Malik reached out one hand and grabbed her elbow in an iron grip, steadying her as she made her way down the steep steps. She could hear the murmur of voices from the crowd like the buzz of bees. This was already so much more than she’d expected.
‘Almost there,’ Malik said in a low voice. Sam was looking around with wide eyes. In front of her she could see a blacked-out sedan, the door thankfully open.
Cameras clicked and people jabbered questions in Arabic. Gracie stared straight ahead, wanting only the safety and privacy of the car.
And then thankfully she was sliding inside next to Sam. Malik leaned in, his face close to hers. ‘I’ll see you at the palace.’
What had seemed reasonable before now felt frightening. She wanted him with her, taking her through all this strangeness.
‘Not long, I promise,’ Malik said, and with that he was gone.
The car sped away, desert stretching on either side, the dark, craggy mountains thrusting up towards a brilliant blue sky. It was beautiful, yet stark. Gracie took a deep breath and turned to Sam.
‘So,’ she said. ‘This is Alazar.’
‘Yeah, isn’t it cool?’ Sam scooted closer to the window. ‘Which is Mount Jebar, do you think?’
‘Mount what?’
‘The highest mountain in Alazar.’
‘I don’t know. Maybe Malik will tell us.’ Gracie glanced at the driver, his face as impassive as Malik’s ever was, his eyes hidden by dark sunglasses. She clasped her hands together and remembered the feel of Malik’s hand on hers. The warmth of his body next to hers. It was going to be okay.
Ten minutes later the sedan pulled up to a magnificent palace of golden stone that seemed to stretch for miles in every direction. Through the tinted windows Gracie could make out domes and spires and a huge Moorish arched entrance, surrounded by landscaped gardens and fountains.
‘Wow,’ she breathed, because the whole thing was amazing. Her nerves relented a little as she took in the fairy-tale scene. She felt as if she should pinch herself.
The car pulled around to a side door and the driver got out and then opened the passenger door, gesturing with one hand for her to exit.
‘His Highness wishes for you to remain comfortable while you wait for him,’ he said in flawless English. ‘Please let me know if there is anything you desire. Anything at all.’
‘Thank you,’ Gracie murmured. All she wanted was Malik. She followed the driver to a set of double doors of intricately latticed wood. He bowed and indicated she should proceed.
A beautiful mosaic-tiled corridor led to an open courtyard with a fountain and several stone benches carved into the ancient walls. A table and chairs had been set up under a white linen awning, with a pitcher of fruit juice and a bowl of sticky dates and figs. The only sound was the soothing tinkle and splash of the water in the fountain.
‘This is so cool,’ Sam said, and reached for a fig.
‘Sam...’ It was a warning, although she wasn’t sure why. What were the manners for a time and place such as this?
‘Please,’ the man said. ‘Help yourself. A servant will be with you shortly to see to your every need. In the meantime, if there is anything else you require...’
‘No,’ Gracie said after a second’s pause. Her head was still spinning. ‘No, thank you.’
The man bowed again and left them alone, the doors clicking shut behind him.
‘Are we actually staying here?’ Sam exclaimed. ‘This is amazing.’
‘I...I guess so.’ Four doors led off the courtyard, each through intricate Moorish arches. Gracie felt her spirits lift as her curiosity was piqued. ‘Maybe we should explore.’
‘Definitely,’ Sam agreed, and together they went through one of the arches. It led to an elegant salon with louvered shutters open to the fresh, orange-blossom-scented air. Gracie took in the low divans scattered with silken pillows, the bouquets of fresh flowers and bowls of fruit. It was a lovely, peaceful place, and she could picture herself curled up on one of the sofas with a book. With Malik.
Sam tugged on her hand and they went through the other rooms—a bedroom with a huge king-sized bed and a gorgeous en-suite bathroom. The sunken marble tub was the size of a small swimming pool.
Through the next door there was a swimming pool, with a sauna and whirlpool and a small private gym. The final door led to another bedroom, just as sumptuous as the other.
‘Is this all for us?’ Sam asked in a near whisper.
‘It seems like it.’
Gracie heard the sound of a door opening, and she turned to see a smiling young woman coming down the corridor that must have led to the rest of the palace. Gracie smiled back, trying to quell the disappointment that it wasn’t Malik.
‘Good afternoon. It is my pleasure to serve you,’ the woman said. ‘My name is Leila.’ She dipped a small curtsey and then hurried about, fetching them glasses of juice, insisting they needed to sit down and relax.
‘Would madam like some spa treatments?’ she suggested. ‘A massage or facial to relax?’
‘Oh, wow.’ Gracie hadn’t had a spa treatment—ever. ‘Thank you...um...maybe later.’
‘Something else to drink, or to eat? Whatever you would like...’
‘Can I have ice cream?’ Sam asked impulsively.
‘Sam...’ Gracie interjected.
‘Of course,’ the woman said easily. ‘What flavour?’
‘Um...Rocky Road?’
‘Of course.’
Gracie felt as if they’d entered some twilight zone where your every wish was granted. Had she inadvertently sold her soul?
Maybe.
‘Excuse me, but could you tell me when Ma—um...the...that is, His Highness Malik al Bahjat is going to be back?’
The woman’s face clouded briefly. ‘I am afraid I do not know. He is in a meeting with his fiancée’s father.’
His what? Gracie blinked. ‘His fiancée?’ she repeated slowly.
‘Her father, yes. The wedding is in a few months.’ The woman’s smile was restored. ‘We have not had a royal wedding in many years.’
‘How exciting,’ Gracie managed. She couldn’t untangle the feelings that were snaking through her, but none of them felt good. From somewhere, she managed a stiff smile. ‘Please offer His Highness my congratulations.’
* * *
Tension banded Malik’s temples as he strode into one of the palace’s formal salons, where Arif Behwar waited. He wanted to be with Gracie, and the last thing he’d needed was hearing that not only was Asad ill and bedridden, but his fiancée’s father had paid an unexpected visit and was waiting for him.
‘Arif.’ Malik inclined his head in a greeting. ‘This is a surprise.’
‘As was news of your trip to America, and the fact that you returned with a woman and child,’ Arif returned tersely. ‘Considering you are to marry my daughter in a few months, I am naturally concerned.’
So they hadn’t been able to fly under the radar after