Heir to a Desert Legacy. Maisey Yates

of him, so small, in the plush bed made her throat tighten. This room had been prepared by Tamara. Prepared for a son she had never gotten the chance to hold. Hadn’t even been able to carry in her womb.

      Chloe had done that, and she had hated it. Had been miserable through the whole pregnancy while her sister, who would never even know her child, had longed to carry the baby and hadn’t been able to.

      Tears stung her eyes. She wanted to rail at the world. At the injustice of it. Nothing made sense in the world. Nothing. There was no reason. And she, she most especially, seemed to have no way of controlling it. She’d tried. She’d planned. And everything had fallen apart.

      Anguish threatened to overwhelm her, to wrap bony fingers around her throat and squeeze her tight, cutting off her air.

      “Is everything to your liking?”

      She turned and saw Sayid standing in the opening to Aden’s room, his shoulders military straight, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression hard. In that moment, she envied him. He saw things clearly, in black and white. There was no confusion for him. No anger. No grief. He was simply doing what had to be done, and for him, that seemed to be enough.

      Nothing she did felt like enough. Nothing felt right.

      Not even this, and it was the only thing she could think to do.

      “It’s beautiful, but I imagine you know that.”

      His shoulders broke rank long enough to shrug. “The palace is done in the traditional Attari style. It is not so unusual here.”

      “Ah yes, well, I can see how a castle made of semiprecious stones would get tiresome after a while,” she said drily.

      “I find most anything preferable to an enemy prison, in that regard the palace does nicely. It is nicer to look at than a prison cell at the very least.”

      “Is that all that makes it better?” she asked, laughing, a nervous shaky sound.

      “In some ways,” he said slowly, “it is shockingly similar to prison.” His statement begged a question but he pressed on too quickly. “Your schooling has been worked out. The classes will be broadcasted onto a website you can log in to. That way you can view the lectures in addition to having your reading material on hand.”

      “Labs? I mainly work in the realm of the theoretical, which means more mathematics than actual physical experiments, but there is some lab work to be done.”

      “It will likely have to be deferred, but that’s fine, as well. You’re a well-liked student.”

      “Most everyone at this level is. If you’re pursuing physics this far, it’s a passion.”

      “And you are… passionate about it?”

      The way he said “passionate” made her stomach curl in slightly, and she wasn’t sure why. “Yes.”

      “What about it do you find so fascinating?”

      She looked down at Aden. “I like to know why. The why of everything.” She looked back at Sayid. “Though, I’ve discovered there are things in life that simply aren’t explainable. I know about the building blocks of life, but I haven’t exactly figured out how to make everything make sense yet.”

      “Not everything can be explained,” he said.

      “But it’s my great quest to see if it can be.”

      He shook his head. “I can tell you right now, there is too much in this world that does not make sense and never will. Greed makes men do terrible things, desire for power. The desire for control.”

      “Survival of the fittest,” she said.

      “Sure. But I’ve seen it. I’ve seen what people are willing to do. It does not make sense, trust me.”

      She did. His voice rang with a depth of understanding that echoed inside of her. Images of violence flashed behind her eyes.

      Sometimes there really was no reason.

      “To the best of my ability,” she said, trying to shake off the memories, “I try to make sense of it all. To find the absolutes, the things that can’t be argued or denied. Theoretically, it should make my life feel more ordered. More in control.”

      “How is that working out?”

      “Like hell, actually.”

      He nodded slowly. “Yes, that has been my experience, as well. In particular, in regards to recent events.”

      “Common ground,” she said. “Unexpected.”

      “Perhaps not quite so unexpected,” he said. “I see things in much the same way you do. Black or white. Yes or no.”

      She looked at Aden, love, pain, filling her. “I used to see things that way. More than I do now.”

      Sayid looked away from her, his dark eyes scanning the room. The moment of connection was broken. “There will be two other nannies in my employ while you are here. One to work in the night, the other to help handle him while you study.”

      “And I’m the… wet nurse. Part of the prince’s team?”

      He looked back at her and for a moment, she thought she saw a teasing light in his eyes. “A prince needs a team. Calling you another nanny would do, though, no need to be dramatic. Or medieval.”

      She looked back down at Aden and the enormity of what he would face filled her, overwhelmed her. It was unfair, she knew, because even if his parents had lived, his future would be the same. He was, as Sayid had pointed out, born to rule.

      But right then it didn’t seem fair. Didn’t seem fair that the expectations of a nation should rest on the shoulders of this tiny baby.

      “Why can’t you just do it?” she whispered. “You were going to rule. Can’t you take it from him?”

      She chanced a glance at him. His eyes were trained on the wall, distance. Dark. “I would do what had to be done, but I am not the man to lead this country.”

      “But you’re doing it until Aden is old enough to—”

      “I will do what must be done.”

      “Nothing more?” she asked, not bothering to keep the bitterness from her tone.

      He looked at her then, and she studied the hard lines of his face, the light that filtered through the windows deepening the grooves by his mouth, making the line between his brows appear deeper. It revealed his cares, his pain, the marks, the age, the world had left on him.

      “Attar needs hope. A future filled with endless possibilities. With me, they will not get that. Death follows me, Chloe James. I will not bring that on my people, but on their enemies.”

      He turned and walked back out of the room, and Chloe just watched, tension releasing from her slowly with each step he took away from her, until she was left feeling like wrung-out jelly. She hadn’t been conscious of just how tense she’d been until it had started to ease.

      She let out a breath and clenched her hands into fists, trying to stop her fingers from shaking. His words echoed in her head, so dark, so certain.

      She shook her head, focusing her mind back on Aden. There was too much going on for her to adopt Sayid’s issues, as well. And anyway, she imagined he would say he didn’t have any. She wandered back into her room, sitting down at the laptop that had already been set up at a corner desk for her. She could at least do some course work, study for her tests. She pushed the on button and waited for it to boot up, scanning the room, the view of the gardens from the double doors.

      Today, everything had changed. Again.

      “Sheikh Sayid,” Sayid’s advisor, Malik, walked into the dining room, his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him. It was not the person he’d been expecting. He’d been expecting Chloe, spitting hellfire and brimstone