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But the jewels were all here, or perhaps they were merely replacements, a tiara for a tiara, gold bangles for gold bangles. Her chest tightened with sorrow and fresh pain.
He believed Amin but not her. He’d trusted Amin but not her.
Bryn lowered the jewelry box lid, the lid closing with a hollow little thud, much like her heart in her chest.
She sat down slowly on the edge of the bed, her hands braced on either side of her hips, her fingers outstretched on the smooth silk coverlet. She was stricken at the memory of her last night in the palace, in this room. Amin had trapped her here, his mouth had covered hers to stifle her scream. He’d tasted sour, of alcohol and old cigarettes, and he’d used his weight to pin her on the bed.
“My lady, this is your old room, yes? You like room, yes?”
Old room… Yes. Bryn shivered, blinked and forced herself to pull out of the past and focus on Lalia. It was her old room. A room that had given her nightmares for years.
Bryn stood up, crossed her arms over her chest. She felt disgust and fury that she was being trapped in this room—in this life—again. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stay here. You’ll have to tell his highness this room won’t do.”
Lalia opened her mouth but before she could speak, Bryn marched to the door. “Never mind, I’ll tell him myself.”
Bryn got nowhere. Guards outside the women’s quarters wouldn’t let her pass. They simply stood there, two abreast, and shook their heads. “Don’t make me scream.”
The guards didn’t even blink.
So she screamed, loudly, shockingly loudly, screaming as though she were being hurt, even murdered, and no one came.
And the soldiers didn’t move.
Only Lalia fell to Bryn’s feet weeping. “Please, Princess, please, Princess, please.”
“Lalia, stop!”
“Princess, you’ll get me in trouble. I shall be very punished for displeasing you.”
The girl was clutching Bryn’s feet, pressing her lips to Bryn’s ankle bones. “Lalia!”
But the girl continued to beg, muttering teary incoherent things in Arabic, speaking so rapidly that Bryn only picked up words and brief phrases. “Lalia, no one will punish you.”
“His lord highness will!”
“That’s not true.”
Lalia cast a fearful glance at the guards. “My lady,” she choked, pressing her wet face against Bryn’s shin, “your last girl was sent to very bad place. Please, Princess, do not have send me away, too.”
Bryn felt a rush of remorse. Was that true? Had Adjia, her first maid, been punished? “I must see his highness. I must,” she said more quietly.
“And you will. His highness will call for you. I know. I am sure. Now come, Princess, have some tea.”
Kahlil had been home only three hours and already he’d received a phone call from Amin.
He slowly hung up the receiver and stared at the photograph on his office desk, a silver-framed photo Amin had given him of the two of them. The picture had been snapped after a polo match a number of years ago. Amin had his arm slung around Kahlil’s neck and they were laughing at a joke Amin had made. They looked like the best of friends.
For a while Kahlil had thought they were best friends, or at least very good friends.
But that changed a long, long time ago—back before they were adults with duties. Responsibilities. Kahlil wondered when friendship had turned to envy. When genuine affection had transformed into manipulation.
During their twenties they had still laughed, continued to share a joke and spend an evening together, but it wasn’t without tension. And guilt. Kahlil didn’t need to be reminded that fate had treated them differently— Kahlil the crown prince. Amin, the poor relation.
And now Amin wanted to come home again, to return to Zwar for a visit. Amin had only been back once in three and a half years, and that was for an afternoon, for Kahlil’s father’s funeral. They hadn’t even talked then. Amin acted as if the funeral was merely a government formality.
So why did Amin want to return to Tiva now? Why not six months ago? Six weeks ago? Six months from now?
It couldn’t be because of Bryn, could it?
Kahlil picked up the framed photograph. He studied Amin’s boyishly handsome face, the light gray eyes, the laughing mouth.
Maybe it was time he put to rest the rumors, and the speculation. If there was something between Bryn and Amin he might as well find out now.
Kahlil returned the photo to his desk and reached for the phone again. Swiftly he punched the numbers to Amin’s apartment in Monte Carlo. Amin answered almost right away.
“I’ve thought it over,” Kahlil said coolly. “You’re right. It has been a long time since we’ve been together. Come home. Let’s catch up.”
Bryn watched the maid unpack the small overnight bag that managed to make the trip from Dallas.
Silently, industriously, Lalia tucked Bryn’s handful of lingerie and undergarments into the clothing wardrobe. But her expression changed when she pulled the dresses and pantsuit from the bottom of the bag. “These are not for Princess,” she said.
But I don’t want to be a princess, Bryn thought in exasperation from her perch on the foot of the bed. She just wanted to be Bryn, a twenty-four-year-old mother with a small but sincere circle of friends. She’d made a good life for herself in Texas; it might not have been fancy, and she might have lived off limited means, but it was her life and she wasn’t complaining.
Lalia hung up Bryn’s dresses but did so with obvious distaste. She opened up the second wardrobe door and gestured to the rainbow of color inside. Turquoise, royal-blue, violet, rose, peach, lemon-yellow, ivory, white, gold. Silks, chiffon, satin, velvets. Long gowns beaded and embroidered, jewel encrusted. “For Princess,” Lalia said, “You like?”
Incredible. How long had those dresses been hanging in the closet? How much had Kahlil invested in them while waiting for her to return?
Her jewelry box was full. The wardrobe an abundance of delicate fabrics and vibrant color. Gold slippers lined on the floor.
It was how it had been before. It was how Kahlil determined it would be again. Everything had changed but nothing was different.
Incredible. Excruciating. Bryn felt a torment of guilt, realizing how hard it must have been for Kahlil to wait for her, understanding for the first time that he had never intended their marriage to end. He’d merely given her time.
He’d wanted her back.
Lalia gently closed the wardr
obe doors and turned to face Bryn. “Everything is ready. Come, we shall draw your bath.”
Undressing in the marble bathroom, Bryn caught a glimpse of herself in the massive gilt-framed mirror. Her long hair hung lank, blue shadows dimmed the brightness of her eyes. She felt like hell and she looked it, too.
“My lady, the bath is hot, yes, see? Please, sit.” Lalia gestured to the gold sunken tub set in white marble shot with streaks of gray. The tub’s faucets were gold. The sink and fixtures were gold. Marble and gold. Real gold. Solid gold. A bathroom fit for a queen.
Fragrant steam rose from the gold tub, flower petals floated on the water’s surface.
Bryn dropped her towel, shy but resigned to the palace’s lack of privacy. The palace maids were too well trained, too fearful of displeasing to not fulfill their duties, and their duties were many. It was their job to serve, to assist, to make the princess’s life comfortable.
Suddenly Kahlil’s voice grated, shattering the quiet. “Leave us,” he said, voice echoing in the polished marble bath. “I wish to speak to my wife. Alone.”
Lalia fled the room, bowing, scraping, whimpering worshiping words that drove Bryn crazy.
Bryn’s first impulse was to leap from the tub and grab a towel, but she found herself frozen, reclining beneath the rose strewn scented water in shock. “What are you doing here? Where’s Ben?”
“Which question should I answer first?”
She felt her blood begin to boil. “Ben, please. Where is he? And what on earth happened at the airport?”
“It doesn’t concern you.”
“There isn’t any real threat, is there? I won’t have Ben subjected to unrest or instability.”
“Your imagination runs away with you again. It was a protective measure, nothing more than that.”
“I don’t like being separated from Ben and I want him back.”
He turned his face to the door. “Unfortunately you’re not getting him back.”
“Kahlil!”
“Sorry, but it’s the truth. I’m removing him from your care until I know what to do.”
