A Golden Betrayal

by Barbara Dunlop

  Kalila giggled, covering the obvious slip with her hand. “I think I like you, Ann Richardson.”

  “Thanks. I mean, I think I like you, too.” Ann found herself lowering her voice. “I have to admit, I like that you’ve taken up with that British guy and thumbed your nose at your family. From what I’ve seen, that took guts.”

  Kalila’s smile faded. “The royal family will never allow us to be together.” She looked incredibly sad. “In some ways, I wish the king had never let me go to Istanbul. It was easier before I knew what I was missing.”

  Ann’s heart went out to Kalila. “Will things change after...?” She struggled to sort the words out in her head in a way that didn’t give offense. “I know the king is quite ill.”

  “You mean, when Raif becomes king, will he accept Niles?”

  “He might.” When Raif let his guard down, he seemed almost normal. He certainly understood the world beyond Rayas. And he hadn’t seemed to hold Ann’s gender against her. She was pretty certain he’d treated her just as poorly as he would have treated a man he’d suspected of stealing from him.

  Well, except for the sex part. But she’d assumed the sex was completely unrelated to the Gold Heart, and something Raif likely already regretted. At least, it seemed as if he already regretted it. He certainly hadn’t even hinted they do it again.

  “Raif will never accept Niles,” said Kalila with absolute conviction. “I am to marry Ari Alber. He’s the forty-year-old son and heir of an important sheik. Rayas must solidify our economic relationship with Brazil, India and Algeria. I can pout and posture, even rant until I’m blue in the face but, in the end, I will be forced to do my duty.”

  “You don’t like him?” Ann asked.

  “To be fair, I don’t know him well. But he’s stern and opinionated. He likes the old ways, and his mother—” Kalila abruptly stopped speaking.

  Ann was curious, but she didn’t want to pry. She guessed insulting the future royal in-laws in front of a stranger could get dicey.

  Kalila’s future sounded terrible, and Ann couldn’t begin to imagine the weight resting on the woman’s slim shoulders.

  They rode in silence for a while, and the beaches, shops and hotels turned to industrial buildings and the cranes and storage yards of a container port. The highway rose along a hillside, and they could look down on the semi-trailer trucks, heavy equipment and the rough-looking men operating them.

  Eventually Ann’s curiosity won out. “How will they force you to marry him?”

  “I need the king’s permission to marry, and he will not say yes for any other man.”

  “Because you’re young?”

  “All members of the royal family need the king’s permission to marry.”

  “Does Raif?”

  Ann didn’t like to wonder about the woman Raif might one day marry. But at times she couldn’t help herself. It would obviously have to be someone young, virginal, dark-eyed, blue-blooded and Rayasian. She wondered if Raif would hold out for someone he liked, or simply take the most advantageous offer. He certainly didn’t seem to care much about emotions.

  She reminded herself she should be grateful to know going in exactly how her affair would end. There was certainly nothing about plain old Ann Richardson that would benefit the crown prince of Rayas. Even if he had been interested in sleeping with her again, there was absolutely no future for them.

  “For now, yes,” Kalila answered Ann’s question. “Well, he always will need permission. But when he is king, he would be asking himself.”

  Kalila’s joke lightened the mood.

  “I wish there was something I could do to help you,” Ann found herself saying.

  “No one can help me.”

  “Have you thought about leaving Rayas? If you’re serious about this Niles guy, perhaps you could emigrate to Britain.”

  Kalila’s smile was sad. “It is very complicated. And far too many lives would be ruined by my actions.”

  “But they can ruin yours? Do I have to explain how that’s not fair?”

  In this day and age, there was no reason for a woman to sacrifice her life for the good of other people.

  “Is it fair that I’m a princess?” Kalila asked.

  Ann didn’t have a ready answer for that.

  “The good goes with the bad,” said Kalila. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t complain. I’m not going to make it easy for them.”

  “Good for you,” said Ann.

  Then Kalila pointed out the window. “Those are the palace gates.”

  Ann turned to see an expanse of polished white stone wall and an imposing set of wrought-iron gates. She sensed Kalila had said all she was going to about her future. And she found her stomach tightening in anticipation of seeing Raif.

  * * *

  There were days when Raif was weary of being crown prince. And this was one of them.

  “Weeks,” his father’s doctor was saying, expression grave. “Perhaps months.”

  His worst fears confirmed, Raif wanted to forget about the constant parade of royal duties and spend this precious time with his father.

  Able to hear the entire conversation, Tariq was standing near the door of the meeting room where Raif and the doctor sat at an oval mahogany table. Tariq wouldn’t rush them, but Raif could sense his impatience. There were a couple of dozen people outside the closed doors in the antechamber, waiting for an audience with the crown prince.

  “Is he in pain?” Raif asked.

  After so many bouts of partang fever, it was difficult to believe his father would not get well this time.

  “He rarely regains consciousness. And when he does, the nurse makes sure the morphine drip is at maximum. We are doing all we can to make him comfortable. But he is in no condition to run the country.”

  Raif nodded, the lump in his throat preventing speech.

  “I suggest you speak to the chancellor today, about an interim—”

  “No.” Raif’s answer was short.

  “There are matters that need—”

  “No,” Raif repeated with conviction. “He is king. Until the day he dies, he is king.”

  As Tariq moved closer to the conversation, his tone was conciliatory, and Raif knew he was being handled. “We understand your loyalty, Your Royal Highness, and it is admirable. But there are matters that cannot wait.”

  “The king is dying,” Raif answered coldly.

  “Ari Alber’s family is calling.” Tariq stood his ground.

  “I will speak to Kalila.”

  “And say what?” Tariq pressed.

  “That she must do her duty.”

  “And, if she won’t?”

  “She will.”

  “You do love denial,” Tariq muttered.

  Glancing back and forth at the standoff between the two men, the doctor chose the moment for a strategic retreat. He stood from his chair and crossed swiftly to the door. There, he gave a small, quick bow before exiting, and the door swung closed behind him.

  Raif knew he should rebuke Tariq for his insolence in front of the doctor, but he simply didn’t have the energy.

  “You need to warn them that she might refuse,” said Tariq.

  “And impact the trade deal?”

  “It’ll be worse if they’re blindsided by it later.”

  Raif knew Tariq was right. He didn’t voice agreement with him, but he didn’t argue any further either. He’d try reasoning with Kalila one more time before he contacted the Albers.

  “What else?” he asked instead, referring to the crowd of people outside the door. For the moment, he wanted to focus on a problem he could solve.

  Tariq appeared to understand. “The offshore boundary dispute between Masuer and Geenan provinces.”

  “Tell them to share and play nice.”

  Tariq smiled. “Certainly. Of course. How could that possibly end badly?”

  Raif brought his hands down on the carved, wooden arms of his chair. “Concede to Masuer on the border, and then a
pprove the money for the Geenan port expansion.”

  “Good decision,” said Tariq.

  “I’m so very pleased it meets with your approval.”

  “Don’t kill the messenger,” Tariq complained.

  “We both know you can take it. What else?”

  “Your uncle is shopping for support again.”

  “He’s upset about losing his bride.” Raif’s uncle was a traditional man, and his pride had been seriously damaged in the debacle.

  “True,” said Tariq. “But he’s turned his focus on you.”

  Raif’s uncle Prince Mallik had always coveted the throne of Rayas. He’d once gone so far as to petition the chancellor to reenact a three-hundred-year-old law allowing a king’s younger brother to succeed if the king’s eldest son was younger than thirty. The chancellor had flatly refused, and Raif’s birthday earlier this year had quashed even the faintest of Mallik’s hopes.

  “He’s out of time,” said Raif.

  “He’s spreading rumors that you’re unfit.”

  “In what way?”

  “That you’re too Western. You’ve lost touch with your roots. That Rayas needs a steady conservative hand at the helm.”

  “Are you worried?” asked Raif.

  “I’m monitoring,” Tariq replied. “Jordan has agreed to relocate to Rayas. He’s proving very valuable.”

  “Do you want me to help worry?”

  Tariq coughed out a laugh. “Not necessary.”

  “Good. What else?”

  “The HMS Safi hit a reef off Australia.”

  That kept Raif’s attention. “Is she still afloat?”

  “Yes, but she’s dead in the water. There’s a possible fuel leak. Jacx is on his way to oversee a repair and tow it into port.”

  “The crew is safe?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ll keep me posted?”

  “Of course. So, Jacx is still a captain?”

  Raif scowled. “You’re starting to sound like the king.”

  “That’s a bad thing?”

  “I’ve tried to make Jacx an admiral more than once,” Raif responded. “I can’t force him to wear the stars.”

  “Technically, you can. But I don’t suppose it would help anything. He is a good man.”

  “Yes, he’s a good man,” Raif agreed. “And we owe him.”

  Several months ago, Jacx had stepped in when Raif’s distant cousin’s groom, Daud, had abruptly announced a change of heart at the altar. What could have been an embarrassing incident for the royal family had turned into a celebration.

  Personally, Raif had always admired Jacx a whole lot more than he’d admired the rather spoiled, shallow and weak Daud. And the moment Jacx stepped up at the wedding, Raif had realized he was the right man for Princess Salima. Daud was a fool.

  “So long as you’re trying,” Tariq commented.

  Raif didn’t bother responding. “What else?” he asked Tariq.

  “Five bank presidents are cooling their heels in the Seaboard Room,” Tariq said, bringing Raif back to the present.

  “Will the banking system fail if I cancel the meeting?” Protocol be damned. Raif was going to talk to Ann this morning. Tariq and Kalila could chaperone.

  “Yes,” Tariq answered, his expression serious.

  “Will it fail today?” Raif pressed.

  “No, but there’ll be a ripple effect on the markets. There are already rumors about the king’s health. Your attendance at the meeting will provide reassurance. If you cancel, rumors will fly.”

  Raif stood from the meeting table, crossing to one of the big windows overlooking the man-made lake on the palace grounds. He let his gaze go soft on the colorful flowers, the swans and the fruit trees.

  With his father’s health deteriorating, Raif realized it was more important than ever that he focus on Rayas. But he couldn’t keep his mind from wandering to Ann. He’d seen her briefly after they arrived last night. But they were surrounded by the usual palace crowd. Then Kalila had spirited her off to a wing of the palace reserved for women.

  Neither of the women had made an appearance at the formal breakfast this morning.

  He’d never given much thought to his restrictive lifestyle and how many people were constantly around him when he was in Rayas. But now that he wanted to be alone with Ann, he found it very inconvenient.

  He could have called her cell phone, but didn’t know what he’d ask, to meet him somewhere, to sit down and chat with him and twenty of his closest friends? And then what? They’d have absolutely no privacy. Seeing her alone, in private, for more than a moment or two, would break protocol and ruin her reputation.

  He should have appreciated it more when he had her to himself in New York.

  “I’m going to be doing a lot of that, aren’t I?” he asked Tariq unnecessarily. “Providing reassurance while people speculate about the king.”

  “Yes,” Tariq agreed.

  Raif gripped the stone window ledge for a moment. He’d trained all his life for this, and now was the moment to step up. He couldn’t let his infatuation with Ann or anything else interfere with his duty.

  “Right,” he told his cousin. “Let’s go see the bankers.”

  Before they could move, the meeting room door flew open. Raif swung around, stunned by the unconscionable interruption, only to see six security guards barreling down on him.

  “Captain?” Tariq roared.

  “An alarm has been tripped in the south wing.” Even as the officer in charge of the detail called out the explanation, two guards flanked Raif, grasping his upper arms, giving him no choice but to move with them toward the door.

  “Ann,” Raif called to Tariq. “Get Ann. She may be in danger.”

  Before Tariq could acknowledge the command, Raif was rushing down the hall with his detail, moving through his father’s private office, through a concealed security door and into the narrow passage that led to a compact elevator.

  Captain Ronshan and one other guard entered the elevators with Raif. The door immediately slid shut, and the motor whirred as the elevator headed down five floors toward a subbasement.

  Raif gestured to the captain’s radio. “I want palace guest Ann Richardson brought to the bunker.” If this had anything to do with the Gold Heart, he needed to have her safe.

  “Tariq will bring her,” said Captain Ronshan.

  “Confirm it,” Raif ordered.

  The man spoke into the radio.

  Raif heard the affirmative answer crackle back. He gave Captain Ronshan a nod. “Tell me what happened.”

  “It was a third-tier alarm,” Captain Ronshan told him, barking a terse order into the radio for the security staff to seal the palace. “The perimeter alarm did not go off, neither did stage one or stage two.”

  “How is that possible?” Raif was far from being an expert on the technicalities of the palace alarm system, but he did understand that it functioned in stages. He’d been told it was virtually impossible for an intruder to get past the exterior system, never mind make it through two additional systems without detection.

  “We’re looking into it,” the captain responded grimly, as the elevator doors slid open.

  “The king is on his way?” Raif asked, pacing through the outer chamber of the bunker.

  “His Majesty is under armed guard. We did not dare move him.”

  “And, if it’s a bomb?” Raif demanded, completely unsatisfied with Captain Ronshan’s answer.

  The captain’s jaw set grimly. “It’s the doctor’s call.”

  “Get Dr. Plare on the radio,” Raif ordered. He wanted his father down in the bunker.

  There was an uncomfortable silence while the captain exchanged a look with the guard.

  “What?” Raif demanded, glancing from one man to the other. It was unacceptable for them to keep something from him.

  Captain Ronshan flinched. “The stretcher will not fit in the elevator. It would be excruciatingly painful for the king.”

 
Raif stopped dead at the entrance to the main room of the bunker. He turned around. “I am going back up.”

  “We cannot allow that.”

  “It is an order.”

  Captain Ronshan shook his head. “I have a standing order from the king that supersedes anything you say.”

  “You cannot stop me.”

  Captain Ronshan and the guard each grasped one of Raif’s arms.

  He gaped at them. “You would fight me?”

  “We cannot put you in danger.”

  “The king is in danger.” Raif couldn’t let his father sit upstairs alone facing a possible attack.

  Captain Ronshan stared unblinking at Raif.

  The elevator door slid open.

  With a burst of adrenaline, Raif shook free, only to stop when Tariq, Kalila and Ann appeared. Relief rushed through him all over again at the sight of Ann. He had to fight himself to keep from going to her and pulling her into his arms.

  “What’s going on?” she asked him, looking completely confused.

  “It’s nothing,” he quickly assured her. “Just a precaution. Probably a fault with the alarm system.”

  There was a very real chance that this had something to do with Ann and the Gold Heart statue. But he saw no reason to upset her.

  He looked to Tariq. “The king?”

  “I ordered the doctor to put him in a helicopter. They’re flying him to the royal suite at Fahead Hospital.”

  Raif nodded his appreciation to Tariq. That had been a wise move. If it was an assassin moving against the royal family, he would not find the king in his suite. If it was a bomb, the king would be out of the range of the explosion.

  “I want to know the minute he’s in the air,” Raif said to the captain.

  Captain Ronshan listened to his radio, asked for confirmation and then nodded to Raif. “They are airborne.”

  “Raif?” came Ann’s shaky voice.

  “Nothing to worry about,” he told her again.

  “This has happened before,” Kalila told Ann, even as Kalila’s gaze met Raif’s. She knew as well as he did that the previous times had been drills or national and international incidents, like protests or riots that were far away from the palace. Rarely had something directly threatened Valhan Palace, and certainly not the inner perimeter.