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And so it began. Once they were seated at two enormous, elaborate thrones made of gold and black metal, she’d heard the din from the external doors of the palace. A sense of fear and awe filled her when the doors were thrown open, but there was no stampede. An orderly queue had formed, and she learned, when they’d taken a small break to eat lunch, that security screening had been implemented, for the first time in the rukbar’s history, on the other side of the doors. Because of her?
Undoubtedly.
She’d seen his determination to keep her safe. For a moment that lifted her spirits until she remembered that her value, at this point, had more to do with her child than it did her.
She couldn’t dwell on her own fracturing heart though. Not when the room was filling with people who were, so obviously, doing it tough.
Sariq listened patiently to each who came before him, offering a brief summary of each situation to Daisy in English once they’d finished speaking. Each story was hard—some were almost impossible to bear. Parents who’d lost children touched her the deepest of all. There were no medical bills here, the state provided, but there were other concerns. The cost of the funeral, the legacy of caring for other children while too grief-stricken to return to work.
Daisy felt tears filling her eyes on a number of occasions but worked hard not to show how deeply affected she was by these tragedies.
As the afternoon progressed though, she grew tired, her heart heavy, her mind exploding. And through it all, Sariq continued, looking as fresh as he had that morning, his concentration unwavering. She turned towards Zahrah, who immediately appeared at her side.
‘Do you need something, Your Highness?’
‘Just a little water.’
‘Of course.’
Sariq turned to her, from the other side, and Malik paused proceedings. ‘Are you okay?’
It was such a ludicrous question that she almost laughed. Okay? Would she ever be okay again? Did she even deserve to lament such a question in the face of so much suffering? ‘I’m fine.’ A bright smile and then a nod. ‘Just thirsty.’
His eyes roamed her face, his expression unconvinced. ‘You’re pale.’
‘I’m American.’
His impatience was obvious. ‘Paler than usual.’
‘I’m fine.’ She couldn’t say why she sounded angry at him, because she wasn’t. Her anger was all directed at herself and her own stupidity for falling in love with a man who was so completely determined to be unavailable. ‘Let’s keep going. It sounds like there are still a tonne of people to see.’
And there were. The line c
ontinued until the sun set. ‘Traditionally, this is when the rukbar concludes. Food is served in the adjoining room. I usually join the guests for a short time. You do not have to.’
‘Of course I will,’ she insisted, despite the fact she was bone-weary. Pride wouldn’t let her show it. ‘But do you have to stop now? There are people out there who’ve waited all day.’
His eyes clung to hers and then he nodded. ‘Ten more.’
As Malik turned to the crowd to announce what the Sheikh had decided, Sariq leaned closer. ‘Those that were not seen today will be given tickets for the next rukbar, so they’re seen first. And any that feel they cannot wait have an email address to use to have their matter dealt with more speedily.’
That appeased her. The whole day had been eye-opening and fascinating. She felt, sitting beside Sariq, as though she was truly getting to know the fabric of this country. There was no hostility towards her—a divorced American. In fact, it was quite the opposite. People had been unstintingly kind, curious, polite.
Another hour stretched and then the rukbar was declared closed. Daisy was a little woozy when she stood, swaying slightly so that those in the room gasped and Sariq shot out a hand to steady her.
‘I’m fine,’ she said through a tight smile. ‘Just not used to sitting down for so long.’ He didn’t relinquish his touch though, and her skin burned at the contact, her body throbbed, that same fire ignited, stealing through her soul. He guided her down the steps, away from the thrones, towards doors that led to another room.
‘You should go to your room.’
Her gaze shifted. ‘Is that an order?’
She saw the way his jaw tightened, and felt the battle raging within him. ‘It’s a suggestion.’
‘Then I politely decline.’
He didn’t like that, it was obvious. It wasn’t fair to be angry with him. He’d done nothing wrong, nothing whatsoever. All along he’d been honest with her. Loving him was her fault, her problem. And yet she did feel anger towards him, because it simply wasn’t fair. How could her heart be full to bursting and his determinedly empty?
‘Daisy—’
