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Then, as if to prove how busy he was, a very distinguished-looking gentleman approached. ‘Your Highness.’
He was far more polite than the queen had been, and when he saw Maggie he spoke in English. He introduced himself as Mahmoud, the king’s advisor, and then he turned to Ilyas and explained that the king was considering speaking with some leaders and diplomats about the tourists. ‘I really think it would be beneficial if you were the one to reach out...’
‘Of course,’ Ilyas responded. ‘Could you give me a moment, Mahmoud?’
The man bowed and then backed off.
‘You shall be looked after,’ Ilyas said. ‘You have been given a suite in the west wing and I have asked that Kumu take care of you. She speaks English. If you would prefer to return to the hostel, though, I completely understand...’
‘I’m free to leave?’ she checked.
It would be so much easier on him if she did.
So much easier on Ilyas for Maggie to storm out now and never look back.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘You are free to go.’
‘Well, in that case...’ Maggie smiled, glad to have the choice to leave and the luxury of the choice to remain. ‘I might just hang around.’
Damn.
* * *
Kumu was warm and friendly as she showed Maggie to her suite. It was quite simply stunning, with a formal lounge area and then a large bedroom with French windows that opened up to a balcony that had a view of the desert from which she had just come.
Nothing was too much trouble.
In fact, her belongings had been brought over from the hostel and had all been beautifully laundered. Her clothes, which had seen better days thanks to living out of a backpack, were now all pressed and hanging up. ‘I shall pack for you this evening,’ Kumu said. ‘Would you like to wear a robe to fly home in?’
Maggie was about to decline but then Kumu added, ‘His Royal Highness shall be coming to say farewell in the morning.’
‘A robe would be lovely,’ Maggie agreed.
She was actually thrilled to know that she would have a little keepsake to remind her of her time here.
Left alone, she removed her jewelled slippers and was about to walk out to the balcony and tip out the sand when she halted.
Maggie went through her backpack and found an old envelope where she had collected menus and tickets and such things.
She pulled them out and then took off her slippers, tipping the small bit of sand into the paper, even gathering a little that she spilled from it on the floor. Then she licked the envelope and sealed within it her tiny memento of the desert.
Of course, she needed no real reminders.
How could she ever forget?
* * *
If ever there was a perfect end to a holiday then Maggie knew she had found it.
After a light lunch she was given an insider’s tour of the palace. Maggie had seen it from the plane and its outline from the desert, but nothing could have prepared her for its internal beauty.
The palace was its own mini city, Kumu explained as she took her through stunning gardens, lush with flowers and water displays, and into a very modern compound. There were offices and kitchens, though there were separate ones for the workers and royals. ‘And guests.’ Kumu smiled. ‘You shall select from the same menu as the queen tonight.’
‘Do the royals come to this part?’ Maggie asked, hoping for a glimpse of Ilyas, but Kumu shook her head.
‘Not really.’
They left the compound and Maggie was led to the ornate bridge she had walked across with Ilyas. But whereas Ilyas had strode ahead, Kumu took her time.
