“And he only calls me Your Highness when he wants to annoy me,” Tariq murmured. “It is not the address of our people.” It took an effort to keep his tone even after the blithely delivered message. The arrival of those who would stand witness to the events of this night, brought his plans one step closer to fruition.
Hiraz sighed and relaxed, unable to continue on in such an unfamiliar way. “So you actually did it.” His gaze settled on Jasmine. “Do you understand what he has planned?”
“Enough.” Tariq made the words an autocratic warning.
Hiraz merely lifted a brow and moved aside. He fell into step beside them as they entered the palace.
“What have you planned?” Jasmine asked.
“I will tell you later.”
“When?”
“Jasmine.” His quiet, implacable tone usually commanded instant obedience.
“Tariq.” At the unexpected echo, he paused and turned, to find Mina scowling up at him.
Hiraz’s chuckle provided welcome respite from the sudden shock of recognizing that Jasmine was no longer the fragile girl of his memories. “I see that she has grown up. Good. She will not be easy to control. You would crush a weak woman.”
“She will do as I say.”
Jasmine wanted to protest at the way they were ignoring her presence, but Tariq’s dark expression stole her faltering courage. He’d humored her in the final minutes of the journey, but the man in front of her was the Sheik of Zulheil. And she didn’t know this powerful stranger.
Inside, the palace was surprisingly comfortable, with nothing ornate or overdone. Light came in through lots of tiny carved windows, bathing the rooms in sunlight lace. Though beautiful, it was very much a home. Jasmine was still admiring her surroundings when a woman dressed in a long flowing dress in a shade of pale green materialized at her elbow.
“You will go with Mumtaz,” Tariq decreed. He lifted their clasped hands and kissed Jasmine’s wrist, his gaze locked with hers. Her blood raced through her body, frenetic with the effect of the simple caress. “I will see you in two hours.” Then he was gone, striding down the corridor with Hiraz.
Three
Mumtaz showed her to her rooms—a suite in the southern end of the palace. While one room she was shown into had a very feminine feel, the others in the suite were full of masculine accoutrements. She commented on the fact.
“I…do not think there was enough warning of your arrival.” There was an odd catch in Mumtaz’s voice.
Jasmine attributed her faltering explanation to embarrassment over discussing Tariq’s business. “Of course,” she agreed, wishing to put the friendly woman at ease.
“Where do these doors go?” she asked, after they’d put her clothes away in the huge walk-in closet.
“Come. You will like this.” Mumtaz’s ebullient smile was infectious. With a flourish, she flung open the doors.
“A garden!” Under Jasmine’s bare feet, the grass in the enclosed garden was soft and lush. A small fountain in the middle of the circular enclosure sent arcs of water tumbling over the Zulheil Rose carvings at its base. Benches surrounded the fountain, and were in turn encircled by millions of tiny blue flowers. A haunting fragrance drifted to her from the huge tree in the corner, which was covered with bell-shaped, blue-white blossoms.
“This is the private garden of…” Mumtaz stumbled over her words. “I am sorry, sometimes my English…”
“That’s okay.” Jasmine waved her hand. “I’m trying to learn the language of Zulheil, but I’m not very good yet.”
Mumtaz’s eyes sparkled. “I will teach you, yes?”
“Thank you! You were saying about the garden?”
Mumtaz frowned in thought. “This is the private garden of the people who live behind these…entrances.” She pointed to Jasmine’s door and to two other similar ones to the left. Together, they encircled three quarters of the garden. A high wall overrun with creeping vines completed the enclosure.
Jasmine nodded. “Oh, you mean it’s the guests’ garden.”
Mumtaz shuffled her feet and gave her a smile. “You like your rooms and this garden?”
“How could I not? They’re stunning.”
“Good, that is good. You will stay in Zulheil?”
Jasmine looked up, surprised at her tone. “You know?”
Mumtaz sighed and took a seat on a bench near the fountain. Jasmine followed. “Hiraz is Tariq’s closest friend, and as Hiraz’s wife—”
“You’re Hiraz’s wife?” Jasmine choked. “I thought you were…never mind.”
“A maid, yes?” Mumtaz smiled without rancor. “Tariq wished for you to be with someone you felt comfortable with when you arrived. I work in the palace and will be here every day. I hope you feel you can ask me for anything you need.”
“Oh, yes.” A little spark of warmth ignited inside Jasmine. Tariq had cared enough to arrange for this lovely woman to welcome her. “But why didn’t he say anything?”
“Both he and Hiraz are terrible when they are in a temper. Tariq is angry with you, and my husband with me.”
“Why is Hiraz angry with you?” Jasmine’s curiosity got the better of her.
“He expects me to agree with something he and Tariq are doing, even though he himself does not agree with Tariq.” Before Jasmine could question her further, Mumtaz continued, “Hiraz told me the story of what happened in your country. But it is common knowledge in Zulheil that Tariq had his heart broken by a red-haired foreigner with blue eyes.”
Jasmine blinked. “How?”
“Hiraz would go to his grave with Tariq’s secrets, but others in that party were not so…loyal,” Mumtaz explained. “You are a mystery, but it is good you have come now. After his parents’ deaths, Tariq is much in need.”
“He’s furious with me,” she confessed.
“But you are in Zulheina. It is better to be near him even if he is angry, yes? You must learn to manage your h—”
The sudden look of distress on Mumtaz’s exotic face alarmed Jasmine. “What is it?” she asked.
“I…I have forgotten something. Please, you must come inside.”
She followed, bemused by Mumtaz’s sudden change in mood.
“A bath has been drawn for your comfort. Afterward, please wear these.” Mumtaz pointed to clothing that had appeared on the bed.
Jasmine touched the soft and incredibly fine fabric with her fingers. It was as weightless as mist and the color of Zulheil Rose—pure white with a hidden heart of fire. There was a long flowing skirt sprinkled with tiny shards of crystal that would catch the light each time she moved. The top was a fitted bodice bordered with the same sparkling crystals. Though the long sleeves would end at her wrists, the garment itself was short and would leave her midriff bare. Multiple strands of fine gold chain lay beside the top. Clearly, they were supposed to go around her waist.
“These aren’t mine,” Jasmine whispered.
“There is a special…meal, and your clothing is not correct. This is for you as, uh…”
“A guest?” she suggested. “Well, I suppose if this is normal practice, then it should be okay. I just wouldn’t feel comfortable wearing something so expensive otherwise.”
She had to repeatedly ensure