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CHAPTER THREE
MAGGIEDIDN’TWANTto admit it.
Even to herself.
But, after all the effort to get here, the much-awaited star-gazing trip wasn’t all she had hoped it would be.
Unlike everything else she had experienced here in Zayrinia, the trip to the desert had proved more than a little touristy.
In truth, the journeydeep into the deserthad taken less than an hour and that allowed for all the time it had taken to mount and dismount from their camels.
‘At the wishes of the Bedouins,’ one of the guides explained, ‘we are forbidden from going any further.’
A couple complained rather loudly but the guide explained that there was nothing that could be done.
Yet.
‘We have put in several formal requests for the law to be changed,’ he said. ‘The final decision rests with the king.’
Having lined up and been served dinner, the group had sat on rugs by a huge fire and watched belly dancers as the sun had started to set.
But as the sun dimmed, so too did the hopes of a night of stargazing. The sky was overcast and the visibility was low due to the gathering sandstorm in the east.
It was still rather spectacular, though.
The sand and dust carried by the wind turned the tiny new moon pale crimson and Maggie watched, awestruck, as it drifted behind and then peeked out of the huge rolling clouds.
The tales around the campfire were interesting too, and the guide used his hands as he told expressive tales.
‘Beneath the palace there is a river where, to this day, the water runs red. It marks the spot where a young prince was denied marriage to his lover and died of a broken heart.’ Maggie was wide-eyed.
‘Since then,’ the guide told them, ‘the crown prince does not court. Love is for lesser mortals. A king must think only with his head.’
‘Does the water really run red?’ asked a woman to the side of Maggie, but the guide had moved on to another tale.
‘The palace is built on the ruins of what once was a harem,’ he explained. ‘The concubines feasted and rested until summoned by a bell. There were many wild and decadent times but it was considered far safer than allowing a virile prince loose in the land with his heart. It is said that the winds that are heard at night are, in fact, the sounds of debauchery carrying across time...’
And the winds were starting to gather.
The campfire tales were halted and the guides gathered in a confab. Maggie guessed they were deciding if the trip should simply be cancelled. But then the annoying couple loudly pointed out that in the event of adverse weather conditions a full refund would be given.
The tour would go ahead!
People were soon being guided to their designated sleeping areas but Maggie continued to stand by the fire. Beyond it was a huge canyon and atop that the outline of the palace. She thought of days long gone and the stories of long-dead royals who were given everything except for love.
Even without stars, Zayrinia, Maggie decided, was beautiful beyond words.
‘Suzanne!’
Maggie only turned when the name was called for a third time and only because of the impatient tone, but then she realised the summons was aimed at her.
Ah, yes, for tonight, she was Suzanne.
The organiser waved her over and gestured to the area that would be Maggie’s home until sunrise.
It was a small, tented area, with a simple mattress where she could either lie and continue to view the night sky or, as was strongly suggested, she could pull the canopy over.
Maggie nodded and thanked him. Refusing to give in just yet, she kept the canopy open, and kicking off her shoes bedded down for what remained of the night.
