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‘Come on, Kal,’ she said, passing Wahed, who looked a little as if he were about to explode.
Khalif was so busy processing the fact that this woman knew the first name of his security guard, whilst simultaneously calculating the number of royal codes of etiquette she had broken simply by touching him, that he did nothing to stop her from marching him halfway towards the fire exit that was for staff use only. But, even if he hadn’t been, Khalif could not be one hundred per cent sure that he would have dislodged her tiny pale hand from his elbow. It was so small and delicate he feared he might break it.
He was still staring at it as they drew closer to Wahed, as if by studying the delicate fingers splayed across his forearm a second longer he’d be able to identify just why it was that something so small was sending enough electric currents across his skin to light the city of Burami for a month. And that was when he realised that it was the first physical contact he’d had with another person in nearly six weeks.
Obviously Khalif had not been under the naïve impression that he’d be able to continue his romantic liaisons while being first in line to the throne, but he’d not expected the strange social distancing effect the position would hold. Where once he’d have been able to slap Jamal on the back as he’d mocked him about his wife, now there was the painfully awkward renegotiation of power that still didn’t quite sit right with him. And where once he’d have been more than able to remove the tiny pale hand from his elbow, now he seemed entirely incapable.
Wahed hadn’t taken his eyes from Khalif, eyes that had grown rounder and wider the closer they came, sweat breaking out on the man’s forehead as he clearly tried to figure out how to get his country’s Prince out of the hands of this flame-haired pixie-sized bombshell.
‘Goodnight, Wahed,’ Star said as they drew level. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she stated.
The look of panic increased on Wahed’s features and Khalif had to look away in case he laughed and shamed the man even more.
‘Tomorrow?’ the guard asked weakly.
‘Oh, yes, I’ve only covered the first part of the exhibition. I have three more parts to explore over the next three days,’ she said, throwing the words over her shoulder.
‘You’re going to explore the exhibition for three more days...?’
Khalif couldn’t be sure, but he was half convinced he’d heard an actual whimper from Wahed, who was now staring after them as Star continued to guide him towards the exit.
Unable to help it any more, Khalif allowed the tug on his lips to form a full grin and his chest filled with the need to laugh. It bubbled up, filling his lungs and pushing outwards, and he felt lighter than he had in weeks. Months even. Years... The thought was a pin pressed into a balloon as he realised it was how he had felt before. Before his brother had died.
‘Did you like it?’ she asked, having turned around, looking up at him and squinting in the late afternoon sun. She’d managed to get them out into the staff courtyard, where he saw Jamal peering at them through the window of the security suite.
‘Like what?’ he said, shaking his head to Jamal to signal that he didn’t need their help.
‘The exhibition,’ she said, laughing again, as if she were half laughing at him and half with him. That sound, so light, so carefree, caught him like a physical blow. He was almost jealous of it. Her hand was still at the crook of his arm and he knew that he really needed to remove it, but he just couldn’t bring himself to yet.
‘Well, I don’t want to give anything away. You still have quite a bit to cover.’
Rather than being disappointed by his answer, she seemed excited.
‘Perfect! Please don’t. I like surprises.’
Her face, upturned to the lazy yellow lowering sun, was a picture. Despite the expectation of green suggested by the red hair that was still just about tucked behind her headscarf, her eyes were blue—the dark blue of dusk.
‘Star,’ he said, understanding dawning on him.
‘Yes?’
‘No, sorry. I...’
I am never tongue-tied.
Pull. Yourself. Together.
‘It’s an unusual name,’ he clarified.
She looked at him as if she could tell that wasn’t what he’d intended to say. As if she could somehow sense things about him that he didn’t want to share. That strange dusky blue of her irises seemed almost prescient. The dusting of freckles across her nose fanned out over her cheeks as if she’d been flecked with gold. He found himself leaning down towards her as if subconsciously trying to take a closer look, as if he was trying to count the freckles, as if there was something he was trying to work out about her but didn’t know what.
‘Yes. Even in England. And Kal?’
‘It’s...an old nickname.’ It had only been used by his brother and Samira. He’d not said it or heard it for three years.
If she’d noticed that he hadn’t answered her implied question and revealed the whole of his name she didn’t seem offended by it. She turned to look beyond the railings surrounding the staff exit to the palace and frowned.
‘I think perhaps this wasn’t the exit,’ she said as she finally let go of his arm and took a step towards the road that ran the length of the capital city.
