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They both looked so young. They had been, then.
Eighteen.
He recalled the time she had died and the grief that had swept through the nation.
His father’s answer?
That Ilyas marry and produce an heir, as if that would appease the people.
He had told his father to allow the people to grieve in their own time. Yet, while wise to the needs of his people, he hadn’t been able to offer the same to Hazin.
They were not close, for they had never been allowed to be close.
They had never really discussed it and the palace had moved on—Petra’s death had become an item on a meeting agenda.
In fact, she was on it today, for the ten-year anniversary was approaching.
Hazin was expected to return for it and to open a new wing at the hospital.
Named after a princess they had been unable to save.
Ilyas saw the guards outside his father’s office and knew that the swords they held were not for decoration. As he awaited the opening of the doors, he drew in a long breath and held it a moment.
Ilyas was ready.
He walked into the meeting and saw Mahmoud present, as well as several palace elders. It was clear that his father had plans for a long meeting.
Well, Ilyas would see about that.
A lifetime of plans in the making were coming to fruition now.
Ilyas took a seat at the large table, facing his father.
First they spoke of international issues and there were plenty of them.
Ilyas held onto his temper as he found out that a fledgling truce with a neighbouring land he had worked hard to broker was now under threat thanks to his father’s poor handling of a trivial incident.
‘They need to be shown,’ King Ahmed said.
Screw you, Ilyas thought, but remained silent for now.
They moved on to more local matters and the protests in town from the tour operators who wanted more desert access.
‘Their livelihoods are threatened,’ the king said. ‘For the sake of a couple of miles of sand we could help them prosper.’
‘No.’ Ilyas spoke. ‘They have asked for more than a couple of miles.’
‘Only to take the elite out,’ his father said. ‘The tourist industry is an important one. The Bedouins have to accept that.’
It was a complex problem, and not for the first time he missed Maggie, for so much more than just her glorious body. It washer, it was Maggie that he missed. Her conversation and discussing issues, a valued person’s slant on things that he had found he needed when he had never thought he would.
And he thought of her now as he spoke.
‘Why don’t we discuss it with them?’ Ilyas suggested.
‘I have met with some of their senior elders—’ Mahmoud started, but Ilyas overrode him.
‘Why is there not a Bedouin representative at this table?’ Ilyas asked. ‘This motion shall be debated in full at a later date and with a senior representative from them at this table. Next item.’
