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He busied himself tethering the horse to the edge of a building and when he turned back to Chloe, she was herself again. Outwardly, at least.
“This settlement was built on a small spring – any of these places were. It was the only way they could survive out here.”
“It’s remarkable.”
“Yes.” He put a hand in the small of her back, guiding her forward and she inhaled deeply, breathing him in, reveling in the small contact.
“When was it built?”
“Some of the foundations date back to the twelfth century--,”
“So old?”
“Yes. Here, look.” He crouched down so Chloe had to use every ounce of willpower to ignore the way his powerful legs flexed, the way his body was athletic even in this simple motion. He scraped away some of the scrambling vines and tapped a dark stone. “This is Sharni rock, quarried from about twenty miles in that direction.”
“How on earth did they get it here?”
“How did they build the pyramids?” His eyes held Chloe’s so her stomach lurched and she looked away.
He stood, dusting his hands on the front of his pants. “Most of what you see though was built in the seventeenth century. It was a thriving community – a halfway point between the old city and the sea – where modern Qadim is. Trade thrived because there was a constant stream of travelers, moving south.”
“It’s amazing. I had no idea.”
He turned to look at her. “That’s my fault. I have not taken the time to educate you in the ways of my – our – people, as I should have. I expected you to love this country because I do, without making any effort to show you what is so unique about us, as a people.”
Her heart crashed into her ribs. “I do love Ras el Kida. I do love our people.”
“That is a reflection on the goodness of your heart.”
She bit down on her lip as she fell into step beside him. If only he knew! If only he knew how much she loved his country, his people… and him.
If only he knew that she was kept awake at night worrying that she wouldn’t be able to give him what he, and his people, needed most of all. And how, in her darkest moments, she chased that doubt down a deep, cloying rabbit hole of despair.
Only the knowledge that Amit was a viable heir kept her from pure panic.
“This was a lodging house,” he said, gesturing to a hole in the side of a building. She didn’t know if it had been destroyed by human hands, or the winds of time and this inhospitable desert, but the hole took up half of the building.
“Is it safe to go in?”
He nodded. “Engineers inspect the ruins each year, reinforcing any elements that are weakening. It’s an important part of our heritage; future generations should have an opportunity to see them for themselves.”
“So other people come here?”
“There are ruins in the East and North that are open to the public. These are on palace land. For security reasons, they’re kept empty most of the time.”
“I had no idea palace land stretched so far.”
“Much of this desert,” he said with a nod. “My father reduced it as much as was possible, but there is a great sense of pride in the palace and the heritage that accompanies it.”
She moved inside the ruin and drew in a breath. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been this.
“There’s furniture in here!” She said excitedly. “And carpets. Oh, the most beautiful carpets.” She moved to one that was hanging on the wall, a rich burgundy with gold threads, an intricate pattern almost like water made when reflecting on a ceiling. “It’s stunning. Surely this should be in a museum?”
“This is a museum, of sorts. Look at how you felt, stepping into thi
s other world.”
“It’s like walking into the past,” she murmured with a small nod, going from room to room, marveling at the enormous cushions that were scattered on the floor, tables made of dark timber, copper drinking vessels and shishas, and in the corner, a sita.
