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Queen Durrah’s beautiful face settled into thoughtfulness. “Honestly, I expected Tahira’s betrayal to entrench him even more firmly behind the walls he erected so many years ago. I am very happy to be wrong.”
*
Liyah paced her suite, having just returned from late-morning tea with Queen Durrah.
Who, despite her royal status and very definitive views on propriety, had turned out to be both likable and kind. And very much interested in her son’s happiness.
Liyah had been astonished by the warm reception she’d received from both the king and queen. She threatened their well-ordered existence and Liyah’s presence could do nothing but add to issues caused by Tahira’s defection.
Yet both the monarchs had treated Liyah with nothing but respect. The king was a little more standoffish, but she didn’t find that surprising. The fact he treated Liyah like a welcome guest to the royal palace did.
Queen Durrah had gone one step farther and taken pains to spend time each day with Liyah, however. Sayed’s mother seemed intent on developing a friendship with the hotel employee her son had temporarily plucked out of obscurity.
The melecha had managed to ferret out the details of Liyah’s estrangement from her Amari relatives in the mere two days since her arrival in Zeena Sahra. A very restful person with a smile very similar to her son’s, Queen Durrah had found her way into Liyah’s affections almost as quickly as Sayed had.
His mother had unequivocally denounced the actions of Liyah’s relatives, remarking that someone needed to speak to them and bring them to awareness of the error of their ways.
The rather fervid gleam in Queen Durrah’s amber gaze had given Liyah pause, but thankfully no rapprochement with the Amaris had been attempted.
Not that a queen would bother herself with the personal affairs of someone like Liyah, but for a moment there…well, Liyah had worried.
A knock sounded on the suite’s door and she quickly pulled up the beautiful hijab that matched the pale green silk dishdasha she wore. The emerald-green embroidery around the hem and over her bodice was the exact shade as the chiffon of the hijab.
Liyah had never felt so feminine and pretty as she did since coming to Zeena Sahra. Gone were her conservative suits and boring white blouses, replaced by dishdasha gowns and kameez in vibrant colors Liyah never would have chosen for herself.
But she liked them. A lot.
She’d always dressed plainly, in clothes that did nothing to accentuate her feminine curves. While the traditional dishdashas and kameez were considered more modest than western clothing, the long dresses and long tunic-style tops with matching pants Liyah had found in her wardrobe were cut to emphasize the fact she was a woman.
The swish of silk that accompanied her every movement further increased her sense of femininity.
Not that Sayed had noticed. He hadn’t had an opportunity to because she hadn’t seen him for even the briefest glimpse in the past forty-eight hours. During the one dinner she’d shared with his parents, he hadn’t been there.
At her own request, she ate breakfast alone in her room and lunch in the harem garden. But if he had invited her to share one of those meals with him, she would have been happy to do so.
Liyah wasn’t surprised at the neglect. She’d seen Sayed’s war within himself on the day of her arrival. She thought he might be the one person of her acquaintance less willing to give in to emotions than she was.
Adjusting the hijab, she pulled the door open and found a familiar face on the other side. “Abdullah-Hasiba! Come in.”
Liyah stepped back to let the older woman into her suite, but Hasiba shook her head.
Her expression did not reflect Liyah’s delight in their renewed acquaintance. “My melecha has requested your presence.”
“Yes, of course,” Liyah replied.
Hasiba spun on her heel, walking away without another word and Liyah’s happiness deflated as quickly as it had come.
She followed the longtime family retainer in silence, saddened by the clear end to a friendship with a woman she admired.
Hasiba stopped outside a familiar set of double doors, one of many in the palace complex she’d discovered. “My melecha awaits you inside.”
Liyah nodded, unable to speak. Why she should react so strongly to this small rejection when she’d faced much worse ones, she didn’t know, but the loss of Hasiba’s regard hurt.
Hasiba huffed, like she was annoyed, which she probably was.
Liyah reached for the door handle but the older woman’s hand beat hers, covering the brass knob. “You took advantage of my emir.”
“I didn’t.” Liyah had no defense but the truth.
