by Snihur, Erin
“Come to steal fabric from the royal coffers?” Amina croons softly, startling Batin.
His face even pales, as though he’s seen a ghost as he stands to full height and Amina’s breath loosens. Instead of cargo shorts or his flamboyant masquerade getup, Batin’s hair is slicked slightly back. His form fills out the dark suit and white dress shirt deliciously. The first two buttons remain undone and Amina blushes at the realization he might catch her staring at his chest. That chest that had pressed against her own as he had driven his hard cock into her pussy, shattering her into orgasmic bliss.
Turning her gaze to his familiar green-brown eyes, Amina tilts her head as she simply states, “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”
“I know, but there’s something I have to tell…” Batin’s deep voice is but a whisper and anything he wants to say is completely muffled by the sound of Abrar’s hissing voice.
“Your Highness! It is time for the dinner to begin!” As Abrar appears at her side, he immediately takes in Batin. For a second, his eyes go wide and his face pales before a cool mask is in its place as he takes in Batin from head to toe, “Oh, I do apologize. And you are?”
“This is⎼,” Amina begins introductions, but is interrupted again by a black suited man who appears behind Batin. The new man’s eyes squint as he moves into position and Amina immediately recognizes his stance as that of a bodyguard.
“Prince Maarku Majeed, of Aman,” the guard murmurs as an introduction as he casts his wary eyes on Abrar. Amina’s mind races. What did that man just say? Prince? Batin is a Prince?
Realizing he is in the presence of royalty, Abrar bows lowly and mutters, “My Lord, an honor for you to attend the festivities in your brother’s stead.”
Amina’s mind, still racing, allows the first thing that comes to her mind to spew from her mouth, “You lied to me. You said your name was Batin.” Inwardly, Amina knows he has done more than just lie. He has made a complete mockery of her. As evidenced by her still tender pussy.
All eyes turn on her and Abrar gives her a horrified look before sputtering an explanation to Batin, or rather, Prince Maarku.
“I do apologize, my Lord, her Highness must have you confused with someone else.”
“She is not wrong and I do apologize for the deceit, your Majesty, but I believe we are evenly matched, since you as well, lied to me,” Maarku finally speaks up for himself, his voice silky, just as she remembered from that night in the closet.
A noise sounds in the ballroom behind them and Abrar, obviously wanting to sweep Amina far away from Maarku, offers her his arm, “Your Highness, dinner is about to begin. Allow me to escort you.”
Before she even thinks of accepting, Maarku takes a step forward, his eyes mocking as he croons, “Forgive me, if I am incorrect, but in Aman, a Royal can only escort another Royal, if they are unmarried or the like. I believe this is customary for many Arabian countries, is it not?”
Abrar’s face turns red with outrage. Amina, inwardly chuckles at her advisor’s face, interrupts, what would no doubt be an angry tirade. Placing her hand in the crux of Maarku’s offered arm, Amina smiles innocently at Abrar.
“We must honor our traditions, right, Abrar?” Amina murmurs.
“Yes, my Lady,” Abrar hisses and bows, “Let me announce you.”
With that he scurries away and once he’s gone, Amina tries to pull her hand away from Maarku, “Alright, he’s gone. You can release me.”
“Not likely, Mina,” Maarku purrs at her side and begins dragging her towards the archway. At their backs, his guard follows at a safe distance.
Shivering at his words, Amina schools her features as they enter the ballroom and all eyes seem to land on them. Or more importantly, her. Amina can’t help but wonder if they know exactly what she and Maarku had done a few nights ago.
“Everyone is s staring…” Amina whispers, mostly to herself.
“Can’t say that I blame them. You look beautiful,” Maarku responds, not even bothering to keep quiet about his words, earning a few wide eyes and hissing whispers in response.
Thankfully, Abrar takes that moment to call out to her many guests, “Ladies and Gentlemen, it is with great honor that I welcome you on behalf of the royal family and Sheikha Amina Aqila to our beloved palace. Dinner is now ready to be served, so if you could please find your assigned seats, we can get started.”
Turning to him, Amina watches in amusement as Abrar shoots Maarku a cold look before motioning towards the head of the table, “This way, my Lady. My Lord.”
Allowing Maarku to guide her, Amina blushes as all eyes watch them walk to her seat at the head of the table. Once there, her face visibly pales at the sight of the tall, thin man with small eyes that shift over her, causing her skin to crawl in disgust. The man rises from his seat, directly on the left of her chair. Amina tries to school her features and stop herself from sneering at the man in disgust.
Sahl Irani. Abrar’s nephew.
Obviously noticing her tense form, Maarku mutters, “Friend of yours?”
“Amina! Look how you’ve grown.” Sahl cries out as his gaze drifts from her head to her barely concealed cleavage, gaining her other guests’ attention. A few whispers amongst themselves at the new drama unfolding. No doubt the rumor mill would go rampant, first with her being escorted to the table by Prince Maarku and now Sahl’s obvious disrespect when it came to her new title.
“You mean, her Highness?” Maarku pipes up, coming to her rescue as he practically pushes past Sahl to escort her to the high backed chair, which a servant quickly pulls out.
Squeezing Maarku’s arm that is still clasped in her hand, Amina forces a cool smile in Sahl’s direction, “Good evening, Sahl. Welcome back to Kulaz. Abrar mentioned something about your return from the States.”
While it is customary for those beneath the royal family to wait until the Sheik or Sheikha is seated first before taking their own seats, Sahl has obviously forgotten. Much to Abrar’s horror as the older advisor stands by the seat at her right, watching his nephews blunder.
Maarku snorts at her side and Amina raises her eyebrow at Sahl until he notices everyone staring at him and immediately jumps up at the sound of his uncle's hissed order. Smirking in amusement, Amina turns to Maarku.
“Thank you for the escort, my Lord.”
Maarku shoots her a quick wink, earning glares from Abrar and Sahl, who notice, “Always, your Majesty.”
With a low bow, Maarku rises and walks down the long table to his assigned seat at the far end of the table. Waiting until everyone stands behind their seats and gazes up at her, Amina inhales, praying for courage.
Smiling at all, Amina tries to avoid the greenish-brown gaze that beckons her, but fails. Voice faltering slightly, Amina clears it and tries again. Damn you, Prince Maarku for making me so nervous.
“Let’s eat, shall we?” Amina calls out and takes her seat.
With that, everyone follows suit and the dinner begins with excited chatter all around her. All Amina can dream of is sitting at a much shorter table and with only one other person present. Batin, or rather, Prince Maarku. Whatever he is called. It doesn’t matter, just as long as he is there.
8
Amina had never contemplated murder before. In her ancestor’s history there had been many tales regarding the hiring of assassins to murder those who had displeased the Sheik or vice versa. Now, Amina is coming to understand why one would contemplate murdering a truly rude and annoying individual.
Dinner had long since passed and as soon as it was over, Amina was whisked away by Abrar, who claimed she had social connections to make. Following closely on their heels is his nephew, Sahl. The man-child seems to interrupt her conversations over the most ridiculous topics. For example, when the subject of politics and war with radical terrorists comes up, instead of allowing Amina to speak her mind on such issues, Sahl and Abrar both attempted to steer the conversation towards the palace’s new line of stud horses. While her father ha
d always enjoyed talking about the horses he’d raised and bred to be world class winners, Amina did not. She wishes to discuss her country and the politics surrounding it. But neither Abrar or Sahl give her the chance.
As Abrar natters on about a boring story involving his most recent art acquisition, Sahl sidles up to her side and grins widely, showing off his partially yellow teeth.
Ick.
“Have the palace gardens flourished as much as you have, Amina?” Sahl croons and licks his lips. Amina shudders in disgust and tries to suppress her dinner from regurgitating all over their shoes.
Shrugging off his pathetic compliment, Amina forces a slight smile up at Sahl, “I really couldn’t tell you, Sahl. I’ve been busy running a country.”
As if her comment is said with disappointment, Sahl clutches a hand to his chest in a show of sympathy, “You’ve been working too hard, Amina! A woman of your disposition should not be under such stress and should be allowed to relax while others take care of you and Kulaz.”
“Take care of me? Like you would take care of a dog?” Amina coolly hisses the questions, gaining the attention of others around her. Her nose twitches as the scent of musk and sandalwood envelopes her like it had the night of the masquerade. Maarku’s towering frame overshadows her and Sahl.
“Apologize.” Maarku growls with a scathing glare.
“Excuse me?” Sahl hisses, his eyes wide with a trace of shock and no doubt fear as he takes in Maarku’s tense and hard form.
“Apologize to her Majesty.” Maarku growls slowly, “Or is that too difficult for your tiny, incompetent brain to comprehend?”
Mouth gaping open and closed like a fish, Sahl’s gaze races from her and Maarku to his uncle, as if expecting Abrar to come to his rescue. Abrar, to his credit, appears just as shocked and slightly angry at the embarrassment his nephew is causing.
Amina’s heart flutters as she stares up at Maarku. With his angry expression as he glares down at Sahl, Amina is drawn to the scar that cuts into one of his eyebrows. It is much more pronounced in this light, especially with his anger tenfold. Did he still have the marks on his back from her fingernails running down it?
“Who the hell do you think you are, sir?” Sahl hisses back, his chest puffing up in fake bravado. Amina had always known Sahl to be a coward and egotistical when it came to his character. Abrar may be an advisor to the Royal Family of Kulaz, but his nephew is a proverbial no one. He only appears to be someone in his own mind.
Abrar takes that moment to appear at his nephews’ side and hisses under his breath, “Shut up, you fool.” Before he turns to Maarku and bows slightly, “This is his Royal Highness, Prince Maarku Majeed of Aman. Brother to the Sheik of Aman.”
Sahl’s eyes only widen a fraction of a bit and Maarku turns his angry gaze on Abrar, “Regardless of my name and status, Lord Advisor, your nephew has just insulted your Sheikha.”
Amina blushes and instead of watching this chaos unfold, she gazes around them. Everyone is watching and whispering. This isn’t what she wants. All she had wanted was to enjoy dinner and speak with some knowledgeable people about her country and explain what Kulaz has to offer them in the hope of gaining alliances. Her father had never networked to put their country on the economic map. Now, with the way the whispers and men surrounding her fight for her honor or to bring her down even further, her reign will not succeed.
Clearing her throat, Amina throws a frosty gaze at Abrar and Sahl, “I think that is enough, gentlemen.”
Turning her gaze on Maarku, Amina’s turns her nose up at him, “If you will excuse me. I have more important guests to entertain.”
Marching away, Amina feels Alexander immediately fall into step behind her and his low murmur of, “Take a right,” is all she needs to push past the onlookers and slip through one of the archways that leads to a private balcony.
Taking in air, Amina hugs herself as she leans against the railing of the balcony. At her back, Alexander stands, waiting a few minutes before he speaks again, “Forget them. Ignore their whispers.”
“They think I am weak,” Amina hisses through her clenched teeth, “That I let men speak for me and run my kingdom.”
“No, Mina, never,” Alexander murmurs and steps closer, his hand on her shoulder as he squeezes her in comfort. Amina had learned long ago to never accept comfort from her friend. It never ended well if they were caught, even giving each other a hug, could lead to Alexander being fired or worse. Now, it eased her worry. He couldn’t be fired. Not unless she allowed it.
Shrugging away his hand, Amina turns to stare over the horizon at the moon over the large mountain that sits above the palace. Sighing, Amina closes her eyes and breathes in the mountain air. Nothing centers her mind more than the mountain air.
“The crowning is in a few days; I wonder what other surprises I should be expecting?”
Alexander chuckles, “Where Abrar is concerned, there could be a number of things.”
9
Maarku watches from the section designated for royalty inside the official throne room of the Kulaz palace as a royal elder places the large golden crown on Amina’s head, over her hair covering. The bright red rubies sparkle and compliment her red and gold dress perfectly. The dress shapes her small figure in a way he’d never seen when she’d worn that brown outfit in the market.
It had been a few days since the welcoming dinner and Maarku had gotten nowhere with his mission. Every time he sent a request to the palace for a moment of Amina’s time, it was denied. Either by Amina herself or Abrar’s spies, he had no way of knowing.
Maarku had even paid the fabric stall owner, Adam, to keep an eye out for Amina if she left the palace in disguise, as she had when they’d first met. Shifting his gaze away from the throne, Maarku glances towards the section where non-royal guests are sitting facing the throne. Maarku’s section is on Amina’s left and her counsel and advisors were on the right. The remainder of the guests are directly in front of her in long rows.
Among the other guests, Maarku can make out Sahl Irani. If it hadn’t been for Haseem, who had swiftly pulled him away, before Maarku punched Sahl’s grimy teeth out, scandal would have broken out. Now, amongst people of his own class, Maarku can feel eyes on him.
Since his banishment from Aman and inevitably, his return to his family's good graces, Maarku had been the subject of much talk. Many believed his banishment had been because he and Khalid fought over Khalid’s first wife, whereas others speculated Maarku had stolen money from the Crown to put towards his bachelor lifestyle.
They will never know the real reason. Finding Sahl in the crowd once more, Maarku tries to control his fists from clenching tight at the sight of the sickening pig gazing up at Amina with such reverence. Though, the reverence isn’t for Amina personally, it is for the position her favor would undoubtedly grant Sahl if he successfully wins her favor.
Maarku had made inquiries of his own. Sahl Irani had been essentially kicked out of the United States due to some criminal allegations his family could no longer protect him from and now he was here in Kulaz. Vying for Amina’s favor and no doubt for her Crown. All with his uncles backing. Turning his gaze across the room, Maarku’s gaze lands on Abrar who watches Amina being blessed by an elder. It is so obvious the old man despises the idea of a female ruling over Kulaz. Amina’s fathers’ declaration that she was his heir no doubt caused much turmoil in the country. All thanks to Abrar. Haseem had mentioned his suspicions over the man’s loyalty to Kulaz a few times since the dinner.
Inwardly, Maarku knows he can form an alliance with Kulaz that would stick, he just has to push for an audience with Amina harder. Perhaps after the crowning?
Snorting to himself at the realization that her own advisors will most likely do anything to keep them apart, Maarku turns his gaze back on Amina. She is so beautiful.
As the white-robed elder bows before her and takes a step back to face the congregation present, Maarku only has eyes for Amina. He can’t help himsel
f. Her spunk and beauty speak volumes. She is not so easily tamed, much to her advisors’ displeasure. Already Maarku has noticed a few of her advisors strutting their prospective husbands beneath Amina’s nose and she denies them at every turn. Specifically, Abrar and Sahl. Both of whom Maarku detests. He had informed Haseem about the two slimy characters, though the head of Aman’s security force had only found scandal involving Sahl, not his uncle, Abrar. Yet, Maarku hums.
Finally, when the elder’s blessing is done, all stand and wait for Amina to rise. As she does, those around her gasp in amazement as her red and gold dress sparkles in the setting sun. The rubies on her crown sends reflections glittering across the room.
Amina smiles serenely down at the crowd, as a servant by the elders on the dais calls out, “Praise be to Allah and may your reign be as bountiful as the stars! Please welcome her Royal Highness, Sheikha Amina Aqila, first of her name and Royal Sovereign of Kulaz.”
People begin clapping and Maarku smirks as Amina’s smile grows. For a brief second their gazes meet before she turns back to the crowd with a bright red blush. Maarku isn’t the only one to notice her embarrassment. As he turns to scan the crowd to see if anyone catches their moment, Maarku’s gaze halts on Abrar, whose calculating glare turns suspiciously on him. Before Maarku can identify why the man’s glare turns, Abrar bows his head. The older man swiftly follows the other members of Amina’s council and advisors as they follow their Sheikha out of the throne room to the outer balcony where she greets the gathering of the capitals people.
Be careful, Maarku, a voice inwardly hisses at him. It would seem he isn’t the only one interested in Amina, on a professional and personal base. As the throne room empties, Maarku remains behind. Only a handful of people are in the room as he steps away from where he had been sitting and approaches the throne on the raised dais. The intricately designed wood and gold mixture had been in Amina’s family for centuries. Maarku had learned much from Amina’s family file. Her father’s death had given him pause as he and Haseem had gone over it in detail. While the prior Sheik had lived a long and healthy life, his sudden death of a heart attack in the middle of the night worried Maarku.