to help her from the car.
How many times had their hands linked in the past weeks? Even before last night, touching his hand had felt like an intimacy she’d never shared with someone else. Even before she’d known she loved him. But now he squeezed her hand, and the sorrow she saw in his eyes almost broke her down.
Carefully, he guided her hand to the crook of his elbow so material separated their skin and escorted her through the door.
A beautiful woman in flowing robes and glittering jewels came out of the palace, her arms open. The Queen she instantly recognized—Dakan had her eyes. She spoke Arabic to Nira straight away, and pulled her into a painful hug.
The Queen either didn’t know about them, or she was very good at putting on a friendly face.
Either way, Nira wasn’t going to bring it up. She returned the hug, then fumbled her way through the social gestures she’d have made with the royals of her own country—curtseying, inclining her head, pretending all was well and that nothing ugly lurked between the three.
“I shall show you to your suite personally. The healer is waiting for us there. Dakan said you had a building fall on you yesterday! I must say you look decidedly better than I feared you would. But you are stiff and sore, the healer will help.” She gestured for Nira’s bags to be brought. “I expect you and I will spend the next week in the healing baths.”
“All day?” Nira asked. She hadn’t subscribed to Dakan’s idea that she needed time off—she was just playing along. “I need to work on the hospital.” She glanced back, but Dakan was nowhere to be seen.
“Yes, Dakan said you are doing wonderful work. They’re already building the suite for our Adele’s coming birth, so you can have some time to recover. He said you saved a baby boy, landed with him on you to cushion him from the fall? Then held up a roof by yourself?”
Nira climbed the stairs as bidden, doing her level best not to look at anything but the next step. Getting distracted by the walls would be bad, or the carved balustrade running along her peripheral vision. She did break down and take hold of the rail about halfway up, slowing her pace somewhat and lengthening the likelihood that she might get overly emotional about the carvings and pillars dancing up the walls.
“I didn’t so much plan the fall as that’s how it happened. And it wasn’t a roof, it was part of the floor. I really did very little. Dakan saved us. He got everyone out.”
At the top of the stairs they turned down a short corridor, and she was shown into a suite that for the moment made her forget her pain and worry. There was no way to keep from looking. The bed was a platform built into the wall with a thick pillow-like mattress on top. There was a window with an arched top and deeply carved seat jutting from beneath where one could sit and gaze out at the sea...
What were they talking about? Work. She was talking about work. “I don’t want to take time off.” Right. Pay attention to the room later. Don’t look right now.
She made herself focus on the Queen. “The tour gave me so many ideas, I don’t want to forget anything.”
Say something nice about the palace. “But if there was anywhere I needed to lie about and not do work, this would be the room for me. I don’t suppose there exists any documentation about when the palace was constructed? Their methods or, well, anything that happened during its building?”
“There are scrolls. Your Arabic is very good, you should be able to read them.”
As the bags had been dropped off, the healer motioned for the door to be closed and then he and a maid who introduced herself as Samina began to remove her clothing. Despite quiet protests, she was stripped down to her bra and knickers, and the healer began a careful inspection of her bruises.
“Dakan said nothing’s broken. He made films of my arm. No internal injuries.”
The man nodded. “But you are not well. Your muscle has been damaged, and you have need of soothing. It is right that you shouldn’t work for a week, and you must take the healing baths daily. Wear no restrictive clothing. Will she be in robes, my Queen?” He directed the last question to Leila.
“Yes, there are many, and Adele’s should fit her well enough. Their coloring is different, but they will serve until new ones arrive.”
“New robes?” Nira asked, trying to keep up with the rapid Arabic. Hers was improving all the time, but she still could get very lost when overwhelmed. “May I sit?”
She had no idea what was expected of her, but standing there in bra and panties didn’t help her keep focused on the words flying around.
The healer gave another order for the restrictive clothing to be removed, and gave instructions on tonics the attar would send and how to properly take them.
“Let Samina dress you and then you shall rest today. This afternoon, after the sun weakens, we shall go to the healing baths. Oh, Nira, I’m so glad you’ve come to stay with us. Dakan says you will want tutoring, and spoke of how much you loved the trip to the Immortal Fortress. I’m sure you’ll find scrolls and books in our library to satisfy your every question. Perhaps we can visit a mosque when you’re rested, or some of the other ancient buildings in the city.”
Had Dakan already handed her off to his mother in that regard as well? Technically it would fulfill his promise to make sure she got the chance to explore when the project allowed, but before it had always sounded like something he’d participate in.
Samina led her to bed and she dutifully climbed in. She was tired. Maybe she could take some time to pursue her own goals finally. If Dakan came to yell at her to get back to work, at least she’d see him.
“Thank you, Your Highness. I’ll try not to be too much trouble.”
“You may call me Leila, Nira, though I’d still call Fatiq by his title. You are our guest and I’ll not have you pinned down by a title when we shall talk so often.” The woman went to look out the windows, and then gestured to the maid again, gave instructions for the windows to be opened and for Nira to be left to sleep until dinner. Then she turned back to Nira. “I’ll leave you to your rest. Welcome to Qas
r Almas.”
Everyone filtered out of her suite and Nira got out of the bed to find her phone. She fumbled through her handbag, flicked it on and immediately texted Dakan.
Does your mother know? And can she not be told if not?
I don’t know if she knows. Try to forget it.
Forget that they’d been caught, or forget what had happened?
She sat down on the bed again and tried to rewind what Dakan had said to her earlier.
“Last night should never have happened.”
And “I can’t be with you.”
So it was over?
She lifted the phone again and texted.
Will you be at dinner?
No.
Breakfast?
I’m not going to be in the palace much. Rest. Work next week.
Or next month. I have access to a whole library here.
She waited for ten minutes for him to rise to her bait, but realized with a sinking feeling that he wasn’t going to. Why did all her relationship arguments come down to texting?
Not trusting herself to stay calm if she rang Dakan, she walked back to the doorway and turned so she could get the whole room in an image. In an adjoining bathroom she took a photo of herself in robes that obviously didn’t belong to her.
She sent both pictures to her mother with captions: My bedroom. My new outfit...
Then she dialed her mum’s number. If that didn’t make her pick up, nothing would.
She’d had enough of treading lightly.
* * *
The following Monday, having convinced the healer that she was fit enough to sit quietly at a desk and draw pictures, Nira let herself back into the penthouse. Tahira came in from the other room, and bowed upon seeing her.
“I’ll be coming daily to work on the hospital,” she said, moving directly to the desk so she could unload her laptop and sketchbook, all she’d had to work with since being moved to Qasr Almas.
Challenging the Doctor Sheikh Page 14