by Pippa Roscoe
‘Wahed, I’m so sorry. I had no idea that so much time had passed!’ She was shocked and annoyed with herself for being such an imposition. The exhibition should have closed fifteen minutes ago and Wahed had been so helpful showing her around earlier. She smiled her brightest and most sincere smile, leaving the room just before she could catch the blush that rose to his cheeks, and drifted towards the exit.
Her first day hadn’t been a failure exactly, she thought as she made her way towards the exit. Yes, they were short on time, Star admitted to herself, but the ache in her heart from a sadly now familiar panic would help absolutely no one, certainly not her mother.
The day after Skye had flown to Costa Rica, Summer had decoded the second part of the hidden messages Catherine had left in her private journals to reveal a description of a special key that could be found in Duratra. The key would unlock the room where Catherine had hidden the Soames diamonds.
With Skye tracking down the map of the hidden passageways, Star felt with every ounce of her being that finding the key was the final step in finding the jewels. When they did that they would have met the terms of their grandfather’s will and they could finally sell the estate and be able to pay for the treatment that would save their mother’s life.
On the plane to Duratra, Star had read and reread the stories of Catherine’s adventures in the Middle East while travelling with her uncle and his wife. Catherine’s father had been convinced that being a companion to her aunt by marriage would keep her out of harm’s way until she was ready to marry someone suitable.
Even now, Star smiled at the thought of what Catherine had managed to get up to under the lazy eye of her aunt, of the poignant relationship that had developed between Catherine and Hātem. A smile that slowly fell as she remembered reading of the heartache of the two lovers as they had been forced apart by duty.
But, despite that, after she had returned to England, when Catherine had reached out to Hātem to ask him to make a key of special design, he had created something marvellous: a key that could be separated into two sections that mirrored each other. When joined, they would open a special lock, but when separate they could each be worn on a necklace. He had sent Catherine one half of the key and the lock, and he—as Catherine had requested—had kept the other. To Star, the fact that Hātem would always have a piece of Catherine with him was, as her sisters mocked her constantly for saying, so romantic.
Her fingers went to the chain around her neck, patting the thick twist beneath the thin material of her dress, reassuring herself it was still there. Tomorrow, she would leave it in the safe of her hotel room. But for this first day she’d wanted it with her, as if perhaps somehow it would draw out its other half. She’d had no idea of its significance when she’d first picked up the necklace from amongst the journals in the hidden recess in the library. Only that she was drawn to it. And now she couldn’t help but feel a little as if it had been fate.
As Star made her way down the brightly lit corridors of the exhibition halls, weaving around obstacles with unseeing eyes, even she had to concede that she might have become a little carried away by the romance of another star-crossed love affair involving her ancestor, but she would never regret coming to Duratra, no matter what.
She had already fallen half in love with the bustling, incredible, beautiful city. In the fifteen-minute walk between her hotel and the palace that morning she had been surrounded by impossibly tall apartment buildings and office complexes and passed sprawling open-air markets before reaching the ancient stone structure of the palace in Duratra’s capital, Burami. It was a clash of modern and ancient, as sleek electric cars glided silently down tiny cobbled streets and animals carried food, silks and spices to stalls that also sold the latest mobile phones and music players.
Star marvelled at the feeling that she was walking in both the past and the present—that her steps filled the footprints left behind by Catherine herself. And whether that worked to add a layer of magic and mysticism to the mundane, Star wasn’t sure that she minded because of how complete and whole that sense of interconnectivity made her feel. Not that she’d say so out loud, and certainly not to her sisters, who would laugh at her when they didn’t think she could hear.
So, despite the fact that she hadn’t managed to find any reference to Catherine’s necklace, Star wasn’t discouraged. Instead, she was looking forward to seeing Burami at night and was even more eager to return tomorrow for the next section of the exhibition.
She was so lost in her train of thought that she walked straight into something tall, broad, not very soft but most definitely clothed. And breathing.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry. Really, so—’ She started apologising before she looked up, which was probably a good thing because her words were cut short by just one glimpse of the impossibly handsome man staring down at her as if he was more surprised than she was.
Star immediately pulled her eyes from his as if somehow that could stop the searing heat flashing over her skin. She blinked a few times, hoping that would clear whatever had come over her. If she’d been asked in that moment what he looked like, she’d not have been able to answer for all the world. But something instinctual told her that she would have known if he’d been within one hundred feet of her. Even now she felt it, the waves of something more...physical than sight. More visceral.
Still unwilling to meet his gaze, and genuinely concerned about the power he seemed to have over her body, she tried to extract herself from the situation. ‘I really am sorry. I genuinely didn’t see you there, which does seem a little implausible given...’ at this point her hand entered the fray and gestured to the rather large entirety of him ‘...all that. You see, I get a little lost in my thoughts sometimes,’ she tried to explain, finally daring to lift her eyes. ‘I’m Star and...’ she resisted the need to look away and ignored the burning in her cheeks ‘...I’m clearly assuming that you speak English, which suddenly feels quite conceited.’
The almost minuscule twitch at the corner of his lips made her think that he might be smiling at her rambling and Star sighed in relief at the indication that he at least seemed to understand what she was saying. ‘I hadn’t meant to be this late, or get this lost. I was in the exhibition,’ she said, looking behind her and frowning, unable to recognise the corridor she was in, ‘and time just...’ She bit her lip, shrugging, wondering why he hadn’t interrupted her yet. Her sisters would have. The teachers she worked with would have smiled vaguely and just pressed on past her. But he was still there. She knew this because she was now staring fixedly at his chest, debating whether Dickens had been onto something with the whole spontaneous combustion thing.
But the longer he stood there, not saying anything, the more aware she became of...him. This was silly. Maybe she was overreacting.
‘Star...’
Her name on his lips drew her eyes upward like a magnet and she was immediately struck by the sheer force of his gaze.
Nope.
She had not been overreacting. He was looking at her as if she had the answer to an unspoken question. She felt as if he were searching for something within her.
She shook her head, severing the strange connection, and slapped him gently on the arm. ‘You do speak English,’ she chided, peering over his shoulder for the exit and missing the look of absolute and complete shock that had entered the man’s eyes, which he’d managed to mask by the time she returned her attention to him. ‘You had me going there for a moment.’
‘Sir—’
Star turned in time to see Wahed, his eyes bright and his cheeks red, rushing towards them, making Star think that she really had overstayed her welcome.
‘Wahed, I’m sorry. I took a wrong turn and bumped into...’ She turned back towards the man she had bumped into, deciding it was safer to look somewhere around the area of his left shoulder. And then became slightly distracted by the way his suit jacket fitted perfectly to the�
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‘Kal.’
She jerked her eyes to his briefly, before turning back to Wahed. ‘Kal. Yes. Right. As I was saying, I got a bit turned around and couldn’t find the exit, but I can see it now,’ she said, spotting a green sign with white writing and an arrow that she could only presume to be a sign pointing to the exit.
Looping her arm through the arm of the man mountain she had crashed into, she determinedly dragged him with her as she made her way to the exit. She could not afford to get herself barred from the exhibition and, to avoid any more trouble, she was removing herself and this other tourist from the premises ASAP.
‘Come on, Kal,’ she said, passing Wahed, who looked a little as if he were about to explode.
* * *
Khalif was so busy processing the fact that this woman knew the first name of his security guard, whilst simultaneously calculating the number of royal codes of etiquette she had broken simply by touching him, that he did nothing to stop her from marching him halfway towards the fire exit that was for staff use only. But, even if he hadn’t been, Khalif could not be one hundred per cent sure that he would have dislodged her tiny pale hand from his elbow. It was so small and delicate he feared he might break it.
He was still staring at it as they drew closer to Wahed, as if by studying the delicate fingers splayed across his forearm a second longer he’d be able to identify just why it was that something so small was sending enough electric currents across his skin to light the city of Burami for a month. And that was when he realised that it was the first physical contact he’d had with another person in nearly six weeks.
Obviously Khalif had not been under the naïve impression that he’d be able to continue his romantic liaisons while being first in line to the throne, but he’d not expected the strange social distancing effect the position would hold. Where once he’d have been able to slap Jamal on the back as he’d mocked him about his wife, now there was the painfully awkward renegotiation of power that still didn’t quite sit right with him. And where once he’d have been more than able to remove the tiny pale hand from his elbow, now he seemed entirely incapable.
Wahed hadn’t taken his eyes from Khalif, eyes that had grown rounder and wider the closer they came, sweat breaking out on the man’s forehead as he clearly tried to figure out how to get his country’s Prince out of the hands of this flame-haired pixie-sized bombshell.
‘Goodnight, Wahed,’ Star said as they drew level. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she stated.
The look of panic increased on Wahed’s features and Khalif had to look away in case he laughed and shamed the man even more.
‘Tomorrow?’ the guard asked weakly.
‘Oh, yes, I’ve only covered the first part of the exhibition. I have three more parts to explore over the next three days,’ she said, throwing the words over her shoulder.
‘You’re going to explore the exhibition for three more days...?’
Khalif couldn’t be sure, but he was half convinced he’d heard an actual whimper from Wahed, who was now staring after them as Star continued to guide him towards the exit.
Unable to help it any more, Khalif allowed the tug on his lips to form a full grin and his chest filled with the need to laugh. It bubbled up, filling his lungs and pushing outwards, and he felt lighter than he had in weeks. Months even. Years... The thought was a pin pressed into a balloon as he realised it was how he had felt before. Before his brother had died.
‘Did you like it?’ she asked, having turned around, looking up at him and squinting in the late afternoon sun. She’d managed to get them out into the staff courtyard, where he saw Jamal peering at them through the window of the security suite.
‘Like what?’ he said, shaking his head to Jamal to signal that he didn’t need their help.
‘The exhibition,’ she said, laughing again, as if she were half laughing at him and half with him. That sound, so light, so carefree, caught him like a physical blow. He was almost jealous of it. Her hand was still at the crook of his arm and he knew that he really needed to remove it, but he just couldn’t bring himself to yet.
‘Well, I don’t want to give anything away. You still have quite a bit to cover.’
Rather than being disappointed by his answer, she seemed excited.
‘Perfect! Please don’t. I like surprises.’
Her face, upturned to the lazy yellow lowering sun, was a picture. Despite the expectation of green suggested by the red hair that was still just about tucked behind her headscarf, her eyes were blue—the dark blue of dusk.
‘Star,’ he said, understanding dawning on him.
‘Yes?’
‘No, sorry. I...’
I am never tongue-tied.
Pull. Yourself. Together.
‘It’s an unusual name,’ he clarified.
She looked at him as if she could tell that wasn’t what he’d intended to say. As if she could somehow sense things about him that he didn’t want to share. That strange dusky blue of her irises seemed almost prescient. The dusting of freckles across her nose fanned out over her cheeks as if she’d been flecked with gold. He found himself leaning down towards her as if subconsciously trying to take a closer look, as if he was trying to count the freckles, as if there was something he was trying to work out about her but didn’t know what.
‘Yes. Even in England. And Kal?’
‘It’s...an old nickname.’ It had only been used by his brother and Samira. He’d not said it or heard it for three years.
If she’d noticed that he hadn’t answered her implied question and revealed the whole of his name she didn’t seem offended by it. She turned to look beyond the railings surrounding the staff exit to the palace and frowned.
‘I think perhaps this wasn’t the exit,’ she said as she finally let go of his arm and took a step towards the road that ran the length of the capital city.
‘Do you know where you’re going?’ he asked. There was no way he could leave her in the middle of Burami—she seemed entirely capable of bringing about some kind of massive accident that would be sure to bring his country to a grinding halt for months.
She raised her hand to her eyes and looked out beyond the railings. He followed the direction of her gaze and clenched his jaw. In the distance he could see his father’s sleek black motorcade making its way back to the palace and he felt the tightening of the steel bands of duty around his wrists.
‘Yes. I can see the café there on the corner. That’s the road my hotel is on. It’s a...’ She turned to look up at him. ‘It’s a nice café. If you’d...’ She shrugged as if hedging her bets as to whether to finish the sentence or not.
He looked away, hiding just how much he wanted to say yes, from both her and himself. He smiled sadly and by the time his gaze had returned to those eyes understanding had dawned in them. ‘Please take a car to your hotel. You are safe in Duratra. But perhaps Duratra is not safe from you,’ he said. It was meant to be a tease, a light exchange before he left, but it had come out differently. It had been a warning from a man who was the embodiment of his country.
Dusk descended in her eyes and for a moment it was as if she had understood. And then the smile was back in place, the one that had hypnotised all the palace staff she had encountered—and he could see why.
She nodded and he watched her walk away, just as a gust of wind pressed the white-and-green-striped dress against the back of her legs, causing an explosion of erotic thoughts until Khalif’s father’s car turned the corner and grim reality intruded.
CHAPTER TWO
FOR WHAT FELT like the hundredth time that day, Star forced herself to reread the English translation of the description of how Duratra had been one of the largest academic centres during the height of the Ottoman Empire. But she just couldn’t concentrate. Instead of finding clues or traces of Catherine or the necklace within the paintings and history of t
his beautiful country, she was hoping to see Kal—despite being aware of how unlikely it was.
She’d gone over and over their encounter in minute detail from the moment she’d left him in the courtyard until her latest breath. Although she’d initially thought him a tourist like her, she now thought that perhaps he worked at the palace. While she’d not wanted to give Wahed a reason to ban her from the palace exhibition, she now wondered if Wahed and Kal knew each other. Not that she’d asked the security guard when she’d seen him that morning.
No, sometimes it was better not to know, because this way she could imagine him as the undercover Prince of a neighbouring kingdom, here on a top-secret mission. Perhaps he was trying to correct some great wrong and he would need her help escaping Burami and together they could ride off into the desert and...
And then she laughed out loud at herself, not noticing how she had startled the other people in the very quiet room. She had never ridden a horse and couldn’t imagine that riding bareback would be comfortable. But being in his arms? Once again, Star felt herself flush from head to toe. Looking at him had been like looking at the sun. Heat. All-consuming heat that she’d had absolutely no control over whatsoever.
No one had ever had that effect on her. She’d read about it so many times but had honestly thought it just a metaphor. She’d wondered at it, had brought out the memory of him standing there, searching her face, her eyes and whoomph! Head to toe. Every time. Even now she felt that pink heat stain her cheeks and, lost in her own world, fanned her face, nearly taking out a large German tourist with her elbow.
As she moved further into the room, golden glints and rich magentas caught her eye and she came to stand before a tapestry that took up nearly the entire length of the room. It was exquisite in detail, despite the clear effects of age, inscriptions flowing beneath the images, and instead of fighting for space at the explanatory plaque, Star wanted to stand back. Take it in, just as it was.