by Snihur, Erin
“I don’t know how long I can keep this act up! What else can Khalid expect? I’ve done everything he’s asked!” Maarku growls to Haseem.
Haseem hisses back, his voice lower as he glances around and Amina darts back behind the archway to keep from being seen. Beside her, Alexander glares at the stone wall, as if he can see through it towards Haseem and Maarku.
“You know what you have to do! What is stopping you? Her? Don’t tell me you’ve caught feelings? After Lis⎼”.
Maarku doesn’t let his guard finish and instead one of his crutch’s slashes through the air and almost hits the guard. Haseem’s lightning fast reflexes save him from the aluminum as both men stare at each other, their glares intensifying.
Finally, Maarku growls each word with enough fury that Amina can practically see it radiating off of his body in waves, “Don’t. Say. Her. Name.”
Amina doesn’t want to end their conversation, but she doesn’t have to. Alexander does it for her and steps into their view in the archway. Ignoring the two men, Alexander bows to her slightly and motions towards the many paths that lead into the gardens.
“This way, your Majesty,” He exclaims loudly.
Stepping into the light, Amina cringes inwardly at the looks that come over the two men staring at her in shock. Keeping her chin held high, Amina steps off the patio of the palace and onto the path. Nodding to the men, Amina keeps her expression calm and blank.
“Gentlemen,” she murmurs before ignoring them and continuing down a random path, intent on getting away unscathed. But the universe has other plans. Maarku followed her.
“Mina! Wait!” Shit, as the Americans say.
16
Shit, shit, shit, Maarku inwardly groans as he struggles along the garden path to keep up with Amina and her stoic guard.
How much had they heard? Or did they hear anything at all? Maarku inwardly wonders. If she heard any of his argument with Haseem, Maarku would be immediately sent packing back to Aman. At least Haseem has the good sense to back off. Now it is up to Maarku to clean up this mess, if it is even possible.
“Mina?” Maarku calls again and when she doesn’t even respond, though her guard sends him a guilty look before quickly turning his eyes back on Amina’s back. Maarku halts and calls again, this time his voice deeper and icier, “Your Majesty!”
Amina instantly freezes and through the tight fabric enclosed over her upper body, Maarku can make out her muscles tensing up in her shoulder blades. Taking advantage of her halted position, Maarku bites back the groan of pain as he struggles to shuffle in front of her. Ignoring her guard, Maarku finally makes his way to face the front of Amina.
Quick as a flash, Amina’s face changes from anger to calm and blank. Inwardly, Maarku curses. She must have heard something. Damn it, Haseem.
Breathing heavily from his struggles to keep up with her, Maarku smiles slightly, in an attempt to ease the anger, he can see through her silver eyes.
Bowing his head, Maarku murmurs, “Good afternoon, your Majesty.”
Silence. Shit.
Motioning around with one of his crutches, Maarku rambles on, “The palace gardens are beautiful. Would you mind joining me for a walk?”
A noise sounds from her throat and Maarku almost thinks Amina is going to smile before she composes herself and shoots a pointed look at his wrapped ankle and crutches.
“It doesn’t seem like you can keep up, Prince Maarku,” Amina haughtily replies and Maarku visibly flinches at her use of his official title.
“Oh, I can keep up. Never doubt my stamina when it comes to you,” Maarku responds back and though he hadn’t meant his words to have a double meaning, he enjoys the blush that appears on Amina’s face and travels down her neck. What I wouldn’t give to follow that color, Maarku inwardly lusts and it takes all of his willpower to tamp down that lust. He is only wearing loose pants and a soft, short-sleeved shirt. No need to frighten Amina at the sight of his cock making itself known.
Watching her purse her lips as she contemplates his words, she then sends a nod over her shoulder to her guard who pointedly takes a few steps back. Deep down, Maarku is thankful for the guard backing off. He needs to explain, but doesn’t wish for this man to know his own darkest secrets.
Trying to hold out his arm to Amina, Maarku struggles before her palm raises up, halting him. A slight smile playing along her lips, Amina mutters, “I think you better focus on keeping up then on being chivalrous.”
Laughing, Maarku nods and begins following her along at her side, though they are definitely walking at a slower speed. Thankful, Maarku chances a glance around the gardens.
“Your gardens are truly breathtaking, your Majesty,” Maarku begins, though her suspicious tilt of her head in his direction and narrowing of her silver eyes have him halting his speech.
“I think we can dispense with the pleasantries, Maarku. Don’t you think?” Amina quietly suggests.
In his mind, Maarku’s thoughts drift to their kiss. The explosion of her taste and pleasure was enough for Maarku to feel his cock hardening and in an effort to keep from embarrassing her, he hobbled ahead of her.
“Of course, Amina,” he finally said over his shoulder at the sound of her sandaled feet catching up to him.
Stopping at a fork in the path, Maarku turns to Amina, “Which way would you like to go, your Maj⎼ I mean, Amina?”
Motioning to the left where the gardens sit towards the back walls of the palace and are shaded by tall willow trees, Maarku sighs in relief at the sight of marble benches. What he doesn’t see immediately as they move closer and closer to the benches are the headstones carved out of white marble planted into the rich mountainside soil. Stopping in stunned silence, Maarku watches as Amina gracefully glides forward and carefully steps onto the grass. Pressing her hand to her lips, she places the fingers on the first headstone and then the second.
Swallowing the guilt that overcomes him for intruding on her private moment, Maarku collapses quietly as he could onto the marble bench sitting across from the headstones. Setting his crutches aside, Maarku watches as the normally prideful and confident young woman seems to break her resolve and trembles slightly in the presence of the headstones.
Faintly, Maarku can make out of her muffled words as she caresses the top of one of the two headstones.
“Why did you pick me… I’m making a mess of everything…” she faintly whispers before the rest of her words disappear into the blowing wind.
The only writing carved into solid stone, is the Arabic word for father and the other holds only the Arabic word for mother. Amina pauses in her muffled speech for a moment before finally planting a kiss on her hand and then the two headstones. Rising to stand, she brushes away the grass and dirt that might linger on her long dress. Even sitting in the dirt, she is a vision to behold. It wouldn’t matter what she wore, Maarku would always feel a tightening in his chest and cock at the sight of Amina and her silver eyes.
Half-expecting Amina to march away and leave him sitting her, Maarku’s eyes widen slightly as she takes a seat next to him on the marble bench. Both staring at the headstones, Maarku finally sighs, though it doesn’t seem to have affected her as she continues to stare at the immobile stones.
“I shouldn’t have insisted on accompanying you,” Maarku mumbles, his tone apologetic.
Voice soft and yet, filled with unreleased emotion, Amina tilts her head, keeping her gaze on the headstones, “You couldn’t have known this was where I was headed.”
“Yes, but you shouldn’t have to mourn with an audience,” Maarku mutters back and scans the area for her guard. The mysterious man is not in sight, but Maarku can still feel the powerful man’s gaze on them. From where he isn’t sure.
“I have been mourning with an audience since the day my mother died, Batin,” Amina snaps back and then tenses, probably revealing a piece of herself that she hadn’t meant to, all the while calling him a name that he’d regretted telling her since that night on the p
alace balcony.
Not wanting to lose her to the silence of the garden, Maarku asks, “When did she pass away?” Maarku had read the file Haseem had prepared for their trip, but he wanted to hear it from her.
“When I was ten. She miscarried and they couldn’t stem the bleeding. It was awful,” Amina whispers back and continues as if in a daze, “I can still hear her screams of pain at night sometimes. At the time, none of the doctors or servants would tell me what was going on. Then the screaming stopped and the next morning father came to me and told me my mother had died.”
Her tears didn’t fall, though Maarku could make out the emotion in her eyes as her bottom lip trembles and she struggles to calm her breathing.
“She was a very strong woman,” Amina mutters, “The doctors told her that after me she should never have children again, for fear of the impact on her body. But she wanted to give my father a son.”
Shaking her head, Amina stands suddenly and begins pacing in front of the headstones, her silver eyes flashing.
“Wasn’t I good enough?” She hisses at the silent headstones, “Father seemed to think so! I mean here I am ruling this country with no support from my council. Their greedy hands just waiting for me to fail so that they can swoop in and dethrone me!”
Kicking a pebble, Amina continues her tirade, clearly needing to get things off her chest, “I mean, couldn’t you have been happy with me? I was a good daughter! Father said so all the time! Why else would he have taught me so much? Why else would he have named me his heir?”
“Amina⎼,” Maarku begins but before she can continue, Amina spins around, her dress spinning with her, showing off her dainty ankles and her silvery glare intent on him.
“No! Don’t even try to fix this, Maarku! You don’t understand what it’s like to go through life being a girl in a man’s world where your opinion is looked down upon and the moment you achieve even one small semblance of power, the men do everything in their plethora of power to steal yours back! I’m basically a spare in my councils’ eyes. Not the leader they wanted, but it’s the only one they have until they marry her off and keep her locked up as a baby machine!” She rants, her breathing heavy as her chest rises and falls erratically.
Raising his hands in peace, Maarku shakes his head, “Granted, I don’t know anything about growing up as a woman in a man's world, but I do know what it’s like to grow up as the quintessential spare.”
17
Amina deep within knows Maarku speaks the truth. As the second born son of a Sheik, he is the quintessential desired spare all royals wish for. An heir and a spare, as the saying goes. Whereas in Amina’s case she is the heir and the spare.
Shoulders drooping, Amina collapses back onto the marble bench at Maarku’s side as he continues his speech and grits his teeth at the mention of his father, “My father was not a kind man as yours was. I didn’t notice how deep his greed grew until Khalid and I were old enough to begin school. Instead of us both being tutored at the same time despite our year difference in age, our father had Khalid sent to the best of the best boarding schools. He ensured Khalid had the best education, whereas mine was mediocre and everything I learned, I had to teach myself or else you can bet my father wouldn’t allow me to learn it.”
Chuckling, Maarku shakes his head and leans on his elbows while looking at his fidgeting hands and slightly raised ankle, “One time, I snuck into his private library to read a few books on finance I’d seen him reading at the dinner table once. I was just trying to read something that I could impress him with, that way he’d at least acknowledge me. Instead, a servant caught me going through the books and brought me to my father. I received five lashes to the back for entering my father’s private study and informed that as a spare, I am basically useless, until required.”
Gasping at the thought of Maarku enduring such cruelty, Amina’s hand moves instinctively to his forearm and squeezes the hard muscle there reassuringly.
Continuing, Maarku turns his head and gazes into her eyes, “You are not a spare, Amina. You are the heir. Don’t let those prissy pricks in their robes tell you how to rule your country. If they don’t like it, they can defect and seek asylum elsewhere.”
Teasingly, he adds, “I hear Siberia is nice this time of year.”
Not able to stop it, a giggle burst forth from her lips and she quickly tries to cover it up with her hand. Waving her hand in the air, Amina turns her gaze back to her parent’s headstones and sighs, “I wonder if he knew what I would have to deal with when he made the decision to raise me as his heir? Did he expect I would marry right away? Or did he think I could actually rule without a man.”
“You can do anything you set your mind to,” Maarku murmurs back and teases, “After all, you almost physically fought me for a piece of fabric in the market. Imagine how you will fight for your people?”
Blushing, Amina shakes her head in disappointment, “They want me to marry. To name my husband as Sheik. They don’t even want me to try and bring Kulaz into the twenty-first century. Can you imagine how stagnant our people will become if I just roll over and allow another man to rule?”
Snorting, Maarku mutters softly, “Sounds like you need better advisors.”
Laughing tonelessly, Amina waves her hand in the air to the open space of the gardens, “Where shall I find these better advisors? Especially one who will take orders from a woman.”
Amina jumps in place as Maarku bounces up out of his seat, his ankle making him limp slightly from where he stands before her. Attempting to bow before her, Maarku grins, though his balance is atrocious as his grin widens.
“I’ll do it.”
Gasping, Amina’s mind races, “What?” Instantly, her thoughts drift to what she had heard in the gardens before their walk. Maarku is here for a mission. But what is it?
“I’ll be your advisor.”
Another voice in her mind hisses, by keeping him close as an advisor, you can find out!
While another dreamily sighs, plus he’s so handsome and our toes curl every time we think about that night. Wanting to slap herself to keep those thoughts hidden, Amina’s words stutter as she asks, “But why?”
Tilting his head, Maarku shrugs, “You need someone to help you drag Kulaz into the twenty-first century and I’m your guy. I have no problem taking orders from a woman.”
Leaning down slightly so their faces are only a breath away, Maarku huskily murmurs, “In fact, I find I enjoy obeying your orders, Sheikha. Almost as much as I think you enjoy obeying mine.”
Beneath her skin, Amina’s bones and core alight with fire and turn to jelly at the way his voice drawls her title. Face turning red at his words and her thoughts, Amina whispers back.
“How can I possibly trust you?”
Before he can answer, a loud, haughty voice calls out, “Amina! There you are!”
Instantly, as if appearing out of nowhere, Alexander steps onto the path from his hiding spot among the willows and blocks the shifty-eyed interloper. Sahl Irani.
Blocked by her guard, Amina watches in amusement as the annoying man tries to go around Alexander and instead stops short when Alexander follows and continues to block the man.
“See here, sir, you are blocking the way!” Sahl cries out indignantly and tries to see around Alexander, probably to gain her help in pushing past her guard.
Maarku instantly stiffens and mutters a curse under his breath to which Amina ignores and stands, holding out his crutches.
“You don’t want to forget these,” Amina murmurs to the Prince and then teasingly adds, “Especially if you need to use them as weapons again.”
Maarku grunts wordlessly in agreement. when Sahl’s whiny voice once again calls from his spot in front of Alexander, Maarku curses again.
“He certainly knows how to ruin a moment of privacy,” Maarku finally comments as they slowly make their way down the path towards where Alexander wordless blocks Sahl.
Finally seeing Amina through the opening in Alexa
nder’s arm, Sahl seems to visibly sneer at the sight of Maarku at her side.
“Your Majesty!” Sahl cries and motions to Alexander, “Could you please have your big ape move aside. I am hardly a security threat.”
Gazing around as a flock of birds startle away at the sound of Sahls screeching, Amina laughs and nods to Sahl, “I think you are a threat to the wildlife in our gardens, sir. Perhaps if you adjust the volume of your voice, Alexander will consider moving aside.”
For her ears only, Maarku growls, “Adjust it to silence if possible.”
Stifling her laughter, Amina shoots Alexander an amused look as he gazes at them over his shoulder, “Let Mr. Irani pass, Alexander.”
Nodding his assent, Alexander steps to the side, his wide frame not small enough for Sahl to pass him straight on and instead, the smaller man has to turn his body to the side to slide pass. Sahl’s red face glares pointedly at Alexander before his eyes find hers and Amina forces herself to smile kindly at the man Abrar wishes her to become re-acquainted with.
Remembering Maarku as Sahl eyes the man in crutches suspiciously, Amina is about to make an excuse as to his presence when Maarku speaks up. His voice clear and cold.
“Have you come to pay your respects to the late Sheik and Sheikha, Mr. Irani?”
Shivering at the use of his tone, Amina watches as Sahl visibly seems to shrink before his chest puffs up as his chin lifts higher in the air, pompous nose with it.
“I have already done so, sir. I attended their funerals after all. Our families are quite close. Isn’t that right, Amina?” Sahl’s grin grows as he glares at Maarku with glee. As if by knowing her and her family when he was a child somehow makes him better than Maarku.
“You haven’t learned any manners since we last met, have you Sahl?” Maarku growls and though he is still depending on crutches, his intimidating lumber forward is enough for Sahl to take a fearful step back and Alexander to move forward so Sahl backs into his chest. Jumping away from her guard, Sahl’s eyes angrily spin to Amina.