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‘I don’t understand what is so funny,’ he said, trying hard to keep hold of his anger. She made it too easy to breathe sometimes. Too hard not to laugh with her. And for the first time in three years he questioned why that was a bad thing.
‘Just take the roller and get into that spot,’ she ordered like a military general. He looked down at his clothes. ‘Afraid of getting dirty?’ she taunted.
‘Well, you’re clearly not.’
‘No,’ she said, smiling as she looked down at the splashes of paint across her trousers and forearms. ‘They’re just clothes that prove how much I’m enjoying myself.’
She had a spatter of paint on her cheek and he itched to smooth it from her skin, but didn’t. Instead, he agreed to do the area she indicated, despite the fact that he was already late for a video conference with his staff.
Colour started to appear on the walls over the next few days and Star now had him completely bent to her will. When he’d asked how she knew about dismantling furniture or checking walls for electrics, let alone the mind-boggling range of fillers, sealants, sandpaper sheets and blocks, she’d said something about a man from her sister’s job showing them how to fix certain issues in the flat. And when he’d drilled through the wall and taken out a chunk of plaster he’d been half terrified—not that he would have admitted it on pain of death. But she’d only laughed at him and told him that fixing mistakes was the best and only way to learn.
That evening, Star finally managed to get him to open up about the memorial, but instead of questioning his plans, she asked him more about Faizan and Samira. What they were like, what made them laugh, what made them angry. He was recounting a time when Samira had smoothed over ruffled feathers at an embassy ball, when he remembered the nickname they’d given her that night:jisr. Because she’d bridged the gap between ideas, people, countries.
‘And what do Nadya and Nayla think?’
He looked at her. ‘Think of what?’
‘The memorial.’
‘They’re six years old.’
‘Yes. Six—not three, not one. Six-year-olds can even generally feed themselves.’
He glared at her teasing, feeling angry and awkward.
She paused, the teasing tone melting away. ‘No one asked them?’
He shook his head, not quite sure why he felt so ashamed.
What do Nadya and Nayla think?
It was now almost midnight and he couldn’t get those words to stop spinning in his mind. He hated to think that he might have contributed to a sense that his nieces’ grief was something to be denied, or ignored. As if his own, his parents’ or the nation’s grief was somehow more important than theirs. Unable to shake that sense of overwhelming guilt and shame, he knew that hehadto return to Burami. He needed to see his nieces. And at the same time he just might be able to retrieve the necklace for Star. The need became so overwhelming, he felt as if demons were chasing at his heels. He had to leave—now.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THEFIRSTTIMEthat Star had made a list of things she needed and left it in her room for the invisible staff to collect, she’d been surprised to find that it actually worked... That within twenty-four hours, forty-eight at the absolute most, her exact wishes were fulfilled. Out in the middle of the desert.
She tried to stay awake one night to see if she could hear the sounds of Jeeps or even helicopters bringing the materials she needed, but nothing. They just appeared as if by Christmas magic when she needed them. Which wasn’t helping Star’s determination not to live in her dream world any more. They were human staff, not fairy godmothers, and she was sure that the spontaneously appearing materials had more to do with Khalif being a prince than the staff having any magical powers.
The fact that Khalif was royalty still didn’t feel real. Yes, he behaved like a prince and there were as many glimpses of spoilt stubbornness as there were of grief and loss, but in the last few days she’d felt as if they’d been talking. Really talking. Building something, so that perhaps if she was pregnant it might not be so terrible. That perhaps having a child with Khalif could be her own happy-ever-after?
After her morning shower, Star crossed to the living area, hoping to find the bronze gold paint she wanted to use for the finishing touches across the girls’ bathroom ceiling, so when she first saw the note that had been thrust under the door she assumed it was from the staff, apologising for not being able to track it down.
She was already thinking of other ways to achieve the look she was hoping for when she caught sight of the scrawled K at the bottom and her heart leapt.
It was only because she was distracted, she told herself later, that the thought that it might be a love letter crept into her mind. That was where her mind had been so that when she opened the thick cartridge paper she had to read it over three times before she could make out the message.
Which essentially boiled down to a quick apology for having to return to Burami. He’d be back as soon as he could.
Unconsciously she rubbed at the ache in her chest, telling herself that she was silly to have got her hopes up. To be thankful for the reminder that although he was a prince he was made of flesh and blood, not ink and paper and imagination. This wasn’t a fairy tale romance. He was important and had been called away, and it wasn’t reasonable to expect that he could have woken her up to let her know.
She arrived in Nadya and Nayla’s suite to assess what still needed to be done. The bathroom was beautiful. Star knew it was a silly thing to get excited over, but it really was. This was where she had seen the touches Samira had planned most, the bronze gold taps and the antique glass panels. It was a faded beauty, but regal. There was an enormous roll top bath, only marginally outmatched by a shower unit dotted with pale pink tiles that matched the soft natural plaster that ran through the entire palace. But it was the midnight-blue that called to her. The depth and richness of the paint that had been chosen by Samira seemed as endless as the night sky. And when the bronze gold paint arrived she would cover the ceiling in stars. Large, small and everything in between. She sighed, hoping that it would come soon.
Star left the bathroom and walked back into the central living area to the project she had enjoyed almost as much, knowing that she could work on this until the gold paint arrived. She had kept Khalif away from this part of the room, wanting it to be a surprise. Wanting to see the look on his face when he saw the tree. When the girls saw...
She swallowed. It was quite likely that she wouldn’t be there when the girls saw all this. Her throat thickened and she blinked back the damp sheen in her eyes.
No matter. It wasn’t about her. It was about them. And they would know and see how much love had gone into this. And knowing that their uncle had helped would make it even more special for them.
