Hot Arabian Nights. Marguerite Kaye

‘You are quite correct. For the last ten years, the freedom I thought I had claimed was a mirage.’

      ‘You really did think your father had disinherited you?’

      ‘I had every reason to.’

      ‘It must have been a terrible shock to discover he had not. You said you received a summons to tell you your father was dead, I think?’

      ‘The summons was from my father, though he instructed that it be sent only on the occasion of his death. He clearly had no desire to be reconciled with me, our estrangement was every bit as final as I believed it to be. Unlike your husband, my father could not control my actions while he was alive, but—’

      ‘By refusing to disinherit you, he was forcing you to return against your will. He was trying to control you from beyond the grave,’ Julia interrupted, her eyes wide. ‘Just exactly like Daniel!’

      ‘Precisely. I knew you of all people would understand.’

      ‘I do. I must say, though, that you must be in a tiny minority of men who would willingly renounce such a powerful and privileged position.’

      ‘Most men do not understand all that being in a position of power entails. Power comes with great responsibility attached. As a king, I would be constrained by my duty to my kingdom, bound to it by my crown. That is not freedom.’

      Julia shuddered. ‘No, indeed, but as the eldest son you must have grown up knowing Qaryma would one day be yours.’

      ‘And railing against that fate, though I never believed I could avoid it. I never wanted to rule, whereas Kamal—it is one of the things that made him so angry the other day in the garden. He has always desperately wanted to rule. Even when we were children, it was a bone of contention. He wanted it but could not have it. I had no interest in it but was burdened with it. The irony has always eaten away at him.’

      Julia rolled her eyes. ‘I can imagine. Were you never close? I know almost nothing of your past.’

      ‘That is because I have put it behind me,’ Azhar said. Julia drew him a sceptical look, forcing him to throw his hands up. ‘By the time I leave here, it will be behind me for ever.’

      ‘Context is all,’ Julia retorted. ‘To understand a plant, one must understand its environment.’

      His lip twitched. ‘I am not a rare species to be documented and categorised.’

      ‘No, you are not rare, you are quite unique, which is why I’d like to understand you a little more.’

      ‘You flatter me.’

      ‘To speak the truth is not flattery,’ Julia said, quoting his own words back at him.

      ‘You are a very devious woman, Julia Trevelyan.’

      ‘I don’t think I’ll add that to my list of compliments. Has my deviousness paid off?’

      Azhar laughed. ‘Yes, but you must not assume you have set a precedent. We will take a tour of the palace. You want to know more about my past. The palace both contains and defines my past. Can you be ready in half an hour?’

      * * *

      ‘The palace is formed around four courts. The First Court functions merely as an entrance courtyard, with access to the stables, the guards’ quarters, the kitchens and stores. Anyone may enter the First Court. We are currently in the Second Court, which is the first inner courtyard, and the first to which entry is strictly controlled. You will observe too, that it is surrounded by a much higher wall than the First Court.’

      Julia gazed around the huge open space, where five distinct paths formed by box hedges bordered by cypress and plane trees, radiated out at angles from the gated entry. She had passed through the space before, and had been much taken by the carefully tended formal gardens, which were laid out in the classical style around a huge central pentagon shape. She had noticed the high wall only to remark to herself on the quality of the shade it provided. Now it made her shiver. ‘It is like a castle keep.’

      ‘That is because it was originally built as a fortress. These walls form the oldest part of the palace, which dates back almost five hundred years.’

      ‘Are there still wars?’

      ‘Not for at least a century.’

      ‘Then the walls and the gate...’

      ‘Serve tradition. Symbolise the majesty of the King. Act as a reminder of his strength and his power. The walls demonstrate the gulf that lies between a king and his people.’

      ‘A gulf that you must have breached. You know the desert, Azhar, and the little I’ve seen of the people—they know you.’

      ‘That is true.’ Azhar agreed. ‘Even as a child, I hated the confines of these walls. I always yearned to know what was happening outside them.’

      ‘But your father preferred you to remain inside?’

      ‘He preferred that my trips into the kingdom were formalised.’ Azhar led the way along the middle of the five paths. ‘My father believed that a king must be seen to rule, that he must be a presence to his people, but that presence must be orchestrated. Processions. Feasts. Ceremonies. Always, the line between the King, his family and his subjects must be drawn firmly in the sand. And always, from my earliest days, as soon as I was old enough to think for myself, I disagreed with him. I wanted to see for myself, hear for myself and experience life for myself.’

      ‘Then as now,’ Julia said.

      Azhar smiled grimly. ‘Then as now, as you say. If I make mistakes, they are my own. A king can never make mistakes.’

      ‘Never admit to them, at any rate. That is one royal trait that Daniel had in abundance,’ Julia interjected. ‘He hated to be in the wrong. There was a time in South America, when our barge—’ She broke off abruptly, shocked by the bitterness in her voice.

      ‘Your barge?’

      Azhar raised an enquiring brow, but she shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter. He blamed me, and though it was ludicrous I allowed him to blame me because it was easier than arguing with him. It is mortifying, on reflection, how much I permitted his opinions to rule me.’

      ‘And to give you a very low opinion of yourself,’ Azhar said gently.

      ‘Yes, you’ve said that several times, and I’m beginning to think you’re right, which is why I’ve resolved to try not to dwell on the past. I am not incapable of making mistakes—my dragoman being an obvious example—but nor am I inept. I have travelled alone halfway across the world. I have been robbed, and drugged and carried off by a complete stranger to a remote kingdom I had no idea existed until a week ago, and yet here I am, still alive and kicking. You see,’ Julia said, smiling, ‘I do listen.’

      ‘I am glad to hear it.’

      Azhar’s smile made her belly clench. His mouth distracted her. It reminded her of the kisses they had exchanged in the garden. It made her want more of them. She shouldn’t be thinking about kisses. ‘We are supposed to be talking about your past, not mine,’ Julia said.

      She dragged her eyes away from the beguiling man to the almost-as-beguiling surroundings. It was cool in the shade of the tall trees. At the centre of the pentagon, on either side of their path, were a pair of matching fountains, their bases formed in a star shape, patterned with gold mosaic, the inside tiled in the traditional turquoise. In the centre of each, water spouted from a huge urn. Julia sat down on the edge of the nearest fountain, trailing her hand in the water. ‘It is very quiet here. I would have thought a court like this would be full of people coming and going—for it is a sort of waiting room, isn’t it?’

      ‘Yes,’ Azhar said, with one of his fleeting smiles, ‘a waiting room. An empty one.’ He sat down beside her, leaning back on the edge of the fountain to gaze up at the inner wall, visible above the cypress trees. ‘My father was always very wary of foreign traders,’ he said. ‘He