‘I informed you that Miss Darvill had complete authority in all matters pertaining to the sickness, did I not?’
‘Yes, Highness.’
‘And that as my Royal Horse Surgeon, she has the right, in such matters, to expect your full and unquestioning co-operation?’ Rafiq said, his tone as sharp now as the glittering blade of the scimitar he wore at his waist, making Jasim flinch, as if he had been stabbed. ‘If I hear that you have questioned her instructions again, you will face the consequences. Do you understand me, Jasim?’
‘Highness.’
‘Then what are you waiting for? Take us to see the mare.’
‘Highness.’ Stephanie’s voice startled them both. ‘I think it would be best if I—there is no need for you to be present, Your Highness.’
She had spoken in Arabic, having no desire to set Jasim further against her by imagining her plotting with his master, but she begged him with her eyes. Rafiq hesitated for a long moment. ‘I sincerely hope you know what you are doing,’ he said in English, before heading out of the courtyard and into the palace.
Turning, Stephanie caught Jasim unawares. His expression was venomous, which was no surprise, but it was the fact that he made no attempt to disguise it that made her heart sink. No point in countering his animosity with flattery, a technique she had used effectively in the past. This man, whom she had never even met before, was already her sworn enemy, and she had better not forget it.
‘What are you waiting for?’ she demanded curtly, deliberately using Rafiq’s words. ‘I want to see Anadil, and I want to know exactly what happened. To have developed the symptoms and deteriorated so badly in the few hours of my absence is contrary to all previous patterns of this sickness.’
* * *
The reason for Anadil’s premature demise was clear the moment Stephanie walked into the loose box, though she could see that Fadil was doing his best to clear up the evidence. ‘On whose orders was this horse bled?’ she demanded.
‘Mine.’ Jasim stared at her boldly, with not a trace of repentance. ‘I returned to find the mare gravely ill. You were not here, and so I acted. In all conscience, I could not stand by and do nothing.’
‘By doing nothing, we saved Batal. Had I been consulted, doing nothing would have been what I would have instructed.’ Stephanie glanced at Fadil, but the Head Groom merely shrugged apologetically and continued with his work. Fadil, and every other man in the stables, knew that Batal had survived because he had neither been bled nor subjected to any other treatment. He must have told Jasim so, and yet Jasim had gone his own way regardless.
‘What else did you submit this poor animal to?’ Stephanie demanded.
‘Since we have not yet found an effective combination of treatments, I tried a new variation,’ Jasim replied.
He addressed this remark, as he had addressed his previous ones, to a point over her shoulder. Stephanie was torn. Anadil was beyond suffering, what was the point in torturing herself with the knowledge of what she had endured, especially when her examination would serve to antagonise the man responsible? But even as she hesitated, she heard Papa’s voice. She must see for herself the effects of this sickness, and try to find something, anything, which would help her with the next case.
She asked Fadil to provide her with a bucket of warm water and a bar of strong soap. Having done so, the Head Groom left, looking visibly relieved to make his escape from the tension in the stall.
Stephanie rolled up the sleeves of her tunic, and prepared to discover for herself what had transpired. She took her time, conscious of Jasim’s malevolent presence attending her every move, and the flitting, curious stares of various of the other stable hands passing the open doorway. When she was done, she made a point of closing the door to the loose box.
‘You were made aware that Batal survived the sickness?’ she asked, leaning against the door, feeling distinctly like a boxer preparing to enter the ring.
‘A mule. Hardly of any consequence, or indeed relevance. It may not even have been the same illness.’
Stephanie’s hackles rose, but she spoke carefully. Jasim was one of those men who habitually riled in order to gain an advantage. ‘There was no doubt. Prince Rafiq will confirm that.’
‘Prince Rafiq is a man at the end of his tether. That is why he has been forced to resort to appointing...’
He did not finish his sentence, but the gesture he made left her in no doubt. Stephanie slowly unrolled her sleeves. She took her time gathering up her instruments from the bucket of water in which they had been steeping. Only when Jasim turned his back, making for the door, did she speak. ‘I have some questions I would like answered, before you go.’ He ignored her, his hand reaching for the latch. ‘Very well. I will ask Fadil instead,’ she said.
‘Fadil takes his orders from me.’
‘And Prince Rafiq has made it plain that regarding the sickness, you take your orders from me.’ Stephanie pulled herself up to her full height, which still, infuriatingly, required her to look up. ‘Let me speak plainly, Jasim, while there is no one else present. I will not step on your toes if you do not step on mine. I will not interfere with your running of the stables unnecessarily, but I will not tolerate you interfering with my tending to the Prince’s sick animals. Ultimately, we are working to the same goal. If I cannot cure this sickness, your horses will not race in the Sabr.’
She refrained from pointing out that she was here because Jasim himself had been unable to effect a cure, but she could see he was thinking it, and that it pained him greatly. ‘I understand how difficult this must be for you, but this sickness, it is something quite new. You must not blame yourself.’
She had made a tactical error by letting her compassion show. It had also been a mistake to assume that he was merely pained by his failure. Jasim spat on to the straw at her feet. ‘How dare you presume to know anything of me? You, a woman, whose very presence in these stables is an insult. How dare you tell me how to treat a horse when you, the Royal Horse Surgeon, were not even present when the sickness first struck Anadil?’
Stephanie caught herself as her head almost dropped at this barb. ‘No, I wasn’t,’ she said so vehemently that Jasim took an automatic step backwards. ‘But it takes many hours for the sickness to kill. My instructions were very clear. If there was any sign, I was to be summoned immediately.’
‘Those orders were followed.’
‘To the letter? I don’t think so. How long did you wait, Jasim? I have a good idea, for I can see how many remedies you tried on that poor creature. I did not neglect my duties, you did. If I had been here then at the very least I would have prevented Anadil from suffering. If you had summoned me straight away, she may still be alive.’
But Jasim was not so easily cowed. He moved in, pointing his finger, his breath hot on her face. ‘Can you be certain of that? Are you claiming to have found a guaranteed cure? Of course not, you are floundering around in the dark just like the rest of us. That is the truth of it. Do you know how much this mare was worth? And only a week ago, put to stud too. That counts as two we have lost, Miss Royal Horse Surgeon Darvill. I pray that we find a cure, though I doubt it will be thanks to you. The sooner the better, for it is an ill omen to have a woman on these premises.’
‘Do not be ridiculous,’ Stephanie said firmly, ‘that is mere mischief making.’
‘Ridiculous?’ Jasim shook his head, his smile contemptuous. ‘Once before, he allowed a woman here, and look what came of it.’
‘You are referring to Princess Elmira, I presume?’
‘She despoiled the place. She upset the harmony. She contaminated our male domain with her presence. And she paid the price for it, Miss Darvill. He took my side, in the end. You would do well to remember that,’ Jasim added,