‘I thought you were rivals?’
‘Of course,’ Emir said. ‘But Queen Natasha is new to this. She does not understand how deep the rivalry is, that though we speak and laugh and attend each other’s celebrations there is no affection there.’
‘None?’
‘None.’ His face was dark. ‘The twins will be looked after by their nanny tonight. They will be brought back to you in the morning and you will all join me at the formal breakfast tomorrow.’
‘But the girls will be unsettled in a new …’
He looked at her. He must have been mad to even have considered it—crazy even to think it. For she would not make a good sheikha queen. There was not one sentence he uttered that went unquestioned, not a thought in her head that she did not voice.
‘You keep requesting a night off. Why then, do you complain when you get one?’
Amy reminded herself of her place.
‘I’m not complaining.’ She gave him a wide smile. ‘I’m delighted to have a night off work. I just wasn’t expecting it.’
‘You can ring down for dinner to be sent to you.’
‘Room service?’ Amy kept that smile, remembered her place. ‘And I’ve got my own pool … Enjoy the party.’
Of course he did not.
He was less than happy as he took his place at the gathering. He could see the changes Natasha had brought to the rather staid palace, heard laughter in the air and the hum of pleasant, relaxed conversation, and it only served to make him more tense. He held his daughters along with Kuma, and Natasha held her son. He saw Kuma being so good with them and thought perhaps Fatima was not so suitable.
Maybe a gentler nanny would suit the children best, Emir thought. For he knew that Amy was leaving—had seen it in her eyes—and he held Clemira just a touch tighter before he handed her back to Kuma. His heart twisted again, for they should not be in this world without their mother, and a king should not be worrying about hiring a new nanny.
There was the one big decision that weighed heavily, but there were others that must be made too: their nanny, their schooling, their language, their tears, their grief, their future. He must fathom it all unshared with another who loved them. As a single father he did not know how to be.
Black was his mind as the babies were taken upstairs to the nursery, and he looked over to Rakhal, who stood with his wife by his side. Never had he felt more alone. Tonight he grieved the loss of both Hannah and Amy, and he was so distracted that he did not notice Natasha had made her way over.
‘I’m sorry. This must be so difficult for you.’
He shot her a look of scorn. How dared she suggest to his face such a thing? How dared she so blatantly disrespect his girls?
But just as his mouth formed a scathing retort she continued. ‘It’s Hannah’s anniversary soon?’
He closed his eyes for a second. Grief consumed him.
He nodded. ‘She is missed.’
Natasha looked at this King with grief in his eyes, who stood apart and polite but alone. ‘Where’s Amy?’
‘She is enjoying a night off,’ he clipped, for he did not like to think about her when he wanted her here at his side.
‘I didn’t mean for her to stay in her room.’ Natasha laughed. ‘When I said that my nanny would look after the girls I was hoping that she would join us.’
‘She is the nanny,’ Emir said curtly. ‘She is here only to look after the children.’
‘Ah, but she’s English,’ Natasha sighed and rolled her eyes. ‘Have you any idea how nice it feels to have someone here who is from home? I was so looking forward to speaking with her—we never really got a chance earlier.’
‘She will bring the twins to breakfast tomorrow,’ Emir responded, uncomfortable with such overt friendliness.
When he visited Alzirz, or when duty dictated that Rakhal visit Alzan, there were firm boundaries in place, certain ways things were done, but Natasha seemed completely oblivious to them. The new Sheikha Queen did not seem to understand that it was all an act between himself and Rakhal, that there was still a deep rivalry between the two Kings, born from an innate need to protect the kingdoms, their land and their people. Natasha simply didn’t understand that although they spoke politely, although they attended all necessary functions, it was only mutual hate that truly united them.
‘I’ll have somebody sent to get her,’ Natasha persisted.
Emir could only imagine how well that would go down with Amy. She didn’t like to be told what to do at the best of times, and this certainly wasn’t the best of times.
‘She is staff,’ Emir said, and that should have ended the conversation—especially as Rakhal had now come over. At least Rakhal knew how things were done. He would terminate this conversation in an instant, would quickly realise that lines were being crossed—unlike this beaming Englishwoman.
What was it with them?
Natasha smiled up to her husband. ‘I was just saying to Emir that I was hoping to have Amy join us tonight. I do miss having someone from home to chat to at times.’
And love must have softened Rakhal’s brain, Emir thought darkly, for instead of looking to Emir, instead of gauging his response, instead of playing by the unspoken rules he looked to his wife.
‘Then why don’t you have someone go to the suite and see if she would care to join us?’ he said. Only then did he address Emir. ‘Normally Natasha’s brother and his fiancée would be here tonight, to join in the celebrations, but they are in the UK for another family commitment and couldn’t make it.’
Emir did not care. Emir had no desire to know why Natasha’s brother and his fiancée could not be here. Had Rakhal forgotten for a moment that this was all a charade? That there was more hate in the air than the palatial ballroom could readily hold? For when he thought of his daughters, thought of his late wife and the rule Alzirz refused to revoke, Emir could happily pull his knife.
‘It would be unfair to her.’ Emir did his best to keep his voice even. ‘She will have only her working clothes with her.’
‘I’m not that mean.’ Natasha smiled. ‘I wouldn’t do that to her. I’ll have some clothes and maidens sent to her room to help prepare her. I’ll arrange it now.’
There was so much he would like to say—Emir was not used to having any decision questioned—and yet protocol dictated politeness even in this most uncomfortable of situations. He could just imagine Amy, in her present mood, if one of the servants were to knock at her door and insist that she come down and join in with the feasting and celebrations. A smile he was not expecting almost spread his lips at the very thought, but he rescued his features from expression and nodded to the waiting Queen.
‘Very well, if you wish to have Amy here, I shall go now and speak to her. I will ask her to come down, though she may already have retired for the night.’
Natasha smiled back at him and Emir could not understand why she could not see the hate in his eyes as he spoke. He strode out of the grand ballroom.
As he did so Rakhal turned to his wife. ‘You are meddling.’
‘Of course I’m not,’ Natasha lied.
But her husband knew her too well. He had had the teachings too and his wife seduced with her beauty, dazzled like the sun low in the desert. He knew his wife was plotting now.
‘Natasha? You do not interfere in such things.’
‘I’m not,’ Natasha insisted. ‘You have to work the room and I would like someone to talk to