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“What for?” Joanna was visibly suspicious.
“I’ll explain later. Will you lend it or not?”
Less than a minute later, and Anisah was running straight back into the crowd, her identity now effectively concealed under the layers of silk of her friend’s niqab. The queen was sobbing now, begging for her personal guards not to involve themselves, and the sound wrenched Anisah’s heart.
“Khayin!” Traitor!
Anisah saw one of the protesters rushing forward from the sides, a large rock in his raised hand. He started to take aim, and a horrified cry escaped her when she realized where he had set his sights.
“Your Majesty, duck!”
The queen, recognizing her court tutor’s voice, instinctively crouched down, and her guards, alerted by the words, immediately raised their swords in defense. Farid was the first one to see the rock hurled at his queen and deflected it with his blade, causing it to change direction and strike one of the protesters. The man cried out as he touched his bleeding forehead.
First blood.
A cry of outrage rose from the mob, the sight inciting rage and unleashing madness, and a moment later—-
Red.
The color of violence, of fear, of death—-
Of war winning over peace—-
Anisah pulled her own dagger from the hidden strap under her skirt. She would not stand by and do nothing. She would defend her queen, even if it meant sacrificing her own life.
****
Two months ago
“Stop.” At Sheikh Tarif Al-Atassi’s command, the technician immediately hit Pause, and tense silence reigned in the palace’s war room as the digital screen spanning the entire wall displayed a woman wearing a distinct-looking niqab of silver silk suspended mid-action, skirt raised up to her knees, and her fingers wrapped around the dagger she was about to unsheathe.
Andy, the palace’s newly hired technician (and ex-inmate), knew he had no business being intimidated, but he was. ‘Tall, dark, handsome’ was a phrase oft used to describe the five Al-Atassi sheikhs in the room with him, and prior to marrying his foreigner wife, moving to Ramil, and becoming employed at the palace, Andy had secretly thought that was all there was to the kingdom’s most powerful sheikhs.
He had met a good number of wealthy men during his former career as a hacker, and all of them had been one of three things: idiots, assholes, or both. He had thought the Al-Atassi sheikhs would be exactly like them...until of course he had found himself joining the king and his cabinet of vassals in a closed-door meeting at the palace’s war room.
And that was that, Andy thought with a silent gulp, the memories of his first meeting with the sheikhs still more than enough to make him quail inside with fear. There had been Altair, the ex-assassin sheikh whose scarred face only made him more terrifying. There was Rayyan, the sheikh who seemed to have ice in his veins, with his unflinching ability to make decisions that would have made grown men cry. There was Malik, the one who had his pulse on all of the world’s greatest innovations, and of course there was the king, whose patriotic resolve was reminiscent of Arthur’s love for Camelot.
And then of course there was Tarif.
Tarif Al-Atassi, the kingdom’s so-called playboy sheikh, was what the modern world considered the ‘fan favorite’ because of the roguishly charming demeanor he always presented to the public. Of the five Al-Atassi sheikhs, Tarif best fit the bill of Prince Charming, and so the masses’ adulation of him was unparalleled—-
And that, in many ways, was what made him the most dangerous of the five, Andy thought. Tarif had the art of deception perfected. He was so skilled in manipulating people that he could have opposing sides salivating to kiss his ass without either of them knowing they were already being controlled. One moment the sheikh would smile at you, the next thing you knew the sheikh would have stabbed you at—-
“Andy.”
The technician shot up straight in his seat at Sheikh Tarif’s voice.
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“Can you zoom in on the woman’s weapon?” The technician hurried to do his bidding, and Tarif’s gaze narrowed as he took note of the drawing engraved on the dagger’s gold-and-silver hilt. His knowledge of weaponry might not be equal to Altair, the kingdom’s Commander of Armed Forces, but even Tarif knew what the woman held in her hand was no ordinary knife.
And when he looked at his cousin, Altair’s curt nod confirmed his suspicion.
“Zoom in a bit more,” Altair commanded.
Andy did as asked, and as the writing on the hilt became legible, Tarif noted the way Altair and his younger brother Malik simultaneously stiffened in recognition.
Having observed the same unusual reaction, Khalil asked, “You recognize the weapon then?”
