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Niesha sat at the head of the table, nodding and making comments where necessary, but he knew her head wasn’t in the game. How could it be, when they were all speaking at once?
Over their heads, her gaze snapped up. Wide amethyst eyes met and locked on his, and something deep and profound moved in his chest. That sensation had also been escalating, confounding him at the oddest moments.
But far too soon, her gaze dropped away from his as she turned to address the man seated to her right. Whatever he was saying to her wasn’t good because after a few minutes she paled a little, even as she nodded.
Enough.
Realising he hadn’t vocalised the word, he spoke again. ‘Enough.’ When he had their attention, he went to Niesha, placed his hand at the back of her chair. ‘Give us the room,’ he ordered, stamping his tone with implacable authority. ‘I wish to speak to my wife in private.’
The councillors looked a little surprised, but one by one they filed out.
‘Thank you. I needed a break,’ Niesha murmured.
‘Then you should’ve asked for one.’ Realising his voice was still brusque, he modified it. ‘This must be overwhelming for you.’
‘Despite their collective age, they’re like a pack of overzealous wolf pups, all with sharp teeth they don’t know can hurt.’
Her description couldn’t have been more accurate. He also remembered that pups grew into adulthood, some into alphas who relished a challenge. ‘The trick is to train them early, show them who’s in charge. Yours doesn’t need to be the loudest voice in the room, but it needs to be the final authority.’
The look she gave him was filled with gratitude. As much as he welcomed it, Zufar yearned for another look. One whose absence made the band around his chest tighter by the day.
‘I need to write these things down, don’t I? To remember them for later.’
‘You won’t need to. You’re their Queen. Leadership was bred into you from birth.’ And soon, if her councillors succeeded, she would take it and herself away from him.
She sighed and lifted a hand to rub her temple. A moment later, she straightened her spine, a resolute look settling on her face.
How could he not have spotted signs of her breeding from the moment they met? Royalty was stamped into every fibre of her being, every drop of her blood.
‘You wanted to talk to me?’
Words eluded him for a moment as the combination of delicate jaw, sensual mouth and alluring eyes flattened him. But he forced himself to focus. He’d cleared the room to give her breathing space but there was another subject that needed discussing. ‘Dr Basim hasn’t told them you’re pregnant. Is he planning on telling them?’
It would be one way to force her quicker return to Rumadah. A risen-from-the-dead queen would please her people. One expecting a royal heir would be euphoric.
He wondered whether it was a card she intended to play.
She laughed. ‘I’ve barely managed to get their names right.’
Her self-effacing response didn’t please him. ‘It’s customary to keep news of pregnancy under wraps for the first trimester,’ he pressed.
She blinked, then rose and went to stand before the floor-to-ceiling windows. Framed against it, she looked almost delicate. But her spine was straight, her resolve absolute. ‘I’ll tell them when I’m ready.’
Relief and the breath he hadn’t realised he held burst through him. She burst it a fraction of a second later.
‘Half of the advisers are returning tomorrow. The other half leave on Friday. They want me to accompany them when they return to Rumadah.’
When had these arrangements been made? While he’d been tuned out, feeling sorry for himself? ‘Friday is three days away,’ he growled. ‘We just returned from our honeymoon. I can’t leave again so soon.’ Especially when he didn’t have an answer on how to stop the freight train he could sense heading his way.
Her lashes swept down, veiling her expression. ‘I understand. I’m sure I’ll be fine on my own,’ she said.
That vice threatened to squeeze every last breath out of him. ‘I see. And how long will you be gone?’
‘Three days. Maybe four.’
The prompt answer froze the blood in his veins. ‘Was that the plan all along?’
Her eyelashes lifted. ‘I beg your pardon?’
