The True King of Dahaar. Tara Pammi

cavern of longing opened up inside of her. Even thousands of miles away, she had felt as if she had lost her own family when she heard of the attack. Her throat ached, her vision felt dizzy. She ran trembling fingers over Azeez’s face in the photo.

      She leaned her head against the wall. Seeing this familiar place without him was shaking the very foundations of the life she had resolutely built for herself.

      And she couldn’t—she wouldn’t—give that much power to a memory. Couldn’t let it undo everything she had accomplished.

      “How have you been, Nikhat?”

      She turned around and stared at the new Crown Prince, Ayaan bin Riyaaz Al-Sharif, the boy she had once tutored in chemistry. His copper-gold gaze shone with warmth. The cut of his features, so similar to Azeez’s, knocked the breath out of her.

      She had gone into shock the day she had heard of the terrorist attack. To see Ayaan again, so many years later filled her with a joy she couldn’t contain. Nikhat reached him, and hugged him.

      Something she wouldn’t have dared do eight years earlier.

      A soft chuckle shook his lean frame. Stepping back, Nikhat fought the urge to apologize for her impulsive gesture. Her composure was shaken by being back here but not torn. A woman, and one not connected to the royal family in any way, would never have hugged the Crown Prince. But she was not the average Dahaaran woman anymore, bound by its traditions and customs. “It’s good to see you, Ayaan.”

      He nodded, his gaze studying her with unhidden thoroughness. “You, too, Nikhat.”

      He led her to the sitting area, where a silver tea service waited. Settling down opposite him, Nikhat shook her head when he inquired if she wanted something.

      The Ayaan that she had known had always had a twinkle in his eyes, a core made of pure joy. The Crown Prince that looked at her now had the mantle of Dahaar weighing him down. There was grief in those eyes of his, a hardness that had found a permanent place in his features.

      She had been back in the capital city of Dahaara hardly a day before she had been summoned to a private meeting by the Crown Prince. Not something she could have actually refused, even if she had wanted to. “How did you know I was back in Dahaara?” she said, getting straight to the point.

      He shrugged and crossed his legs. Hesitation danced in his eyes before he said, “I have an offer for you.”

      Nikhat frowned. After eight years with no word from her father, she had been beyond thrilled to hear his voice. But now… “You ordered my father to call me home,” she said, the unease she had felt the minute she had received his request solidifying. “You knew how eager I would be to see my family. That’s a low blow, Your Highness.”

      Ayaan rubbed his brow, no hint of guilt in his steady gaze. “It’s the price I have to pay for that title, Nikhat.”

      His words were simple, yet the weight of responsibility behind them struck Nikhat. Clamping down her anger, she remained seated. “Fine, you have me here now. I should warn you though. I’m not a genie to automatically grant your wish.”

      A sudden smile split his mouth, warmth spilling into his eyes. And the flash of another face, smiling like that, similar yet different, rose in front of her eyes.

      Her chest felt incredibly tight and she forced herself to breathe through it. There were going to be reminders of Azeez everywhere in Dahaar. And she refused to spiral into an emotional mess every time she came across one.

      She had done that long enough when she had left eight years ago.

      “I see that you have not changed at all. Which is good for me.”

      “No riddles, Ayaan,” she said, forcing herself to address him as the young man she once knew.

      “How would you like to spearhead a top-notch women’s clinic here in Dahaara? You’ll have complete authority on its administration. I’ll even get the Ministry to sign off on a health-care-worker training program, specifically for women. It is something I have had in mind and you are without a doubt the best candidate for it.”

      Shock spiraling through her, Nikhat had no words.

      All the longing she had held at bay for eight years, the loneliness that had churned through her, rose to the surface. It was what she had wanted when she had begged her father to let her study medicine, her one goal that had become her focus and anchor when everything else had fallen apart, the impossible dream that had pulled her back to Dahaar from a prestigious position in New York.

      She had readied herself for an uphill battle against prejudices masquerading as traditions, and so much more. The sound of disbelief ringing through her must have escaped, because Ayaan clasped her hand.

      “You can make a home here in Dahaara, Nikhat. Be near your family again,” Ayaan continued.

      Nikhat nodded, eternally grateful for his understanding. Ayaan had always been the kinder of the two brothers. Whereas Azeez…there had never been any middle ground with him.

      She returned his clasp, clinging to the high of his announcement. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted, Ayaan.”

      A flicker of unease entered his gaze. “There’s something I require from you in exchange, however. A personal favor for the royal family.”

      Nikhat shook her head. “I owe my profession to your father. Without King Malik’s aid and support, my father would’ve never let me finish high school, much less study medicine. I don’t need to be manipulated or offered incentives if you need something from me. All you have to do is ask.”

      Ayaan nodded, but the wariness in his gaze didn’t recede. “This position, this is something I want you to have. It’s what my father wanted for you when he supported your education. But what I’m about to ask stretches the boundaries of gratitude.”

      Nikhat nodded, trying to keep the anxiety his words caused from her face.

      He sucked in a deep breath. “Azeez is alive, Nikhat.”

      For a few seconds, the meaning of his words didn’t sink in.

      It felt as if the world around her had slowed down, waiting for the buzzing in her ears to pass. The tightness in her chest morphed into a fist in her throat as she saw the truth in his eyes. A stormlike shiver swept through Nikhat and she fought to hold herself together, to fight the urge to flee the palace and never look back.

      How many times was she going to flee?

      She had worked so hard to realize her dream, had waited all these years to see her family again and she couldn’t let anyone stop her now. Not even the man she had once loved with every breath in her body.

      Letting herself breathe through the panic in her head, she forced calm into her voice. “I haven’t heard a word about this.”

      “Because no one other than a few trusted servants and my parents know. Until I can be sure that revealing that he’s alive doesn’t have a negative effect on Dahaar, I have to contain it.” His voice shook and Nikhat reached for his hand this time, even as she fought her own alarm.

       How could he be alive after all these years? How was he now?

      “I found him four months ago in the desert and I still have no idea how he survived or what he did these past six years. He refuses to see our parents, he barely tolerates my visits. The true prince of Dahaar is now my prisoner.” Utter desolation spewed into his words. “I have managed to keep it a secret until now. It would crush the people of Dahaar to see him like this. They…”

      “They worshipped him, I know.” He’d been their golden prince, arrogant but charming, courageous, born to rule his country. And he had loved Dahaar with a passion that had colored everything he had done.

      His love, his passion…they were like a desert storm, consuming you, changing you if you came out alive.

      “I’d hoped that he