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‘Yourharem?’
‘Of course.’
Ilyas took care of his harem and certainly they only took care of him. The uncomfortable thought of her with his brother resurfaced then. There was a feeling unknown, that burnt at his very core, but it was a feeling he could not name.
For he had never been jealous in his lifetime.
Ilyas had never been driven by the need to possess, for, in general, whatever he wanted he claimed with ease.
Except for the title of king.
But it was not jealousy he felt there, it was more anger about his father’s ways.
He looked at Maggie and tried to explain how his life ran, when he had never cared to explain it before.
‘I must be faithful to my wife.’
‘Must?’ Maggie frowned. ‘You make it sound like a chore.’
‘A future king should not marry for love,’ Ilyas said. ‘In fact, it is frowned upon.’
And as Maggie lay there, bristling with indignation, she recalled the tales told around the fire as Ilyas explained further.
‘We are taught that to marry for love creates a weakness. If you and I were to...’ Again he hesitated, for that was not the example he wanted to give; it revealed that there were feelings. Even as he reluctantly acknowledged their existence, out loud he corrected himself. ‘If there is love, what if that person was taken?’
Maggie stared as he spoke.
‘What might a king relinquish in order to secure her return?’ He waited, but Maggie did not answer. ‘Marriage is a means to provide an heir.’
‘Charming.’
‘I didn’t make the rules,’ Ilyas said. ‘Your friend Suzanne does not understand who she deals with. My father would cut Hazin off rather than pay her a single cent.’
‘She’s not my friend,’ Maggie said, and rolled onto her back and stared up at the billowing ceiling.
She loathed his cold world.
But not him.
‘What about Hazin?’ Maggie asked, thinking back to the time she had spent with his brother and what he had told her. ‘Are the rules the same for him?’
‘He was not born to be king,’ Ilyas answered. ‘And he knows and abuses that fact with appalling regularity.’
‘You do love your brother.’ Maggie smiled for though he spoke with derision she could hear the veiled affection. ‘After all, you are fighting to cover for him.’
‘Leave it,’ Ilyas warned.
The harem he could speak about, but the subject of his brother he closed. Ilyas pulled her back to his arms and they lay looking up at the ceiling that wasn’t so billowing now, and both could hear that the winds were starting to die down.
‘Is it morning?’ Maggie asked.
‘Not yet,’ he told her. ‘But it will be soon—sunrise is almost here.’
‘This time tomorrow I’ll be getting ready to go to the airport,’ Maggie said. ‘Assuming you let me leave.’
‘I shall inform the palace to send a helicopter at midday and you can return to your hostel.’
She would make her flight, Maggie realised, only now she wasn’t so sure that she wanted to. Instead, she wanted the simoom to pick up again, to be lost in his world for just a little while longer, for it was bliss to lie here, being held in his arms.
