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After he bade her goodnight at her door and returned to his own adjoining suite, he sat at his desk and idly shuffled through official papers. His mind was not with his work tonight, nor had it been for the entire day. He had been eager to return to the palace almost from the moment he had left it. The chemistry between himself and his new bride was an unwelcome complication and until now he had not known how to manage it, except to keep a distance between them. But perhaps all he needed was a simple redirection. It was not weak or emotional to wish for an accord with the woman who would stand by his side for the next five years. It was practical and far more realistic than his original plan.
Humming to himself, he made a neat, concise list of plans and felt the dark mood that had plagued him begin to lift. Everything was still perfectly in order.
* * *
Cressida dreamt of her father, his face contorted with anger as he shouted down at her. She was small in the dream, afraid to speak but feeling his words pierce holes in her delicate skin. She woke with her throat parched dry as though she had been screaming. Dawn had just begun to break over the city; she could see the first flickers of pink light spreading out over the desert in the distance.
She took pleasure in dressing herself without an audience, much to the confusion of her maids, who entered her sitting room to find her fully clothed in one of the loose silk kaftans that had been provided as part of her new wardrobe. The material was a jade-green chiffon with satin lining, decorated with sparkling beads and tiny stones around the collar and cuffs. She had showered and allowed her long ash-blonde hair to dry naturally so it wasn’t quite straight but still fell in pleasing waves down her back.
When she entered the dining room of the royal apartment she was surprised to find Khal already seated. He stood while she took her seat at the opposite end of the table, offering a pleasant good morning before returning to his coffee and newspaper. She ate quietly, glancing up every now and then to watch with fascination as he switched between his tablet computer and the broadsheet spread out across the table by his side. Taking notes, by the looks of it, she mused. It should not surprise her that his working day would begin the moment he opened his eyes.
When she had finished eating, he was still absorbed in his reading so she stood up quietly, intending to leave him in peace.
‘My apologies for being so distracted; I’m not used to sharing breakfast with anyone.’ Khal stood, neatly folding his paper and folding up the cover of his device before tucking it under his arm.
‘There’s no need for you to change your morning rituals simply because I am here,’ Cressida said earnestly. ‘I have a morning packed full of lessons and dress fittings and goodness knows what else. I’m kept quite busy around here.’
‘Yes, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. My advisors told me that so far you have been using the main library for all of your studies.’
‘The library is wonderful. I’m happy to continue there.’
‘I wanted to show you something, before you start your day.’ He motioned for her to follow him out of the main door of the apartment, a strange lightness in his usually austere expression. ‘It’s just so
mething I thought of after our conversation last night.’
Cressida kept her expression neutral as she followed him down the halls of the royal wing of the palace in the direction of the Sheikh’s formal offices and library. She had been given a tour of this area of the palace but told that it was for official use only.
‘This is my office and official rooms through here,’ he said idly, gesturing to a door that led onto a room as big as a basketball court. She had not been permitted inside, but she had been told that many more rooms spread out from there, a library, secretarial offices and such. The Sheikh walked across the large sunny vestibule to a door tucked away at the end of the hallway. He hesitated for a moment before pushing it open and allowing her to enter first.
At first she wasn’t quite sure if it was an office or a library. Books lined three of the four walls but there was also a working area on one side with a large cherry-wood desk, complete with a computer, phone and pens. A long plush sofa occupied the other side of the room, facing a large arched window that overlooked the gardens beyond.
‘I decided you needed a place of your own for your studies,’ Khal said matter-of-factly. ‘It used to be my office when I was the Crown Prince.’
Cressida walked over to one of the bookcases and ran her fingers along the spines. A place of her own. Her own little sanctuary. She had made one comment to him about missing her tiny study space back in London and he had gone and given her an entire office of her own. She darted a look over her shoulder to see him still standing in the doorway, watching her with hooded brows.
‘You can have it redecorated to your own personal taste, of course. I won’t be offended if you don’t like the décor. And I will arrange to have whichever books you prefer transported here from the main library if the selection here is lacking—’
‘It’s perfect.’ Her voice sounded surprisingly calm, in contrast to the alarming burst of emotion swelling in her chest. ‘Thank you.’
He waved off her gratitude good-naturedly before glancing at the watch on his wrist. ‘I must start my working day officially, but feel free to stay here and settle in if you wish. If you need anything at all, there is an intercom on the desk and an assistant assigned to you.’
‘An assistant?’ Cressida gasped.
‘The Sheikha always has a personal assistant once royal duties commence,’ he replied easily, as though it should have been obvious to her. ‘You have three weeks until you officially enter into public life. The calendar of a Sheikha can be quite demanding.’
They were interrupted by two palace officials, seeking the Sheikh’s urgent attendance in his office. Cressida motioned for him to go, thanking him once more before he disappeared through the door and closed it behind him with a gentle click.
She wandered over to the desk and sat slowly into the buttery soft leather swivel chair behind it. He had thought of her. He had put thought into her comfort beyond what was necessary. It was a strange feeling, having someone else looking out for her.
Placing both hands on the wood, she glanced down and smiled as she noticed the slim mobile handset that had been placed on top of a sheaf of papers. She lifted it, finding it had already been pre-programmed for her ease of use. She sighed with pleasure, hardly knowing where she would begin with all these wonderful gifts. She wondered if he even considered them gifts.
A wind blew gently through the open window, shuffling some of the papers across the desk. She gathered them back, noticing for the first time that they were stamped with the royal Zayyari crest on top in their signature wine and gold leaf design. But when she noticed the signature underneath, her breath caught completely. A feeling strangely like pride filled her chest as she ran her fingers over the ornate lettering, feeling the weight of the words press much further than just her fingertips.
From the desk of Her Royal Highness,
Sheikha Cressida Al Rhas of Zayyar
CHAPTER SEVEN
