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“I have to get back to the palace.”
She pouts, lifting a hand to push back her hair from her brow. Her shirt lifts to reveal her midriff. I return to my task, more focussed than ever.
“Right away?”
“Yes.”
“You’re cross?”
I sigh, standing. “No.”
“Then what…”
“I have a country to run.” The words are unintentionally sharp. I soften them with effort. “I can’t hide out here in the desert indefinitely, Amy.”
Her eyes narrow. “It’s been two nights. You said we’d come for three.”
“Do you want to stay here another night?” I prompt, knowing pride will stop her from answering in the affirmative.
Sure enough, her eyes drop to the bed, her teeth gnawing at her lower lip. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”
Amy
The desert has been a reprieve. An oasis in every sense of the word, a break from the hatred I swore I’d always feel for Zahir. A hatred that’s a part of my soul, because of what he did to my dad. I wish I didn’t feel it. I realise, as he drives us away from the tent in the middle of nowhere, that I want to like my husband. On some level, I do like him, but when I think of dad, it all disappears. I can’t forgive him, and I need to remember that. My hands clasp tight in my lap once more.
He’s tense too. The further we get from the tent in the desert, the more I feel his mood changing, his hands tightening on the wheel until his knuckles are white. When the palace is in sight, still a geometric shape on the distant horizon, my phone begins to buzz.
I open my bag, lifting it out to see a slew of phone notifications – several voicemails. I click into one, and gasp when I hear my dad’s voice.
“Amy, what in God’s name have you done? Tell me the news has somehow got it wrong? You said you were in Europe, not Qabid. And to have thrown yourself into the orbit of someone like him? Call me back, immediately. I need to know you’re all right.”
My heart turns over in my chest at dad’s obvious concern.
The next message is more of the same.
The third is more frantic still. “Amy, I have no idea where you are. Not at the palace, I gather, so where? Nobody knows. I’m worried. Call me.”
I hang up the phone quickly, all the heat draining from my face.
“What is it?”
How does Zahir know? How can he tell something’s wrong?
I shake my head, anxiety making it impossible to tell him. “How long until we’re back?”
He looks towards the horizon. “Twenty minutes.”
I nod uneasily. I’ll call him once we’ve arrived. In private, so I can explain.
“Amy?”
I wait silently.
“You’re a terrible liar. Tell me what’s happened.”
“Nothing’s happened,” I murmur. “It’s just –,”
“Yes?”
