‘Zayed...’
‘No, Miss Taylor. I am Ammar Abdul, the Prince’s doctor.’
‘Oh.’ As her eyes adjusted to the dim room, she could see the man, tall and thin, looking nothing like Zayed. ‘Where...where is Zayed?’
‘Prince Zayed has returned to Rubyhan.’ There was a faintly repressive note to the doctor’s voice that made Olivia realise her question had been presumptuous.
‘I...see.’ Her mouth felt terribly dry. ‘Could I have a drink of water?’
‘Of course.’ With alacrity the doctor rose and poured her a glass of water from the pitcher on the bedside table, held it to her lips. Olivia took several grateful sips before subsiding back on the pillow, exhausted by even that small amount of activity.
‘What...what has happened to me?’ she asked. The last thing she remembered was Zayed taking her in his arms, telling her not to fight him. Not to fight them.
Tears pricked her eyes; her emotions felt so very raw, right up at the surface of everything. Why had he left her?
‘You were bitten by a snake, Miss Taylor. A desert cobra. You are fortunate to be alive.’
A snake. Briefly, distantly, Olivia remembered the stinging pain in her ankle. ‘How...how long have I been like this?’
‘It has been four days since you were bitten. For some time we did not know whether you would live or die. As I said, you are very fortunate.’
‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘How much longer will I be here?’
‘Prince Zayed wishes you to return to Rubyhan as soon as it is safe to do so, perhaps in another day.’
Olivia nodded, and after a few moments the doctor left her to rest. She stared into the darkness, her heart a leaden weight inside her. Four days, and her life at stake. And Zayed had left. No matter why or when, she couldn’t ignore that fact. She couldn’t move past it.
He never promised to love you, she reminded herself. He has a kingdom to run.
But the fact that he wasn’t here, that he’d chosen not to be here, felt like a hammer to her fragile hopes. It was a wake-up call to the reality of what she’d been about to agree to, and a much-needed one at that.
Olivia spent the day resting and trying to recover, and by the next morning Ammar Abdul deemed her well enough to be transported back to Rubyhan.
‘It does not appear that you will have any lasting effects from the snakebite,’ he told her after he’d checked her over. ‘But you will require another complete check in a few weeks to make sure. In the meantime, rest, sleep, eat and drink.’ He gave her a smile with sympathy. ‘You will feel a little better each day.’
‘That’s good to hear.’ She felt about a hundred years old at the moment, moving slowly, everything aching. The ride in the Jeep was torture, with all the bumps and jostling, and the short helicopter ride to Rubyhan was no better. By the time Olivia arrived at the Palace of Clouds, she was exhausted and aching more than ever, longing only for her bed...and Zayed.
He was not waiting at the helipad when she touched down and she didn’t see him as Anna escorted her into the palace. Although she knew she probably shouldn’t, Olivia couldn’t keep from asking about him.
‘How is Prince Zayed?’
Anna gave her a brief, inscrutable look. ‘He is quite busy at the moment, dealing with various issues of diplomacy, but I will let him know that you have arrived.’
‘Thank you,’ Olivia murmured, fighting that bone-deep disappointment she’d felt since she’d woken up and realised that Zayed was gone. That he didn’t care. Or was she being unreasonable, expecting him to sit by her bedside like some lovesick nurse? He had a country to run, duties to perform. She was being over-emotional and ridiculous, but she couldn’t help herself.
It was another full day before she actually saw Zayed. She’d spent most of her time in her room, resting or sleeping, trying to manage a few meals although she had no appetite. Then, the evening of her second day back at Rubyhan, Anna fetched her.
‘Prince Zayed would like to see you now,’ she said, and Olivia suppressed the sarcastic reply she wanted to make: what, now? He beckoned and she came, apparently.
Anna led her not to one of Zayed’s private, more casual rooms, but to a formal audience chamber on the ground floor, with marble pillars and walls adorned with gold leaf. Zayed stood at the far end of the room, dressed in a traditional thobe, embroidered with red and blue thread, and loose trousers. He could not have shown her more thoroughly that he wanted to create a distance between them.
What had changed since he’d drawn her in his arms and told her how good they were together? What had happened?
Anna quietly closed the door behind her so Olivia was alone with Zayed—Prince Zayed, because that was how this felt. He was the Prince and she was the commoner. She swallowed hard and walked slowly to one of the gilt-covered chairs at the side of the room.
‘You’ll have to excuse me,’ she said stiffly. ‘I still cannot stand for long periods.’
‘Of course you must sit.’ Zayed took a step forward and then stopped as Olivia sank into a chair. His gaze, as unreadable as ever, swept over her. ‘You are looking far better than when I last saw you.’
‘And when was that?’ Olivia returned, a touch sharply. Zayed frowned and she looked away, biting her lip. There was no point in revealing her hurt feelings. It was clear they didn’t matter.
‘Five days ago.’ Zayed’s voice was cool. ‘I had to return to Rubyhan on official matters.’
‘Of course.’ Neither of them spoke, the silence between them a heavy burden that Olivia didn’t have the strength to bear. Not now, and maybe never. ‘What’s happened, Zayed?’ she asked quietly. ‘What has changed?’
‘Changed?’
‘Between us.’ She met his gaze directly, unafraid now. How much more could he hurt her? ‘I don’t remember much after the snake bit me, but I remember before. I remember you telling me to fight for us and drawing me into your arms.’ She swallowed. ‘Then, the next thing I know, I’ve been desperately ill for four days and you’re back in Rubyhan. I arrived yesterday morning and this is the first I’ve even seen you.’
Zayed’s jaw was tight. ‘I’ve been busy.’
‘And when I do see you, it’s as if I’m some supplicant coming to beg a favour from the king.’ She gestured to the ornate reception room. ‘What is this? What are you trying to tell me?’
Zayed was silent for a long moment and Olivia waited, holding her breath, because there was something. She just didn’t know what it was.
‘I’ve heard from Serrat,’ Zayed said at last.
‘Serrat? The French diplomat?’
‘Yes.’
‘And?’ She searched his face, finding nothing, feeling cold. ‘What did he say?’
‘France is not willing to support my claim.’
‘Oh. I’m sorry.’ She absorbed the statement for a few seconds and then realised what it meant for her. ‘You are questioning whether my credentials matter any longer,’ she said slowly. Zayed didn’t answer. ‘Whether a western wife who can speak French and has a background in foreign service matters at all.’ It was suddenly so obvious and it hurt so much. Far more than she wanted it to. She nodded slowly, accepting, because what other choice did she have? She loved him, but he didn’t love her. She’d known that all along. ‘So, back to plan A?’ she asked with an attempt at levity that fell entirely flat.
‘There’s more.’ Zayed bit the words off, his jaw clenched tight. ‘Sultan Hassan has