Royal Families Vs. Historicals. Rebecca Winters

piano landed.

      She knew.

      “Your family knows this is why you came?” His mind raced while cold sweat lifted in his palms. He tried to imagine how he would contain this, but his mind was as empty as the shifting dunes in the desert. Old protectiveness warred with fresh, fierce aggression while betrayal washed through him.

      “No,” she dismissed, barely speaking above a whisper. Her eyes stayed that soft, mossy green. “They think I decided to brave the wedding. That’s all.”

      “How did you find him?”

      “He came to me. Asked me to bring that to you for Hasna.”

      Trella walked in, making both of them start guiltily. Kasim let his arm fall so his sleeve fell over his fist where he clutched the pendant. He slipped it into the side pocket of his robe.

      Trella’s gaze flicked between them, sticking upon her sister’s pale face. “Shall I come back?”

      “No,” Kasim said on impulse, probably a self-destructive one. “You can tell your family that she’s with me.” He clasped Angelique’s hand in an implacable grip.

      “Kasim—”

      “We have to talk.” He had to ensure Jamal would stay dead. That’s what he told himself, even though he knew at a cell-deep level that he could trust Angelique with this secret. She hadn’t told her family, had she?

      “Gili, your phone,” Trella urged, handing it to Angelique as Kasim tugged her toward the door.

      There’s no point, he thought, as he decided on the fly where they were going.