Desert Sheikh vs American Princess (29 page)

"You." Kalilah's eyes glowed with dark fire. "There would have to be some hair-pulling, of course, but only for the cameras. That would nail the deal. The sheikh's ex-wife versus his ex-mistress. The world would eat it up. Think of what we could do."

Noelle shook off the younger woman's hands. "I am thinking about it. I'd have my own money, my independence. I'd never have to see my father again."

Kalilah reached into the shiny clutch she'd set on the little table beside the chair, and drew out a phone in a sequined pink case that didn't look like it should belong to a queen. "Let me make a call--"

"Stop. Shut up. Let me enjoy the fantasy for a second," Noelle ordered, and she closed her eyes to block everything out but the pictures flashing through her head. Her, followed by cameras, walking into Elise's store to shoot a scene that would mean thousands of dollars in sales. Her, making calls to organize charity events. Her, sponsoring a small center for girls who wanted to start their own businesses. Would the show be interested in her adventures on campus if she went back to college? Of course they would. The boys. The parties. The sorority sister hijinks.

The hair-pulling. Oh, God, the hair-pulling.

Noelle opened her eyes to see Kalilah, tense and expectant, trying to stare right through her skin to see her intentions underneath.

Thinking about Kalilah with Walid had once made Noelle want to bitch-slap the girl. She could have that chance, if she wanted it.

This was Noelle's moment. All she had to do was say yes, and she'd have everything she ever wanted. She'd have her independence, a job, she'd have people supporting her, and a purpose.

"You're offering me something unbelievable, Kalilah. Thank you. I've wanted my freedom forever, and you hand it to me on a silver platter--"

"Yay!" said Kalilah, and grabbed for the phone.

Noelle clamped her hand around the younger woman's wrist, just inches away from the touchscreen. "It's too expensive, Kalilah. I have to say no. I'll find another way to get out of my father's house. Even if I have to use that chainsaw."

"Chainsaw?" Kalilah screwed up her pert nose for a second--and then her face became a mask of panic. "You will not tell Walid, will you? If he cancels the wedding--"

She laughed. "It wouldn't make any difference to him. Now get out. I have a plane to catch."

Eleven

W
ALID
'
S
SISTER
-
IN
-law, Gwendolyn Spenser-Al Kalam, tapped the toe of her insanely high heels and scowled at him with the gale force of a tsunami.

"Welcome back to Askar,
ukhti al-sagheera
. It is always pleasant to see you." He took Gwendolyn's hand and kissed the back of it in formal Western style before she could object.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, not bothering with a greeting.

"Greeting my beloved little sister," he said. "And irritating her husband." He might be at peace with his brother, but that did not mean he did not enjoy baiting Ithnan from time to time.

The highest level of Askari society was in attendance for the engagement ceremony. At least the several dozen or so of them who happened to be in the country to attend on the very short notice of a single day.

It had been a simple matter for his assistant to hire the musicians and let Suzette know she was to serve hors d'oeuvres for one hundred or so. A pair of officiants were acquired to pronounce blessings from two different religions, and it was done.

And, amidst the designer gowns and free-flowing champagne, he felt as if everything in his life was sliding into a deep morass.

Gwen dropped her voice well below the sound level of the string quartet playing pleasant background music for the party. "That's not what I'm talking about. Your new bride."

He thought about asking her to put a verb in that last sentence, but did not bother. He knew her concerns. He shared them. He simply did not want to share those concerns with Gwendolyn's husband.

Ithnan stood across the room, chatting with some elders in traditional robes, one hand in the pocket of his tuxedo, the other wrapped around the stem of a champagne flute.

Thalatha, as usual, leaned against the bar. Young men and women had gathered around him, talking too loudly and looking drunk. Thalatha caught Walid's eye and offered a silent, sarcastic toast.

"It is past time I married. She is suitable," he assured Gwendolyn.

She didn't pause for even one breath before jumping back at him. "You're not as good at lying as Ithnan. Do you need lessons? He can help you out."

"Gwendolyn, there is no need for concern."

"It's Gwen, remember? And that's lie number two." She held up a pair of fingers. "By the way, I think your fiancée just flirted with me. At your engagement ceremony."

A waiter passed with a tray of drinks. As much as he felt like going against his no-drinking policy, Walid did not take one. If he did, he would not stop at one. Or even a dozen. He might not stop until they laid him in the ground.

Gwendolyn, of course, did not take one because she was pregnant, her round belly sailing in front of her like the prow of a ship. Though he was no expert, she looked far too pregnant for six months. He strongly suspected his brother would be welcoming two offspring into the world in a few months.

A loud laugh rang across the room, higher and more musical than anyone else's voice. His fiancée's laugh.

She looked amazing in her white lace dress. She commanded the attention of everyone who saw her. The international press would swarm to her beauty, her presence, and the disgraceful antics he predicted for the future.

"I am aware of the issues," he told Gwendolyn. "Please trust me."

"I would put my life in your hands, but I have to ask. Whatever you're after here, is it worth marrying her?"

No
, he could not say.
Nothing is worth marrying her and sending Noelle away.

Nothing except Askar, and making up for the terrible mistakes he had made again and again.

He had not spoken to Noelle since their interaction on the dune of Agatir. He had delegated her departure to others, not being able to face it himself. Cowardly, he knew. But he had suffered for it all the same. As he had when she had left him before, his whole self had reacted to her departure. Less than an hour ago, he had felt the tearing, ripping sensation, as if a part of his body was being wrenched from him. Like losing a limb.

The feeling was made worse by the knowledge that she felt for him the way he felt for her. She had not said as much at Agatir, but he knew it in any case.

He must put such feelings aside now, and concentrate on the good of Askar. He must learn to make peace with Kalilah and her grandmother. Find a way to compromise with them, to put the country first.

After all, Askar was all he had now.

Gwendolyn must have sensed his weakness. "Walid, your father sacrificed you and Ithnan, and even Thale, for his stupid games and it didn't even work. You don't have to continue his dumb-ass legacy. You had to drink his poison when you were a kid, but
you
make the decisions now."

"Gwen, I was to unite the kingdoms, and I have lost Zallaq." And plunged Askar into debt--but he could not say that to her, no matter how much he wished to. He was doing what was right. His father would not have sacrificed himself for Askar, for all his talk of reuniting Zallaq and Sadad with Askar.
 

"I didn't know your father, but I think he obsessed about the reunification of the three kingdoms because something was broken in him. Maybe he imagined that if he could put the kingdoms together, it would make him whole. He expected you to fix the kingdoms, thinking it would fix him, too. That wasn't your fault, Walid."

This was not my fault. I was not responsible for this decision.
Wasn't that what Noelle had told him to say to himself?

"Someone recently said something similar to me," he said. "But nothing changes the fact that I failed in the task."

"Sounds like a smart guy. Okay, so you failed. So what? Is the sky falling? Is there war and famine and death everywhere?"

"There is peace," he conceded. "Relations between Askar and the province of Zallaq are positive."

His sister-in-law made the very exaggerated motion of putting her hand to her ear. "The, I'm sorry,
what
of Zallaq? I didn't quite catch that."

He rolled his eyes, but could not help the small smile that infringed on his dark mood. "The
kingdom
of Zallaq."

"Why thank you."

"My father was not Askar," he found himself saying. It seemed out of the blue, even to himself.

Gwendolyn did not seem surprised by the sentiment. "Uh, no, I'm pretty sure he wasn't."

"You said that he felt reuniting the country would make him whole," Walid explained. "But he was not Askar. He did not even represent Askar."

How could his father have been Askar? Noelle was. Her green eyes were the waters of Lake Marawi. Her golden hair was the sand of the desert. Her curves were the valleys of Al Fao. Her determined soul was the soul of his people, who wished only their freedom and a chance to work toward their own happiness.

And she gave up too easily. She would not get what she wanted until she pushed through the strongest adversity. Her bravery and her crazy thinking would get her to that end, eventually. She would learn to face and defeat her villain, if only she did not lose the impulse to jump out windows.

He had tried to keep her safe, and to convince her to passively accept that she would be rescued. He'd been wrong.

He should have been jumping out windows with her.

"You're right, Walid," his little sister said. "Your dad wasn't Askar. You are."

He found himself unable to respond. He had never equated himself with his country. The idea was ludicrous. Him?

His silence did not matter, as Gwendolyn continued without prompting. "I've always thought of you that way. Your father was the guardian of both you and the country, and he treated you both the same way. He cared more about his own agenda than he did about either of you. He lied to you both, he used you both, and he separated Ithnan from both of you.

"Now," she continued, "you're going to make the mistake of tying yourself to that woman. And along with you, Askar. You both deserve better, Walid. But it's your decision, and that's all I'm going to say. Ever. Now, I have to find a toilet and grace it with my royal pee. Bend down."

Like an automaton, he did as he was ordered, and received a kiss on the cheek before Gwendolyn strode off. Was it possible he was not the only one who enjoyed baiting his brother?

The party continued around him, everyone making conversation until the blessings would be spoken as the sun set, representing the ending of their separate lives.

As he watched Kalilah from across the room, he took in her beautiful face, her stunning body, and listened to her lyrical laugh, it occurred to him that he hated everything about her.

She was clearly marrying a man she did not love to placate her grandmother. Possibly did not even like, for the purposes of... he had no idea why. Would she be faithful to him? It seemed unlikely.

That woman would be his children's mother, the mother of the next king or queen of Askar. They would learn how to be adults from their parents, from him and from her.

What would she teach them? The way to live is to be polite and civil to your partner. That conflict is resolved with compromise. Not bad lessons.

From her, they would also learn to hide their pain behind flippant remarks. That other people could direct your life and you had no say in it. That power and position was more important than anything else.

From himself, the lessons they would learn were not much better. Worse, in fact. He had had a pirate princess and had given her up. Out of guilt. Guilt for actions that no one else seemed to blame him for. They would learn to sacrifice everything they wished for to make others happy.

Why did Kalilah not speak up for herself? Why not throw things and assert herself and do everything in her power to stop the disaster from happening?

Why was she not tying bedsheets together to lower herself out the window?

Then again, why was he not doing tying the linens together?

Something under his ribcage leapt at the idea. Gwendolyn was likely being escorted onto an airplane right now, but that did not mean so much.
 

He glanced toward the balcony. They were not so far off the ground. It was only three stories. Four, at the most.

No, no, he could not. Running away would not solve Askar's problem. Doing so would leave the country vulnerable. No matter what his wishes, he could not leave his country dangling from a rope in midair.

He could not escape. He needed to solve Askar's crisis. If he could not reunify the three kingdoms, then he had to do that, at least.

Or... perhaps there was a way to do both.

His body went numb at the idea that thrust itself into his mind. The sounds, the smells, the sights of the party--he sensed everything as if there was a gulf between him and the gathering.