by Snihur, Erin
“Are you going to allow these men to treat me this way, Amina? I thought we had come to an understanding?” Sahl cries out.
Freezing in place, Amina’s eyes squint as she stares into the weasel man’s face, “What understanding is that?”
“My Uncle informed me that you wished for me to escort you during the trip to the mineral hot springs. You had planned to show these pools to your many guests. Was my Uncle wrong?” Sahl preened, sticking his nose in the air as he adjusts his silk shirt and runs a hand atop his oily hair.
Inwardly, Amina curses. Abrar had said her presence was requested for their guests trip up the mountains to the mineral hot springs. She hadn’t known that meant she had agreed to more of Sahl’s presence. Not knowing a way to get out of it, Amina sighs and is about to agree when Maarku interrupts once again.
“I believe Abrar is incorrect. I am escorting her Majesty to the pools,” Maarku murmurs, his gaze on hers.
Snorting, Sahl doesn’t seem to think as he hisses to Maarku, “You weren’t invited.”
Ears perking up at Sahl’s comment, Amina quickly straightens her shoulders and haughtily responds with, “He is my guest. And they are my mineral hot springs.”
Sputtering, Sahl’s eyes widen and move from Maarku to Amina, “But… but, your Majesty, there isn’t enough room in the vehicles for him. Besides, he’s injured.”
Shrugging, Amina hums to herself as she pretends to ponder the situation before smiling at both men, “Then I guess the Prince will just have to travel in my vehicle. As my escort, of course. And I believe we can procure a wheelchair for him. If that’s alright?”
18
Abrar Irani is furious. More than furious. Incandescent. If he could, he would strangle that no good nephew of his. Marching over to his nephew, Sahl, who stands by the refreshment table the servants are in the middle of setting up on a little veranda set aside from the paths that lead to the mineral pools, Abrar fumes.
Abrar’s skin crawls at the sound that bitch, her Majesty, Sheikha Amina, as she laughs and tells stories to her guests about the wonderful mineral pools, they will all enjoy during the afternoon of relaxation and leisure. Cursing under his breath causes a few guests to turn and gaze at him in alarm, but Abrar bows slightly and continues his march towards Sahl.
Grabbing the idiotic man by the forearm, Abrar doesn’t let go until they are completely hidden behind a flowery bush.
“Uncle!” Sahl cries and clutches his forearm as his face contorts in pain. Weak man. No wonder the American authorities kicked him out.
“You imbecile!” Abrar hisses and smacks his nephew against the side of his head, “Why is Prince Maarku here?”
It had taken all of Abrar’s control not to throw a tantrum the moment Sheikha Amina emerged from her personal SUV with the Prince of Aman. The man who, with the right incentive, could ruin all of the plans Abrar had in place. Since the Prince and all of the Sheikha’s guests had arrived to the mineral pools, the Prince had remained a permanent fixture by Amina’s side. Not really partaking in the conversation and only offering his two cents when asked by Amina. There was even a moment where Amina was involved in a heated discussion of politics with the Armenian ambassador that the Prince advised Amina on how Kulaz should proceed and assisted in building a foundation of trust with the Armenian ambassador.
Abrar had watched all of this from the shadows. And Amina is taking the Princes’ attention in like a sponge takes to water. Foolish girl. This playboy prince has taken the wool right out from under your eyes. Like a common harlot you throw yourself at the wolf's feet.
Clenching his fists, Abrar takes in a deep breath and blows it out of his nose as he gazes at his nephew. Noting Sahl’s fearful and worried expression, Abrar asks again.
“Why is he here?”
Stammering and fidgeting with his fingers as he peers over his shoulder at the sound of another of Amina’s twinkling snicker, Sahl turns back to Abrar and shrugs sheepishly.
“She demanded he attend. And escort her, to top it all off,” Sahl explains before cringing at his words before speaking them, “I don’t think your plan is working, Uncle. Perhaps we should just accept the fact that Amina is Sheikha of Kulaz.”
Face red as the sun, Abrar snarls and smacks Sahl on the other side of the head before stalking a few feet away and begins pacing further, “We can’t allow her to remain on the throne for much longer. Soon she will turn twenty-five and then my plans will go down in ruin.”
“I still don’t quite understand the plan, Uncle,” Sahl mumbles as he presses his own hand to the side of his face that burns bright red from Abrar’s slap.
Scoffing, Abrar straightens his silk shirt and hair before sneering at his dimwitted nephew, “Of course you don’t. Amina’s father was a smart man. He knew many would be vying for his throne and daughter like vipers. So, if she were crowned and remained unmarried by the time of her twenty-fifth birthday, Kulaz would be hers absolute and she is free to rule without the need for a husband or Sheik to rule in her stead.”
“That’s only a few months away,” Sahl whispers and turns his head back to where Amina sits with a group of guests and most importantly, the Prince of Aman.
“Does Amina know of this?” Sahl asks thoughtlessly.
“No,” Abrar growls, “The moment I received a copy of what the Sheik signed by the royal solicitors, I’ve been searching for the original document ever since. If I can find it, I can burn it and ensure her Majesty marries a man of my choosing. And soon. The quicker we bring her to heel the better.”
Snorting, Sahl shrugs, “She will never marry me. She thinks too highly of that Prince.”
Face morphing into an evil smirk, Abrar notices a large SUV arriving up the mountain, “Then we shall ensure she begins to see him for who he truly is.”
Everything shall fall into place or else the young Sheikha may find herself in a grave like her father.
* * *
Amina had never been so grateful to another man other than her father and Alexander before. As her guests begin the trek up some of the short paths to the mineral pools, Amina hung back as Maarku collapsed into a wheelchair her servants had brought for them.
Waiting until her guests were far enough away, Amina smiles down at Maarku, “Thank you for your advice today.”
Shrugging, Maarku’s smile grows, “You didn’t really need it. I am impressed with the way you handled your guests. You even managed to steer some of the more volatile guests away from one another. Very impressive for one so young.”
“And a woman?” Amina wonders in a teasing voice, though inwardly, she prays he can see beyond her gender.
Shrugging again, Maarku grins, taking her bait, “Gender has nothing to do with political awareness, Amina. You are a natural. You and my brother would get along very well. I think his wife would like you as well. Though she hates to talk about as much politics as Khalid does. Amelia prefers charities that center around the impoverished and children.
Chuckling as he recalls his brother and his sister-in-law, Maarku winks at Amina, “She also enjoys spending my brother’s money on such activities as well.”
Nodding, Amina waits as Haseem arrives behind Maarku to push him along the paths. No longer is Maarku’s guard angry or red-faced. Instead, he is stoic and calm. Though his gaze never lingers over her. Amina still wonders what Maarku’s brother expects him to accomplish on their mission to Kulaz.
The afternoon had passed so enjoyably that Amina had completely forgotten about the argument Maarku and Haseem had been caught having. Now, it pushes its way to the forefront of her mind.
Trying to think of something to respond with, Amina shrugs and motions around, “The pools melt off the mountains ice caps and according to legend were once used to heal ailments for many ancient tribes. In fact, the first people to settle here used to force anyone who used the pools to pay a fee.”
“And now?” Maarku asks.
Shrugging, Amina gazes around. Though the bare set
ting had been set up rather quickly for an impromptu refreshment stand and relaxed outdoor seating for her guests, once their day was over it would remain empty.
“They aren’t used as much. My mother used to bathe here every holy day. She claimed it was a way for her to wash away the past and begin anew,” Amina sighs, her mind drifting off to the blurry childlike image she still had of her mother. Yes, there were paintings and old photographs, but it is as if looking at a known stranger. Familiar, yet distant.
A warm hand touches the palm of her own and Amina stares down at her hand as Maarku takes it and squeezes lightly. Turning her gaze up slightly, while still looking down at him in the chair as they stop along the path, Amina blushes.
“I would like it if we could start anew,” Maarku begins and with a motion to Haseem who backs up to give them privacy, continues his murmuring as his thumb races along the pulse of her wrist.
“I don’t know what we have, Amina, but I can’t seem to get you out of my head and after that night together I…”
Before he can continue, a shrill accented voice is calling out Maarku’s name behind them. Behind them, Haseem steps to the side and Amina faintly hears Maarku suck in a gasp of shock before muttering a string of unfamiliar curses. Maarku’s hand falls away from hers as he turns the wheelchair around fully to take in the spectacle behind them.
A tall, elegant looking woman in a dark, red dress and high heels sashays up the path, waving her pale hand excitedly at them.
“Maarkie!” the woman screeches and in the last few feet, encloses the distance with a run and crashes into Maarku who struggles to stand from the wheelchair. Only barely bracing them both, Maarku limps and struggles to stand on one foot as the pale, blonde haired woman in the red dress murmurs to Maarku and begins planting her lips all along his cheeks and lips, leaving red lipstick marks as she does.
Eyes wide at the spectacle, Amina watches as Maarku tries to extract himself from the woman, but not too fast, much to her displeasure. Turning her accusing glare on Haseem, the stoic guard seems just as confused and shocked as he shrugs. Shifting her gaze back to Maarku, Amina has had enough as the woman’s red painted nails run through his dark hair, messing the perfect tousled curls up.
Fists clenched at her side, Amina clears her throat loudly, gaining Maarku’s attention as he finally manages to pull his own lips away from the woman and pushes her back by her shoulders. It is only then that Amina is able to understand the woman’s furtive and whispered words. French. Of course, Amina snorts. Maarku seems the type to enjoy tall, beautifully skinny French women.
Forcing a smile on her face that probably doesn’t do anything to conceal her grimace of disgust, Amina tilts her head as the woman attempts to right her own hair and dress.
“Oh, excusez-moi, miss,” the woman’s sultry voice answers and she playfully sidles back up to Maarku and runs a red nail down his chest, “I do apologize for the scene. Très désolée. It is just, I haven’t seen my fiancé in so long.”
Eyes widening, Amina shifts her gaze away from the woman’s icy blue eyes and land on Maarku, who is now glaring at the woman and wiping the red lipstick off his face.
“Fiance?” Amina asks, incredulous.
“Fiance!” Maarku mirrors her and shouts as he stumbles back into his wheelchair, his ankle giving out.
The woman, Maarku’s supposed fiancé, kneels down and gently pats his ankle, “Yes, my love. I’m here now! When I heard about your accident, I got on the first plane here from Paris. Why, I missed the rest of the fashion week, but I don’t care. As long as you’re well and we are together.”
Mouth opening and closing in confusion, Amina takes a step back and nods to the woman. Back straightening, Amina tries to scratch together enough of her pride before all is lost, “Well, congratulations, my Lord and Miss…”
“Lisette Harpier. You may have heard of me; I am a model in Paris. Mostly big-name brands,” Lisette fluffs her hair and seems to forget about Maarku and his ankle as she drops her hold on him and holds her hand out to Amina. Her blue eyes flash as she croons the icy question, “And you are?”
Behind her, Abrar seems to appear out of nowhere as his stuffy and sneer filled face waves Lisette’s hand away from Amina’s person, “Young lady, you are standing in the presence of her Royal Majesty, Sheikha Amina Aqila, Queen and Ruler of Kulaz.”
Amina can recognize the way the woman’s blue eyes only emblazon further as she takes Amina in from head to toe before giving a haughty bow, “Well, Maarku certainly has been keeping impeccable company in my absence.”
Ignoring the jab, Amina lifts her chin and smiles, “Yes. Well, I should see to my other guests and allow you two to catch up, after being apart for so long.”
“Amina…” Maarku begins, but when the presence of Alexander makes himself known, his voice trails off.
Not wanting to make eye contact with Maarku and embarrass herself further, Amina blindly takes the first hand offered, which happens to Abrar’s, and allows her advisor to escort her up the path towards the steaming mineral baths.
At her side, Abrar’s clucking tongue can be heard as he pats her hand in a fatherly gesture before whispering, “I’m so sorry, your Majesty. I tried to warn you about men like the Prince.”
Heart shattering over his words, Amina nods and forces her tears to keep from running down her cheeks as she answers through gasping breath, “You did, Abrar. And I thank you for the advice.”
I shall not forget it.
19
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Maarku snarls at the one woman he’d rather die before ever seeing again.
Lisette hasn’t changed much in the past year. Her hair is still that fake platinum blonde he remembered her coloring it to while they had been together. Her high cheekbones, something he’d paid for during their relationship, are another thing that has changed. Now, they were more pronounced and her shape has changed to sicklier thin than healthy thin.
Maarku can still remember the moment he got down on one knee, opened up his heart and proposed to the woman he thought loved him for him. Not the rich version of him. How wrong Maarku had been. Instead, she’d laughed in his face and left him. No doubt for someone with money who wasn’t in exile from his family.
Shrugging her angular shoulders, Lisette smiles and practically blinds him with her bleached teeth, “I thought you’d be happy to see me, mon amour?”
Behind them, Maarku can make out Haseem as he glares at the woman and instantly knows his brothers guard has no clue what is happening.
Sighing in frustration, Maarku runs his hands through his hair, cringing at the memory of Lisette kissing him. Amina had seen. She’d seen it all. And she’d been horrified. If only he’d been able to tell her that in that moment, kissing Lisette was like kissing a dead fish. Cold. Whereas, with Amina it had felt as though his entire body was on fire.
“How did you know I was here, Lisette?” Maarku asks, ignoring her words.
Laughing shrilly, Lisette swings her name brand handbag over her shoulder and waves away an annoying fly before sneering at their destination, “Please don’t tell me we are to live outside like animals while visiting this barbaric place.”
“You aren’t staying! You weren’t even invited! How did you know I was here?” Maarku snarls.
Shrugging, Lisette’s eyes flash as she squints, “I saw you in the paper in London. You were with that little mouse of a Queen at some dinner and I thought you could use my experience here.”
Clenching his fists tightly, Maarku shakes his head, “We aren’t a couple! And we aren’t even engaged? Remember? What makes you think I’d ever want you here with me?”
Fluffing her hair, Lisette rolls her eyes at him, as if he’s being overly dramatic, as she snidely remarks, “And whose fault is that?”
Sputtering in shock, Maarku snarls as his glare intensifies and his head pounds harder than it had when he’d first awoken from his accident.
“Yours!” He coolly exp
lains, “You left me, remember?”
Scoffing, Lisette waves her hand in the air, as if batting him away like a fly, “You were destitute. What could I do?”
Maarku glares at the woman in stunned silence. She was so arrogantly full of herself and her own greed that she would never believe the truth of their relationship. Looking at the woman he recalled as being his first love, Maarku only sees the ugly that remains. Compared to Amina, Lisette is nothing. Strip away Amina’s riches or her crown and she is still ten times the woman Lisette could ever hope to be.
Snapping his fingers at Haseem who silently stands watch, Maarku enjoys the gleam of confusion and fear in Lisette’s eyes as the large man approaches.
“Haseem here will put you on the next flight to Paris,” Maarku explains and with an icy glare, unleashes the brake on his wheelchair and begins gliding slowly back down the path, “And have a car pulled around for me. I’m returning to the hotel.”
As Haseem does Maarku’s bidding, he ignores Lisette’s protests as they quickly turn from fake tears to raging insults and slurs in both English and French. Stopping before an awaiting car, Maarku takes one last glance up the paths where Amina is no doubt enjoying the hot springs with her guests.
Clenching his fists tightly, Maarku shakes his head and slowly rises up on one foot to slide into the car’s backseat.
I’m so sorry, Mina. When will I learn not to screw things up?
* * *
“He’s at a hotel? And packing to go where?” Amina questions Alexander, who stands at the entrance of her bedchambers. Sitting at her mirrored vanity while her maid braids her hair down her back for the night, Amina stares at herself for the first time since their return from the hot springs. She hadn’t been able to face her guests at dinner. Feigning a headache had been easy. In truth, she hadn’t wanted to face Maarku and Lisette. She hadn’t wanted to see him happy with her.