The Sheikh's Collection. Оливия Гейтс

heard incredulity in his tone and bristled. ‘Not like that. We had an agreement—he would attend state functions with me as Prince Consort, act as ruler in name only. It would satisfy the people and, I hoped, my Council. But he wouldn’t actually have been involved in any decision making.’

      ‘And you would have been satisfied with that?’

      ‘It was what I wanted.’

      ‘Why not find a man who could truly be your equal, your partner? Who could help you to rule, who could support you?’

      Briefly, painfully, she thought of Paulo. ‘You speak as though such a thing is simple. Easy.’

      ‘No. Not that. But I wonder why you settle.’

      She swallowed past the sudden tightness in her throat. ‘What about you, Khalil? Do you want an equal, a partner in marriage as well as in ruling?’

      Surprise flashed briefly in his eyes before his expression hardened. ‘No.’

      ‘Then why do you think I would want one? Simply because I am a woman?’

      ‘No...’ He gazed at her thoughtfully. ‘I only asked, because if you needed to marry to please your country it seems wise to pick a man who could be your friend and helpmate, not a stranger.’

      ‘Well, unfortunately for me, I don’t have a friend and helpmate waiting in the wings.’ She’d meant to sound light and wry but cringed at the self-pity she heard in her voice instead. ‘I’ve been alone for a long time,’ she continued when she trusted herself to sound more measured. ‘I’m used to it now, and it’s more comfortable for me that way.’ Even if, since meeting Khalil, she’d started to realise all she’d been missing out on. ‘I imagine you might be the same.’

      ‘Yes, I am.’

      ‘Well, then.’

      Khalil leaned back in his seat, his gaze sweeping over her in thoughtful assessment. ‘So you made this arrangement with Aziz to please your Council?’

      ‘Appease them, more like.’ Elena hesitated, not wanting to admit more but knowing she needed to. ‘The Head of Council, Andreas Markos, has threatened to call a vote at the next convening.’ She took a breath, then forced herself to finish. ‘A vote to depose me and abolish the monarchy.’

      Khalil was silent for a moment. ‘And, let me guess, put himself forward as head of state? Prime Minister, perhaps?’

      Amazingly she found herself smiling wryly. ‘Something like that.’

      ‘And you think he won’t if you are married?’

      ‘I’m gambling that he won’t,’ Elena admitted. ‘It’s a calculated risk.’

      ‘I understand about those.’

      ‘Yes, I suppose you do.’ They smiled at each other, and as the moment spun out Elena wondered at herself. How could they be joking about her captivity? How could she feel, in that moment, that they were co-conspirators, somehow complicit in all that had happened? Yet she did, and more than that. So much more than that.

      ‘The Thallian people like me, for the most part,’ she continued after a moment. ‘And a royal marriage would be very popular. Markos would have a difficult time getting the Council to vote against me if the country approved.’

      ‘I imagine,’ Khalil said quietly, ‘that your people like you very much indeed, Elena. I think you must be a good queen. You are clearly very loyal to your people.’

      Pleasure rippled through her at the sincerity she heard in his voice. It meant so much, more than she’d ever even realised, to have someone believe in her.

      ‘I’m trying to be a good queen,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I know I’ve made mistakes—’ and she didn’t want to talk about those ‘—but I love Thallia and its people. I want to celebrate its traditions, but also bring it into the twenty-first century.’

      Khalil arched an eyebrow. ‘And have you had much success so far?’

      Elena ducked her head, suddenly shy. She wasn’t used to talking about her accomplishments; so often they went unrecognised, by her Council, at any rate. ‘A bit. I’ve introduced some new policies to protect women’s rights. I’ve initiated a review of the national curriculum for primary schools. The education in Thallia has been one of its weaknesses.’

      Khalil nodded, encouraging, and shyly Elena continued, ‘I also helped to start an annual festival to celebrate the country’s music and dance. It’s a small thing, but important to our heritage. Thallia is named after the muse of poetry, you know.’

      ‘I didn’t know.’ His eyes, Elena saw, crinkled when he smiled. She looked away.

      ‘I know it doesn’t sound like much.’

      ‘Why belittle yourself or what you’ve done? There are enough people to do that for you. I’ve learned that much.’

      ‘We’ve both persevered,’ Elena said quietly. She met his gaze and held it, feeling an overwhelming solidarity with this man who had once been her enemy. They were so alike. He understood her, and she understood him, more than she’d ever expected.

      ‘And this Markos,’ Khalil said after a moment. ‘He has that power—to call such a vote?’

      ‘Unfortunately he does. Our Constitution states that the monarch cannot enact a law that isn’t approved by the majority of the Council, and the Council can’t pass one that isn’t endorsed by the King or Queen.’ Elena gave a rather bleak smile. ‘But there’s one important caveat: if the Council votes unanimously, the monarch is forced to acquiesce.’

      ‘Even to your own demise?’

      ‘That hasn’t happened in a thousand years.’ She looked away then, afraid he’d see the fear and shame on her face: the fear that she would be the one to end it. The shame that she wasn’t strong enough to keep her crown or the promise she’d made to her father as he’d lain dying.

      For Thallia, Elena. You must live for Thallia and the crown.

      ‘You won’t be the one to end it, Elena,’ Khalil said quietly. The certainty in his voice made her glow inside. ‘You’re too strong for that.’

      ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

      ‘You have a lot of pressure put on you, for such a young woman,’ Khalil continued. Elena just shrugged. ‘You are an only child, I presume? The title has always fallen to you?’

      ‘Yes, although for most of my childhood my parents hoped for more children.’ Her mouth twisted downwards. ‘For a boy.’

      ‘And they were disappointed, I presume?’

      ‘Yes. My mother had many miscarriages, but no more live children.’

      ‘A tragedy.’

      ‘Yes. I suppose it’s why they felt a need to keep me so sheltered. Protected.’

      ‘You were doted on?’

      ‘Not exactly.’ She thought of how little she’d actually seen her parents. ‘Kept apart, really. I didn’t go to formal school until I was thirteen.’ When she’d been gawky, overwhelmed and terribly shy. It hadn’t been a great introduction to school life.

      ‘And then you became Queen at a young age,’ Khalil continued. He reached over to refill her glass with wine. Elena had already finished her first glass; Dutch courage, she supposed, for when she’d been telling him all that truth. She took another sip of wine now as she met his tawny gaze.

      ‘Nineteen,’ she said after she had swallowed, felt the liquid slip down her throat and steal seductively through her again.

      ‘I know your parents died in a terrorist bombing,’ Khalil said quietly. Elena nodded. She dreaded talking or even thinking about that awful day, hated the memories