by Nana Prah
The distance to any of the exits combined with her screaming muscles held her in place. For the past few days, she’d been coached by Zareb’s assistants. Today, he’d decided to cram ten hours of training into a four-hour morning workout.
She considered herself lucky that the prince rarely showed up in the evenings. The multitudes of pushups, squats and weight repetitions had left her arms and legs feeling limp and lifeless after an exhaustive run on the palace grounds. The great part was that it had taken less effort to keep up with him compared to their first day of training.
Slinking deeper behind the plant into the nook as she noticed not only the queen but Zareb scanning the room, she came to the conclusion that she couldn’t go through with it.
Why had she listened to the queen?
Because you want a chance to get to know Zareb outside the fencing world.
As a woman.
If she couldn’t be honest with him, she could at least be so with herself.
A couple strolled past. The suspicious staring had her standing straight and touching the plant as if assessing what kind of species it was. She either had to garner the courage to talk to the prince as Malika or— Well, there was no other option.
She smoothed the full-length skirt of her hunter-green and silver off-the-shoulder silk dress. With a nod to her inner self, she stirred up every ounce of strength she possessed to face him.
Queen Zulekha’s personal makeup artist had applied her gifted touch to Malika’s face after she’d made an earlier appearance as Sule for an hour. Her jaw had dropped when she’d been allowed to look in the mirror. She’d hardly recognized herself through the mask of foundation that matched her dark-cinnamon-hued skin and heavy eye shadow done in shades of shimmery copper and beige. A light layer of false eyelashes swept over her cheeks when she closed her eyes.
Sule had disappeared under the glued-on, curly human front-laced wig that fell to her shoulders, reminding her of the hair she’d cut off in order to play her masculine role. Whoever met her tonight would only see an average height, slim woman wearing glasses. Since the non-prescription accessory had worked for Clark Kent, she had nothing to lose.
With a step forward out of the alcove, she sealed her fate. Air got sucked in as a triple shudder when Zareb’s dark eyes met and captured hers. Was it interest or suspicion that kept him staring?
She rubbed her arms to dispel the goosebumps that peppered her skin. In the two-inch heels, she put a bit more swing into her hips as she walked across the floor. Every step jarred her muscles, but it was worth it to see his eyes roam over her from head to toe.
Standing before the duo, her heart skipping a beat when Zareb grinned. In the three weeks they’d been training, his lips had never curved upward in such an obvious manner. A subtle smirk had been all she’d witnessed.
“Where have you been?” The queen didn’t allow an answer before saying, “This is my youngest son, Prince Zareb.”
Queen Zulekha seemed to take delight in the drama of the moment because the pause was long enough to have had a drumroll.
“My dear boy, this is Malika Ahvanti of Loras.”
Malika curtsied as the unswerving attention of Zareb’s gaze burned into her.
Rather than the arrogant nod Sule had received, he extended his hand. She reached to shake it, and when their skin met, a current of electricity shot along her palm, shocking her into pulling away. Well, she would’ve if he hadn’t held it hostage.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
His voice dropped into a smoother, deeper baritone than she’d ever heard before.
She held her body still as a shiver ran along her spine. Her lids slid closed to savour the warmth settling low in her belly. Looking back into his eyes, she tried half-heartedly to extract herself from his grip, but he maintained the contact.
“You also, Your Highness.”
The throng of people disappeared as he studied her.
“You’re Sule’s older sister.”
Glad that he hadn’t pegged her as Sule himself, she tipped her head.
“My son is chief of security,” the queen intruded on the exclusivity they’d been bubbled in. “He does a background check on everyone who resides in the palace. I’m sure he could order Sule’s preferred toothpaste if he had a mind to.”
Malika giggled, hoping it sounded real. She hated being thrown off-balance, and this situation was akin to walking on a piece of elevated dental floss in stilettoes while tipsy.
Zareb released her hand, leaving her chilled and wanting to snuggle up to his heat.
She watched his hair in fascination as he flipped it out of his face. Unlike when they trained, his glorious mane was free, reaching just below the tops of his broad shoulders. She balled her fingers into fists to keep from reaching out to flaunt decorum and satisfy the desire to touch.
His top, made out of quality yellow brocade, was adorned by black stitching at the neckline that descended to what she knew to be a rippled abdomen. She swallowed the saliva threatening to dribble from the side of her mouth at the memory of his shirtless body, sweaty with straining muscles as he’d pushed himself as if he were the one in training during their workouts.
Malika couldn’t pinpoint it, but something changed in his demeanour as he watched her. Unnerved, she’d rather run a mile barefoot over sharp rocks than be intimidated. She maintained steady eye contact with his mesmerizing sable-brown eyes. No hardship on her part as she fell into their depths.
“You hold an uncanny resemblance to your brother.”
Taking a risk, she did something that Sule would never do and gave him a lopsided grin as she dipped her chin with a scrunch of her nose. “Yes, we get that a lot. He’s told me more than once how much he can’t wait for that to change.”
As if the three feet between them was too great a distance to be apart, he took a step closer. Her own heeled feet urged her to decrease the gap. She tore her gaze from his by turning her head and caught sight of the queen observing them with a smirk in place.
Malika’s cheeks flamed at the I-told-you-so evident in the queen’s expression.
He diverted his attention to his mother and tugged on his top. “Where’s Sule?”
Queen Zulekha fielded the answer. “He was here earlier. I told him to go up and rest when he mentioned that he was exhausted. The young man seems dedicated.”
Zareb glanced between them, and she suddenly felt exposed. Would he catch their scheme? They were playing a dangerous game with a vicious and intelligent man. The combination made her nervous, yet not enough to back out of being Sule.
“Yes,” she said. “My brother told me that he has never been trained so thoroughly. He brags about it just before he drops off to sleep while still on the phone with me.”
She and the queen laughed while Zareb’s expression remained indifferent.
The older woman flipped a ring-adorned hand towards the door. “I see that my husband has returned. I’m going to join him.”
Malika’s stomach twisted like the string liquorice she used to tie up before eating. Being alone with Zareb wasn’t going to happen. “Of course, Your Majesty. If you will pardon me, I’ll be leaving soon. I’ve had a long day.”
“I’m sure you have. My son will escort you to your room for the night when you’re ready to retire.” Queen Zulekha left, avoiding any potential disagreement with her order.
Unsure of what to do while in Zareb’s presence without a sword between them, Malika said the first thing that came to mind. “Have you eaten?”
His lips lifted into a partial smile, causing her heart to summersault. If he would stop doing that, perhaps she’d be able to think more clearly.
“Why do women always seem to care about what’s in my stomach?”
“You know what they say about the stomach being the way to a man’s heart.”
He placed one of his large hands on his abdomen. “Not mine.”
“What’s the way to your heart?”
&nb
sp; She squeezed the metal rim of her clutch bag to stop her throbbing hand from reaching out to smooth his furrowed brow. Strangers didn’t caress each other, no matter how much she wondered about how soft his skin would be.
“I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it. It’s a good question, though.” His gaze arced around the room before returning to her. “I have a question of my own for you.”
Whatever he had on his enigmatic mind couldn’t be good. Escaping would be a wonderful idea at this point, but she couldn’t bring herself to move away from his side. Not when he was being friendly and smelled wonderful. Fresh and spicy, like an orange had been marinated with cloves.
The moment their eyes had met tonight, the truth had leapt in her heart. It’d been more than the fancifulness of a young girl all those years ago when she’d made her childish confession to the queen.
She would marry Prince Zareb.
Chapter Eight
Forced to blink due to the dryness of his eyes from ogling Malika’s striking beauty for so long, Zareb resumed the activity when his lids reopened. Definitely not Sule, yet the two could be identical twins if they had been of the same sex. The difference being that Malika was a fully grown, spectacular woman who knew how to speak her mind and smile, while Sule was a quiet and reserved young man.
He didn’t know much about Sule. They spent their time together training or discussing fencing techniques. After the disconcerting reaction he’d had to the boy, he avoided making an effort to get to know him. It had worked because whatever had passed between them hadn’t resurfaced. He’d stressed himself out over nothing.
Tonight, he’d focus on Malika’s almond-shaped eyes fringed with long dark lashes. The artfully applied makeup emphasized her cheekbones and lips that beckoned to nibble. Would she be a good kisser?
He drew back at the inappropriate thought. He’d just met the woman. And somehow, the electrical currents between them felt familiar. Intense, as his heart thumped against his ribs as if wanting to make its presence aware to her.
She intrigued him. Perhaps it was the way she didn’t cower in his presence or giggle like some sort of mindless twit.
“I won’t promise to answer your question, Your Highness, but you may ask,” she said.
Question? He’d forgotten that he’d had one.
From his peripheral vision, he noticed one of the younger women leading an older one in his direction. His radar went off, and rather than stand there as a blatant target for someone trying to hook a prince, he touched Malika’s elbow. The same pleasurable singe of heat he’d experienced when they’d shaken hands zipped up his arm.
The magnetic draw of his body to her brought his lips near her ear. The light, sensual musk of her floral scent hit his nostrils, entreating a longing to pull her against him so he could lick her exposed shoulder.
“Your Highness?”
The huskiness in her voice enflamed his sudden desire.
He cleared his throat and his lust.
“One of the women my mother previously attempted to set me up with is on her way over here. I don’t feel up to dealing with her tenacious and rather hands-on nature tonight. Can we take our conversation elsewhere?”
The curt nod served as consent. He guided her through the throng of people, stopping to give brief greetings to a few along the way. He stopped to say hello to his second mother.
“This is my mother, Queen Sapphire. Please meet Malika Ahvanti, the sister of the young man that I have been training recently.”
Malika curtsied.
“It’s lovely to meet you. Sule is a polite young man. And if Zareb is coaching him in fencing, he must be extraordinary.”
Malika’s smile took up her face. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I’ll be sure to relay the message to my father. He’ll be very proud.”
“As he should be.”
Zareb cupped her elbow. “Malika says that she’s tired, so I’m going to escort her to her room.”
Queen Sapphire’s eyes glittered. “Have a good night.”
Back on the path to escaping the gathering, they reached the doors which led to the corridors of his family home. He nodded to the guards on the way out as the tension left his shoulders. With reluctance, he released Malika’s arm rather than glide his hand along the radiant skin.
They encountered a few latecomers in the hallway as her heels clicked against the marble floor. His customized soft-soled dress shoes allowed no one to be aware of his presence unless he wanted them to.
“I take it you don’t like parties.”
He took a double look at the woman whose voice reminded him of Sule’s. Odd and disconcerting despite how much he enjoyed it tickling his ear when it came from her succulent mouth.
“What makes you say that?”
“You were over three hours late, and despite the excuse of having a stalker, your light shifting from foot to foot revealed that you’d bolt at any moment.”
He added observant to the list of things he’d found to like about Malika so far.
“I prefer to be alone. Engaging with people drains me.”
She lowered her head and looked up at him. “And yet, you’re here with me.”
Was she flirting or just stating a fact? Giving in to his insane desire to drag her against his chest and kiss her would likely get him slapped. He ignored doing anything which would bring a rift between their families and clasped his hands behind his back as they roamed through the palace.
With his need to touch her tucked in a safe place, he spoke. “I noticed that you’re not a fan of people, either.”
“What gave you that impression?”
“Extroverts don’t tend to dwell behind potted plants. They mingle.”
The laughter was rich and boisterous as she placed a hand over her stomach. “I should be embarrassed about my behaviour. Or at least getting caught at it.”
He let the silence linger, giving her the chance to explain.
“I enjoy parties. What I detest is being set up. It’s never ended well for me. I prefer organic meets because they’re, well, natural. I was trying to find my way out of the situation with a little bit of decorum.” Her hands raised with palms up, appearing like surrender. “Looks like it was an abysmal failure.”
“Understandable. I know what my mother is capable of, and I walked right into her trap. It’s hard not to when she lays them out with such precision.”
Malika nodded with vigour. “She’s a genius.”
“Indeed.”
They took a right at the top of a set of stairs and passed a few doors.
“You didn’t want to meet me?” The discernible petulance in his voice irritated him. He wasn’t as friendly as his brothers, but he was a catch, even when he didn’t want to be.
As if realizing that her words had offended, she placed a hand against his upper arm. The heat spread, swirling into his chest and settling beneath his ribs.
“It wasn’t personal.” She removed her touch, clasping her fingers together. “I have other aspirations than meeting a man at this point. Getting into a relationship isn’t a priority.”
“What’s your objective?”
“To be the best at what I seek to achieve.”
“Which is?”
A smirk lit up her face as she looked at him from the corner of her eye. “Would you believe me if I said, with all due humility, that it’s to kick ass?”
The unexpected directness induced a chuckle. “I’d believe it.”
“What did you want to ask?”
Zareb’s mind jostled to think of something plausible because he’d completely forgotten. What was it about her that made him want to draw out all of her secrets and to reveal the softer, kinder parts of him that only those who loved him knew existed?
Less than thirty minutes had passed since his senses had popped to life with the introduction of her presence. Did she feel it? The sensual energy undulated between them, the likes of which he couldn’t recall experiencing. Instinct pushed him t
o discover more about the beguiling woman.
It didn’t make sense to like a stranger immediately. Wariness with a distrust of everything and everyone until he could assess them was more his style. Most people never jumped over that threshold. Yet, here he was, wanting to share without her having proven a thing to him.
Lust. A culprit for drawing a man into situations he didn’t belong. It had been a long time since he’d let his libido take charge. He’d gained control over his pleasure-seeking member, understanding the dangers it could lead him into. When he engaged with the women who shared his bed, it was with full knowledge that it would lead nowhere.
As much as he wanted Malika, it was more than desire threading under his skin. He liked her. Not knowing much about her didn’t deter the feeling, which set him even further off-balance.
He’d heard of men falling in love after meeting a woman for the first time. He’d sneered when his twin brother Zed had told the story of his initial encounter with Rio because such strong emotions didn’t seem possible. Not that he was in love with the lovely Malika, but he could envision himself getting there.
So, he scoffed.
***
Malika jumped at his grunted reply to the innocuous question. Perhaps he was as gruff with everyone as he’d been with Sule. It left her stuck between disappointment and feeling better that he didn’t hate Sule.
“Have I offended you, Your Highness?”
His head jerked back. “Not at all. I was reacting to something else. I apologize.”
Saliva went down the wrong tube, and she coughed, choking.
“Are you okay?”
Stepping away so he couldn’t reach out to pound on her back like she’d have done in this situation, she caught her breath. “I’m all right. In a state of shock from your apology. I could do with some water.”
He removed a ring of keys from his pocket and slid the one he’d separated into the door on their right. They walked into a simple yet tasteful suite identical to Sule’s. He went to the refrigerator, removed a chilled bottle of water, then opened and handed it to her.