‘I’ll say goodbye now!’ Amy spoke to the girls, for they were getting increasingly fretful and so too was she. She must remember that they were not her babies, that they would be fine with Fatima, that they were not hers to love. But it killed her to turn around and walk up the grand staircase. It was almost impossible not to look around and respond to their tears, but she did her level best—freezing on the spot when she heard Patel’s voice.
‘The King wishes to speak with you.’
‘Me?’ Slowly Amy turned around.
‘Now,’ Patel informed her. ‘He is busy—do not keep him waiting.’
It felt like the longest walk of her life. Amy could feel eyes on her as she walked back down the stairs, trying to quieten her mind, trying not to pre-empt what Emir wanted though her heart surely knew. She had never been summoned to speak to him before, and could only conclude that his thoughts were the same as hers—while he was gone, perhaps it was better that she leave.
It was terribly awkward to face him. Not since their night together had it been just them, for Fatima was always around, her silent criticism following Amy’s every move. There was no discomfort in Emir, she noted. He looked as uninterested and as imposing as he had the last time that she had stood there, and his voice was flat.
‘You are to accompany the children to the naming ceremony of the new Prince of Alzirz.’
‘Me?’ Amy swallowed. This was so not what she had been expecting. ‘But I thought it was considered more suitable for Fatima to travel with them? She is more well-versed—’
‘This is not a discussion,’ Emir interrupted. ‘You are to go now and to pack quickly. The helicopter is waiting and I have no intention of arriving late.’
‘But—’ She didn’t understand the change of plan. She needed this time alone and was nervous about travelling with him.
‘That will be all,’ Emir broke in. ‘As I said, I did not call you in here for a discussion.’
It was Patel who offered a brief explanation as she left the office. ‘Queen Natasha wishes to discuss English nannies and has said she is looking forward to speaking with you.’
This made sense, because of course a request from Queen Natasha during the new Prince’s naming ceremony must be accommodated.
It mattered not that it would break her heart.
Amy packed quickly. She selected three pale blue robes and her nightwear, and threw a few toiletries into her bag. Even if there was the helicopter, the King and his entourage waiting, still she took a moment to pack the twins’ swimming costumes and her own bikini—because, unlike Fatima, she would swim with the girls.
Emir was at the helicopter, and she felt his air of impatience as she stepped in. He had already strapped in the girls and Fatima gave Amy a long, cool look as she left the aircraft, for it was an honour indeed to travel with the King.
It was not the easiest of journeys, though Emir did hold Nakia as they neared their destination. Again Amy watched his features harden and, looking out of the window, thought perhaps she understood why. Alzirz was celebrating as Alzan should have been on the day of the twins’ birthday. The streets around the palace were lined with excited people waving flags. They all watched in excitement as dignitaries arrived for the naming of their new Prince.
How it must kill him to be so polite, Amy mused as they arrived at the palace and the two men kissed on both cheeks. She could feel the simmering hatred between them that went back generations.
Queen Natasha didn’t seem to notice it. She was incredibly informal and greeted both Amy and the twins as if they were visiting relatives, rather than a nanny and two young princesses. ‘They’ve grown!’ she said.
She looked amazing, Amy noted, wearing a loose fitting white robe embroidered with flowers. She certainly didn’t look like a woman who had given birth just a few days ago, and Amy felt drab beside her.
‘Come through!’ Natasha offered, seeing the twins were more than a little overawed by the large formal gathering. ‘I’ll take you to the nursery. I have to get the baby ready.’ She chatted easily as they walked through the palace. ‘I’ll introduce you to my nanny, Kuma. She’s just delightful, but I really want him to learn English.’ She smiled over to Amy. ‘You’re not looking for a job, by any chance?’ she asked shamelessly.
‘I’m very happy where I am,’ came Amy’s appropriate response, though she was tempted to joke that Natasha might find her on the palace doorstep in a couple of days. But, no, Amy realised, even if Natasha was nice, even if she was easy to talk to, in Alzirz as in Alzan the Royal Nanny would have to be obedient to royal command. She could never put her heart through this again.
Kuma really was delightful. She was far more effusive and loving than Fatima. She smiled widely when she saw the twins, put a finger up to her lips to tell them to hush, and then beckoned them over to admire the new prince. Nakia wasn’t particularly interested, but Clemira clapped her hands in delight and nearly jumped out of Amy’s arms in an effort to get to the baby. She was clearly totally infatuated with the young Prince.
‘He’s beautiful,’ Amy said. His skin was as dark as Rakhal’s, but his hair was blonde like Natasha’s, and Amy was suddenly filled with hopeless wonder as to what her babies might have been like if Emir was their father. She was consumed again with all she had lost, but then she held Clemira tighter and qualified that—all that she was losing by walking away.
‘Would you like to hold him?’ Natasha offered.
‘He’s asleep,’ Amy said, because she was terrified if she did that she might break down.
‘He has to get up, I’m afraid,’ Natasha said. ‘I want to feed him before the naming ceremony.’ She scooped the sleeping infant out of his crib and, as Kuma took Clemira, handed him to Amy.
Sometimes it had hurt to hold Clemira and Nakia in those early days, to know that she would never hold her own newborn, and the pain was back now, as acute as it had been then, perhaps more so—especially when the two Kings came in. Rakhal was proud and smiling down at his son. Emir was polite as he admired the new Prince. But there was grief in his eyes and Amy could see it. She was angry on behalf of his girls, yet she understood it too—for the laws in this land, like in the desert, could be cruel.
‘Come,’ Emir told her, ‘we should take our places.’
Her place was beside him—for the last time.
She stood where in the future she would not: holding his daughters. She held Clemira and sometimes swapped. Sometimes he held both, when he did not have to salute, so he could give Amy a rest and once, when they girls got restless, she set them on the ground, for it was a long and complicated ceremony.
‘They did well,’ Emir said as they walked back to the nursery with the weary twins.
‘Of course they did!’ Amy smiled. ‘And if they’d cried would it really have mattered? Tariq screamed the whole ceremony.’
‘He did.’ Emir had been thinking the same, knew he must not be so rigid. Except his country expected so little from his daughters and somehow he wanted to show them all they could be. ‘Just so you know, the Alzirz nanny will be looking after the twins tonight. They are to make a brief appearance at the party, but she will dress them and take care of that.’
‘Why?’ Amy asked, and she watched his lips tighten as she questioned him.
‘Because.’ Emir answered, and he almost hissed in irritation as he felt her blue eyes still questioning him. He refused to admit that he did not know why.
‘Because what?’
He wanted to turn around and tell her that he was new to this, that the intricacies of parenthood and royal protocol confused him at times too. Hannah would have been the one handling such things. It was on days like