Marguerite Kaye - Hot Arabian Nights

‘You have decided to stay?’

He swallowed hard. ‘I have no choice.’

She listened as he recounted his interview with Kamal, biting back indignant exclamations, while a deep, burning anger at the weak, selfish, unworthy man who called himself Azhar’s brother grew inexorably.

‘He was completely unrepentant,’ Azhar finished. ‘He seemed to think that the diamonds were some sort of legitimate compensation for his regency.’

‘How do you intend to deal with him?’

Azhar shook his head dejectedly. ‘It will bring shame and dishonour to our royal name if I publicly accuse him, and shame and dishonour upon myself if I do not.’

‘I don’t know what to say. I can’t even begin to imagine how you must feel.’

‘You are the only person on this earth who can,’ Azhar replied with a ghost of a smile. ‘No one knows me as you do. You know what a poisoned chalice the crown of Qaryma will be to me. You, and only you, understand what it will cost me.’

‘Oh, Azhar, I wish with all my heart that you did not have to do this. If there was any other way...’ Julia stopped, her voice clogged with tears.

‘Don’t cry, I beg you. It had to be done and cannot be undone.’

‘Then I shall not cry,’ she said with a sniff and a faltering smile. ‘To learn that your father actually kept track of your whereabouts—that he was proud of you—that at least, is one positive thing to emerge from this, is it not?’

‘Another poisoned chalice. If I am completely honest, I am not at all sure that I would have responded to that first summons, had Kamal actually sent it,’ Azhar said, looking troubled. ‘It would have been my opportunity to make my peace with my father, but I fear I would have seen the price as too high to pay, Julia, suspecting that if I came back I would not be capable of leaving a second time. A suspicion that I have just now managed to prove was well founded. But I deeply regret that I did not make my peace with my father.’

‘You cannot bear the sole burden of guilt,’ Julia said decidedly. ‘Your father waited nine years before extending the olive branch, and even then he did it only because he fell ill. Nine years which have served to make you the man you are, and that man will be a better ruler for the experience.’

‘Thank you,’ Azhar said, kissing her hand. ‘I know you say these things only to ease my guilt, but I appreciate the sentiments.’

‘I say these things because they are true. And the most important truth of all is that it is the—the essence of you, the man in here,’ she said, laying her hand over his heart, ‘the honourable man who can give nothing less than his all, whether it is to his business or his country, that’s what makes you the best King Qaryma will ever have.’

‘And now I have made you cry again.’

Julia shook her head. ‘I’m not—it is not you. I wish—oh, Azhar, I wish there was something I could do to help you.’

He brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb. His eyes were dark, still troubled. ‘Do you mean that?’

The way he looked at her made icy fingers of fear clutch at her heart. ‘What do you require of me?’

Azhar got to his feet, clasping his hands behind his back, looking out over the parapet at the desert. ‘If I am to do this, if I am to wear the crown, then it is best that I do so as soon as possible. From now on, my time will not be my own—I cannot afford to be distracted, Julia.’

Her heart plummeted. ‘I see,’ she said, trying to keep the disappointment and sense of rejection from her voice. She knew she had no right to feel that way but there it was regardless.

‘No, you don’t.’ Azhar caught her as she made to turn away from him. ‘These last few weeks, the precious time we have spent together has been the only ray of sunshine in what has been a torrid experience. I have come to greatly value your judgement, to rely on being able to talk matters over with you, knowing that you will always be honest with me, no matter what the cost. A rarity for a man in my position, believe me, since no one dares challenge my judgement.’

‘You will be Sheikh al-Farid, King Azhar of Qaryma,’ Julia intoned, quoting the words he had once recited from the coronation. ‘You will be the font of all wisdom, the provider of all happiness. The infallible one, whom none may question. Do I have that right?’

‘Almost word perfect,’ Azhar said. ‘Unfortunately,’ he added with a twisted smile. ‘Which means that our spending time together must come to a halt. I must start as I mean to go on Julia—alone. My decisions must be my own, and my desire for you—you know how strongly I desire you—but it can have no place in my life now either. I must dedicate myself to my kingdom. When they place the crown on my head, I will belong to Qaryma. And I plan to be crowned as soon as it can be arranged.’

‘Are you afraid that if you delay, you might not go through with it?’

He flinched, for her tone was sharp, but he met her gaze openly. ‘Yes.’

The simple admission broke down all her defences. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t bear to make things more difficult for you. I will do whatever you ask.’

The relief which flooded his face was her reward. He pulled her into his arms, kissing her gently. ‘I ask only that you understand.’

‘I do.’

‘Thank you.’ He kissed her again. ‘You will use the extra time usefully, I hope?’

‘I—yes. Johara told me of an oasis where there is a unique kind of moss, I had hoped—but it is not necessary. I have more than enough to occupy my last—the time I have remaining here, thank you.’ Was this the end? Was he expecting her to say goodbye? No, she could not believe it, there were arrangements to be made, a guide to hire—no, she would not allow herself to think that this was the last time she would see him. Utterly dejected, Julia cast around for her drawing equipment. ‘I wanted to paint this secret garden, but if you are going to be in residence at the Royal Kiosk...’

‘I will have someone inform you when the garden is unoccupied so you may work undisturbed.’

She could feel the tears welling. She would not allow them to fall. Muttering another thank you, Julia picked up her painting box and fled.

* * *

Julia set down her paintbrush and studied the two landscapes critically. In the three days since she had last seen Azhar, she had been working on them almost exclusively. The light was not yet perfectly captured in the seascape, but she was pleased with the mood.

Aisha, setting the dinner tray down on the table, studied the almost-finished works. ‘These are beautiful. This is your home?’ she asked. ‘I have never seen the sea. It is vast and so beautiful.’

Julia nodded. ‘Much as your desert is for me.’ She had always considered Marazion Bay her home, though she had not lived there since she married Daniel. The house she had shared with her husband near Truro, leased from an acquaintance of her father’s, would be occupied by someone else by now. After the funeral, Julia had boxed up their few possessions and had them placed in storage at her father’s house. He had assumed that she would come to live with him when she returned from her supposed visit to the Highlands.

Julia had no idea what she was going to do with her freedom once she attained it. She had not thought beyond fulfilling her promises to Daniel, but those would take her perhaps three, at the most six months more to execute. Her work here in Arabia was already completed. Now that she had finished the landscapes for Azhar, she intended to spend what time remained painting the pictures which would become her own personal mementos of her momentous time here.

Aisha had finished setting out the dainty array of dishes on the table. ‘Prince Azhar is very busy preparing for his coronation,’ she said.