Читать книгу Hot Arabian Nights - Marguerite Kaye - Страница 13

Chapter Six

‘Enter,’ Julia called out brightly in Arabic, in response to the tap on the door of her suite, assuming it was her maid come to clear away the breakfast dishes. She finished rolling the last of the dried plant roots she had collected two days ago in protective cotton before placing them carefully in the replacement specimen trunk. She looked up, smiling. ‘See how perfect a home it is for my growing collection of specimens,’ she said.

But it was not the maid who stood watching her, it was Azhar. ‘Your return visit to the village at the oasis was productive, then?’ he asked.

‘Oh! I was expecting Aisha. Yes, very productive. Johara and I managed to communicate passably well, between my limited vocabulary and a lot of gesticulating.’

Azhar was clad in bottle-green today, his trousers and tunic both made of silk. ‘I am sorry that I could not stay to act as your translator.’

‘You had your own business to attend to at the diamond mine. I hope your day was equally as productive.’

‘Not particularly. The mine itself is apparently not as productive as it once was but I was unable to get a clear explanation as to why.’

‘Perhaps the reserves are simply running out.’

‘Perhaps, but it is a source of concern none the less.’ Azhar rubbed his eyes wearily. ‘The trade in diamonds provides Qaryma with one of its main sources of wealth. The impact of the decrease in output is starkly reflected in the Treasury accounts which I spent yesterday reviewing—much to my brother’s chagrin, needless to say.’

‘You surely don’t suspect him of fraud?’ Julia exclaimed.

Azhar shrugged. ‘I have no reason to suspect him of anything. I wish merely to ensure that everything is in order.’

‘Before you hand full control over to him, you mean.’ Julia closed the lid of her new specimen trunk and pushed it to one side. ‘We have barely had a chance to talk since you told me of your intention to abdicate power.’

‘Were you shocked?’

‘Very at first, and then I recalled what you said to me that day, when we were approaching the city for the first time. That you were here at the behest of a dead man to claim your freedom.’ Julia smiled faintly. ‘I didn’t understand what you meant at the time but I can now see you meant to be free of the crown. If that is the case, Azhar, if you are truly resolved to leave here, I can’t understand what you need me for?’

‘That has not changed. It is extremely important to me to leave in the firm knowledge that Qaryma is in safe hands. There is a real danger that I may see only what I want to see. A fresh perspective is what I need, and you are the ideal person to provide it. Someone dispassionate, with no emotional attachment to Qaryma.’

Exactly as he had described himself, Julia thought but did not say. ‘Why haven’t you told Kamal of your plans? You intend to trust him with your kingdom, yet you don’t trust him with the knowledge that it will be his. Unless—is this some sort of test period? To allow you to assess him—but then, if he fails...’

‘He won’t fail. He cannot be allowed to fail. It is impossible for me to remain here, Julia. My freedom has been very hard won.’

‘Until you actually abdicate, your freedom has not been won at all,’ she replied tartly.

Azhar’s laugh was bitter. ‘You are quite correct. For the last ten years, the freedom I thought I had claimed was a mirage.’

‘You really did think your father had disinherited you?’

‘I had every reason to.’

‘It must have been a terrible shock to discover he had not. You said you received a summons to tell you your father was dead, I think?’

‘The summons was from my father, though he instructed that it be sent only on the occasion of his death. He clearly had no desire to be reconciled with me, our estrangement was every bit as final as I believed it to be. Unlike your husband, my father could not control my actions while he was alive, but—’

‘By refusing to disinherit you, he was forcing you to return against your will. He was trying to control you from beyond the grave,’ Julia interrupted, her eyes wide. ‘Just exactly like Daniel!’

‘Precisely. I knew you of all people would understand.’

‘I do. I must say, though, that you must be in a tiny minority of men who would willingly renounce such a powerful and privileged position.’

‘Most men do not understand all that being in a position of power entails. Power comes with great responsibility attached. As a king, I would be constrained by my duty to my kingdom, bound to it by my crown. That is not freedom.’

Julia shuddered. ‘No, indeed, but as the eldest son you must have grown up knowing Qaryma would one day be yours.’

‘And railing against that fate, though I never believed I could avoid it. I never wanted to rule, whereas Kamal—it is one of the things that made him so angry the other day in the garden. He has always desperately wanted to rule. Even when we were children, it was a bone of contention. He wanted it but could not have it. I had no interest in it but was burdened with it. The irony has always eaten away at him.’

Julia rolled her eyes. ‘I can imagine. Were you never close? I know almost nothing of your past.’

‘That is because I have put it behind me,’ Azhar said. Julia drew him a sceptical look, forcing him to throw his hands up. ‘By the time I leave here, it will be behind me for ever.’

‘Context is all,’ Julia retorted. ‘To understand a plant, one must understand its environment.’

His lip twitched. ‘I am not a rare species to be documented and categorised.’

‘No, you are not rare, you are quite unique, which is why I’d like to understand you a little more.’

‘You flatter me.’

‘To speak the truth is not flattery,’ Julia said, quoting his own words back at him.

‘You are a very devious woman, Julia Trevelyan.’

‘I don’t think I’ll add that to my list of compliments. Has my deviousness paid off?’

Azhar laughed. ‘Yes, but you must not assume you have set a precedent. We will take a tour of the palace. You want to know more about my past. The palace both contains and defines my past. Can you be ready in half an hour?’

* * *

‘The palace is formed around four courts. The First Court functions merely as an entrance courtyard, with access to the stables, the guards’ quarters, the kitchens and stores. Anyone may enter the First Court. We are currently in the Second Court, which is the first inner courtyard, and the first to which entry is strictly controlled. You will observe too, that it is surrounded by a much higher wall than the First Court.’

Julia gazed around the huge open space, where five distinct paths formed by box hedges bordered by cypress and plane trees, radiated out at angles from the gated entry. She had passed through the space before, and had been much taken by the carefully tended formal gardens, which were laid out in the classical style around a huge central pentagon shape. She had noticed the high wall only to remark to herself on the quality of the shade it provided. Now it made her shiver. ‘It is like a castle keep.’

‘That is because it was originally built as a fortress. These walls form the oldest part of the palace, which dates back almost five hundred years.’

‘Are there still wars?’

‘Not for at least a century.’

‘Then the walls and the gate...’

‘Serve tradition. Symbolise the majesty of the King. Act as a reminder of his strength and his power. The walls demonstrate the gulf that lies between a king and his people.’

‘A gulf that you must have breached. You know the desert, Azhar, and the little I’ve seen of the people—they know you.’

‘That is true.’ Azhar agreed. ‘Even as a child, I hated the confines of these walls. I always yearned to know what was happening outside them.’

‘But your father preferred you to remain inside?’

‘He preferred that my trips into the kingdom were formalised.’ Azhar led the way along the middle of the five paths. ‘My father believed that a king must be seen to rule, that he must be a presence to his people, but that presence must be orchestrated. Processions. Feasts. Ceremonies. Always, the line between the King, his family and his subjects must be drawn firmly in the sand. And always, from my earliest days, as soon as I was old enough to think for myself, I disagreed with him. I wanted to see for myself, hear for myself and experience life for myself.’

‘Then as now,’ Julia said.

Azhar smiled grimly. ‘Then as now, as you say. If I make mistakes, they are my own. A king can never make mistakes.’

‘Never admit to them, at any rate. That is one royal trait that Daniel had in abundance,’ Julia interjected. ‘He hated to be in the wrong. There was a time in South America, when our barge—’ She broke off abruptly, shocked by the bitterness in her voice.

‘Your barge?’

Azhar raised an enquiring brow, but she shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter. He blamed me, and though it was ludicrous I allowed him to blame me because it was easier than arguing with him. It is mortifying, on reflection, how much I permitted his opinions to rule me.’

‘And to give you a very low opinion of yourself,’ Azhar said gently.

‘Yes, you’ve said that several times, and I’m beginning to think you’re right, which is why I’ve resolved to try not to dwell on the past. I am not incapable of making mistakes—my dragoman being an obvious example—but nor am I inept. I have travelled alone halfway across the world. I have been robbed, and drugged and carried off by a complete stranger to a remote kingdom I had no idea existed until a week ago, and yet here I am, still alive and kicking. You see,’ Julia said, smiling, ‘I do listen.’

‘I am glad to hear it.’

Azhar’s smile made her belly clench. His mouth distracted her. It reminded her of the kisses they had exchanged in the garden. It made her want more of them. She shouldn’t be thinking about kisses. ‘We are supposed to be talking about your past, not mine,’ Julia said.

She dragged her eyes away from the beguiling man to the almost-as-beguiling surroundings. It was cool in the shade of the tall trees. At the centre of the pentagon, on either side of their path, were a pair of matching fountains, their bases formed in a star shape, patterned with gold mosaic, the inside tiled in the traditional turquoise. In the centre of each, water spouted from a huge urn. Julia sat down on the edge of the nearest fountain, trailing her hand in the water. ‘It is very quiet here. I would have thought a court like this would be full of people coming and going—for it is a sort of waiting room, isn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ Azhar said, with one of his fleeting smiles, ‘a waiting room. An empty one.’ He sat down beside her, leaning back on the edge of the fountain to gaze up at the inner wall, visible above the cypress trees. ‘My father was always very wary of foreign traders,’ he said. ‘He believed that Qaryma should be self-sufficient, that the wealth we had should be protected. He knew this desert like the back of his hand, but he rarely ventured beyond the boundaries of his domain, save on official visits.’

‘My own father never leaves Cornwall. He says that everything he needs is there, and in a way it is,’ Julia said. ‘He has his home, and he has his gardens, and he has his society meetings—men of science like Papa, who meet once a month to discuss the latest discoveries.’ She made a face. ‘Actually, what they mostly do is regurgitate their own work.’

Azhar laughed. ‘You make it sound as if they chew over their papers and spit them out.’

‘That is more or less exactly what they do,’ Julia replied. ‘In Cornwall, Papa is respected and admired, an established expert. Celebrated, in a way. Botanists travel from all over England to see his gardens, you know.’ She chewed her lip. ‘His fame in his field is well deserved, but it is a small field. He disapproved of Daniel’s book. He said it was far too wide in scope—that the best works concentrated on a narrow field of study.’

Azhar caught a small darting fish in his hand, its tiny scales flashing gold and green. ‘Then I assume he disapproves of your finishing it?’

‘Actually, he doesn’t know that’s what I’m doing,’ Julia confessed.

Azhar placed the wildly flapping fish gently back in the water. ‘Then what does he think you’re doing here in Arabia?’

‘He doesn’t know that either. He thinks I’m on a Hebridean island—that is in Scotland, the most remote part of Britain I could think of. I told him that I needed solitude to recover from Daniel’s death.’ Azhar looked so astonished that Julia laughed. ‘I wanted to surprise him with with the book when I had finished.’

‘I think you will do rather more than that.’

‘You think he’ll be angry?’

Azhar shook his hand dry. ‘In my experience men like your father do not like to be upstaged, especially by their own children.’

‘Do you think your father was afraid that you’d make a better king than he?’

Azhar snorted with derision. ‘My father thought no one would make a better king than he. What he was afraid of was that I wouldn’t make any sort of king, which is why he refused to allow me any sort of freedom.’

‘That is a recipe for disaster. He must have known a child with such an adventurous spirit as I imagine you would have been, would grow into a man who wanted to explore the wider world. If only he had permitted you to travel when you were younger, to satisfy your natural wanderlust...’

‘It was not so simple,’ Azhar said with a sigh. ‘It was not only my desire to experience a world beyond Qaryma, Julia, it was the fact that for me, Qaryma was...’

‘...a gilded cage,’ she finished for him with a smile. ‘A very beautiful one, and one that no longer contains your father.’

‘If I remained here, it would contain me though, for the rest of my life.’

‘Surely you exaggerate?’

Shaking his head, Azhar got to his feet, taking her hand to help her up. ‘Come, we can continue our tour later. I have ordered refreshments to be brought to us.’

* * *

‘This is the reception room for the Divan next door,’ Azhar said, stepping aside to let Julia enter in front of him. ‘The Divan is the room used for meetings of the Council, where foreign visitors are received, and for ceremonies such as weddings and coronations.’

‘So it’s a throne room?’

‘That is one use. I will show it to you after we have eaten.’

He sank on to one of the velvet cushions scattered beside the low marble table, but Julia continued to examine the room. As one of the first chambers which visitors encountered, it was opulent, designed to both intimidate and impress, but Julia, Azhar noticed with amusement, was rather entranced than awed, running her fingers along the ornate mosaic patterning on the walls, gazing for almost a full minute, her neck craned, at the stained glass of the domed ceiling, circling around the twelve pillars which formed the portico to the Divan itself, trailing her fingers through the fountain in the centre of the of the room before finally joining him at the table, occupying the cushion beside him and eyeing the fruit and pastries with undisguised relish.

‘I’m ravenous,’ she said. ‘I have never eaten such delicious food in my life as has been served to me here. I shall go back to Cornwall with a huge tummy.’

She patted her patently concave belly, and bit into a pastry. ‘Almonds, of course, there are always almonds. And raisins. And—chicken?’

‘Guinea fowl.’ There was a stray flake of pastry on the corner of her mouth. Azhar watched, fascinated, as she licked it before popping the remainder of the pastry into her mouth, closing her eyes so as to savour it.

He shifted uncomfortably on the cushion. Did she know what she did to him? She plucked another sweetmeat from the platter, a pastry tube coated in sugar and cinnamon. Azhar’s shaft stiffened. She could have no possible idea of the visions she was conjuring, he doubted she had ever even caressed a male member. He poured himself a cooling glass of sherbet and took a long drink.

‘Delicious!’ Julia said, quite oblivious of the effect she was having. ‘May I have some sherbet? I’m hot.’

And he was on fire. ‘Let me cool you down,’ Azhar said, taking a small lump of ice from the silver chafing dish and sliding it into her mouth. Her lips formed into a perfect ‘oh’ of surprise, and Azhar surrendered to the impulse to cover them with his own.

Cold ice, the warmth of her lips, the softness of her tongue, the heat from his body, made him shiver with delight. Though he longed to devour her, he savoured her, holding himself rigid, restricting the contact to their lips and their tongues. She smelled of jasmine. The ice melted, and he reached blindly for another piece. Julia opened her mouth, her eyes slumberous, her cheeks flushed, and when he covered her lips with his, kissed him back with a fierceness that threatened to overpower the fragile grip he had on his self-control.

The next lump of ice, he trailed down the column of her throat, easing her back on the cushions, unfastening her tunic buttons to push the garment aside. Her skin was milky white. Her nipples were pale-pink peaks. He let the ice melt on them, watching her shudder, aware of those big beguiling eyes of hers fixed on him, then he took one of the icy cold buds in his mouth and sucked hard.

Her moan made his groin tighten. The second nipple, delightfully hard, swapped ice for fire as he enveloped it with his lips. Still she watched him, her eyes glittering, her hair, free from her headscarf, glinting fire in the dappled light from the stained-glass ceiling. He knew that she longed to touch him, but he knew that she would not, without a cue. She learned quickly. And she was untutored. The combination of voluptuary and innocent was intoxicating. That they were indulging in such carnal pleasure here, right next to the Divan, added an extra frisson to Azhar’s enjoyment.

He opened the last of the buttons which held her tunic together. Another lump of ice, teasing down her body, pooling in the dip of her naval. He licked it dry. He undid the sash of her pantaloons.

‘Azhar, someone might come.’

He laughed. ‘That is not a possibility, Julia, it is a certainty,’ he said, tilting her bottom up to swiftly remove the garment.

‘Azhar!’

‘Julia, we will not be disturbed. No one dares enter without my permission.’ He took one final piece of ice from the dish.

‘What are you going to do with that?’

She had no idea. The knowledge that he would be the one to initiate her only heightened his desire. Smiling wickedly, Azhar put the ice on his tongue, knelt between her legs, and slid his tongue inside her.

She arched up under him. He lifted her higher, his hands cupping her rear. The ice had already melted, but it had served its purpose. She was wet, hot and already swollen. The last time he had lingered, this time he brought her to a climax swiftly, licking over her and into her and then over her, the sweet rush of her orgasm making him pulse in response, his tongue sweeping over her as her climax ebbed, bringing another rush, and then a final one. Her hands were digging into his shoulders. The soft flesh at the top of her thighs was damp. She lay sprawled on the scarlet cushions, her hair spread like a halo around her, her breasts heaving delightfully, her face suffused with colour. And her eyes, cloudy with sated passion, still fixed on him.

It was a primal response, this surge of male pride that he had given her such pleasure, but he relished it. His shaft jutted painfully in the constraints of his trousers. He could not remember ever feeling so aroused. Five, six strokes inside the slick heat of her, would be all it would take. But Azhar wanted much more than five or six strokes. He could wait, even if it meant tipping the last of the ice down his front. He looked at Julia, all creamy flesh and pink nipples and dark auburn curls between her legs, and he realised what he needed most was to stop looking at her.

He got to his feet, reaching for her hand to pull her upright. ‘I will leave you to—to rearrange yourself,’ he said.

‘But what about you?’

‘I too need to rearrange myself,’ Azhar said wryly.

‘No, I meant...’

‘I know what you meant. This was simply another staging post on our journey of discovery, Julia. Not one I had planned, but I promise you, a most delightful way station for me as well as you.’

* * *

Julia was eyeing the pastries with intent when Azhar returned, his hair wet, the flush faded from his skin. It was foolish to feel shy but she did, and even more foolish to be embarrassed by the appetite their lovemaking had given her, but she was.

‘Eat, please,’ Azhar said, when she turned resolutely away from the table. ‘But avoid the cinnamon-and-sugar ones, for the sake of my sanity.’

She studied him from under her lashes as she took sustenance. Would anyone be able to tell what they had just shared, by looking at them? Azhar, staring off into space, his plate of food all but untouched, looked his usual remote self, while she felt as if the wild, sensual creature she had become must still surely be etched on her face, even if she had rearranged her clothing and subdued her hair under her scarf.

She nibbled on a sugared almond and poured herself another glass of sherbet. Fifteen minutes ago Azhar had been flushed with passion. Not long before that, his face had been set, his eyes dark with anger. Though it still seemed incomprehensible to her that he could walk away from all this, she did understand his desire for freedom. Bad enough being wed to Daniel, but to marry a kingdom...

Bad enough! Julia set down her sherbet glass carefully. Her marriage was not bad. She had not been unhappy, and she knew of worse, far worse marriages. But she had not been happy either. Azhar had likened Qaryma to a gilded cage. Julia smiled at the notion of describing her marriage in such a way, yet there was no doubt she had felt confined by it. The promises she had made to Daniel constrained her still, though in a way, they had also helped her grasp her freedom. Without the impetus of completing his book she would not have come here, would not have tested her resourcefulness, would never have discovered the sensual side of her nature which had been subdued for so long. Would never have met Azhar.

Looking at him, recalling what had passed between them right here less than an hour before, she felt the most delightful shiver. She was not yet free, but the process of claiming her freedom was proving far more enjoyable than she could ever have imagined.

* * *

Azhar ushered her through the marble pillars. ‘Why are there no guards?’ Julia asked.

‘Because I had them stand down while we are here.’

‘Oh. What about the Second Court, did you have that cleared too?’

‘Not cleared, it is the main thoroughfare through the palace, but I asked that only those with urgent business be allowed to pass through.’

‘Asked or commanded?’

Azhar shrugged. ‘To most here it amounts to the same thing.’ He lifted the heavy iron bar that held the double doors together, and threw them wide. ‘The Divan.’

The room was about fifty feet long with a domed roof crowned by a gold crescent in the very centre. Gold constellations were painted on the ceiling, and the floor was worked in an intricate pattern of turquoise-and-gold mosaic. In contrast, the walls were stark white relieved only by a thin band of gold and turquoise. Aside from the huge carved chair upholstered with cloth of gold, the vast space was completely empty.

‘My brother and I used to play in here as children,’ Azhar said. ‘We used to race with our wooden horses, stage mock fights with our wooden scimitars.’

‘So you were close when you were younger, then?’

‘There are only two years between us,’ Azhar replied. ‘Our mother died in childbirth two years after Kamal was born, and our father never took another wife.’

‘Is that unusual?’ Julia asked in surprise. ‘Wasn’t he lonely?’

‘My father married as all kings of Qaryma marry, for the sake of an heir. Since my mother provided him with two, he did not feel the need to take another wife. As to whether he was lonely—if you mean did he take lovers then the answer is yes. He enjoyed the company of women in that way. It is one of the few things we have in common.’

‘Two things,’ Julia said, before she could stop herself. ‘You both take lovers, but neither of you offers love.’

The look he drew her was measured. ‘As you say. And what about you, Julia?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Do you still have room in your heart for love?’

‘If by that, do you mean will I ever marry again, the answer is an unequivocal no. My freedom is not quite so hard-earned as yours, but it is every bit as precious,’ Julia said. ‘But we are not here to talk about me. Tell me more of the Council meetings that take place here.’

‘Under my father they convened three times a week, though Kamal has reduced it to once. Membership is hereditary, representing the oldest families in the kingdom, although the King also has the authority to invest a man with specialist knowledge or skills. The Chief Overseer in charge of the diamond mines, for example.’

‘So the Council which meets now is the one your father selected?’

‘Kamal has nominated a number of younger men. A number of my father’s associates have stepped down.’

Azhar was pinching the bridge of his nose. It was a habit he had when he was unhappy about something, Julia had noticed. ‘That may be a good thing. Younger men often have a more progressive outlook,’ she suggested.

‘Or they may be more easily swayed. Although the King of Qaryma wields absolute power, it is easier to rule with the Council on your side. My brother has always been overly fond of getting his own way. He does not take well to having his will thwarted, but nor is he particularly strong-willed.’ Azhar grimaced. ‘A compliant Council is an ideal solution.’

An ideal solution for a weak ruler. Julia braced herself, for she understood now how very much he did not want to hear her question. ‘Are you quite certain that you wish to hand over your kingdom to such a man? Can you trust Kamal?’

‘Have you seen enough?’ Azhar walked away, holding open double doors at the other end of the Divan. ‘These will take us out to the Third Court. I am not ignoring your question, Julia,’ he said, as she passed him. ‘I am considering how best to answer it.’

The Third Court was about half the size of the Second, and a very different space. Two large pavilions sat adjacent to each other. There was a fountain in each corner, a low, precisely trimmed maze, and more mosaic paths. ‘This court is reserved for the royal family,’ Azhar said. ‘Those gates in the wall lead to what was once the old-style harem complete with concubines and eunuchs. My mother had it opened up, and turned into what is simply the women’s quarters. Some of her former maidservants still reside there along with Kamal’s wife.’

‘I’m surprised that someone as obviously greedy as your brother has only one.’

‘He may have his faults but he is still my brother. I would appreciate it if you kept such thoughts to yourself. Apart from anything else if overheard they might be considered treasonous.’

‘My apologies, it was a poor attempt at humour,’ Julia said contritely. ‘Where are we now?’

‘This building is the library,’ Azhar said, opening the door of the largest pavilion which on closer inspection was cruciform in shape. ‘We will be comfortable in there.’

The door to the library was panelled in bronze. Glass-fronted bookcases lined the walls of each of the arms of the cruciform, while light poured in through the windows set into the domed roof at the centre, where a huge round couch was placed. Azhar sat down here, indicating that Julia should join him.

He stretched his long legs out in front of him and folded his arms. ‘You asked if Kamal and I were close. You would imagine that we would be so, with only two years between us, no mother, no other siblings, but we were not. I was a typical boy in many ways. I liked to ride—horses and camels—I liked to fight with my sword and my fists, I liked to swim and to run. Kamal—well, Kamal has always been indolent. Unfortunately, our father was a man who valued what he called masculine prowess. In my father’s eyes, Kamal was less of a boy because he did not shine as I did at such things. I never—how do you say it—rubbed his face in it?’

‘Nose.’

‘Nose. Well, I never did that, but it didn’t matter. Kamal was jealous. I think there was a part of him that wished to emulate me. And he relied on me too, to play the big brother, even though he would rather he was the elder brother, you know? He was always outreaching himself, relying on me to bail him out when he came unstuck. Like the occasion when he took liberties with the sister of one of our friends, and her brothers set upon him.’

‘He must have resented you,’ Julia said.

‘That has not changed,’ Azhar said wearily.

‘It must have been difficult for him to stomach,’ she added, thinking that that had not changed either. ‘Taller, stronger, faster.’ Much more attractive.

‘And my worst crime of all. Older.’

‘The heir, by accident of birth. A heinous crime indeed,’ Julia agreed wryly.

‘I know, but I believe Kamal really does believe it is my fault.’

‘You don’t like him much, do you?’

Azhar winced. ‘I try not to let it show, but he is not stupid. Weak and petty and indolent, but far from stupid. I am not blinded by my determination to abdicate, Julia. All Kamal needs is the incentive to improve. Once he knows that Qaryma is his, that I truly am out of his life for ever, then he will prove himself.’

But she was beginning to suspect that Azhar was blinded. Like her, he craved his freedom, but there the similarities ended. Daniel was dead. Azhar’s love of his kingdom had merely been buried. He was an honourable man with a strong sense of duty. This notion he had, that he could set Qaryma to rights and Kamal too, it was a most laudable intention, but it was impossible.

Julia’s toes curled inside her slippers, but honesty was what Azhar had requested of her, and true to herself was what she had resolved to be. ‘You have set yourself a herculean task if you plan to remedy things in just three short weeks, and—and I think you should ask yourself why,’ she said carefully. ‘No matter how much you deny it, you care for your kingdom, and you know in your heart that your brother is not fit to rule—will never be half the man that you are. You may quell your conscience by shoring things up, by remedying whatever problems you uncover. That may permit you to enjoy your freedom for a few more years, but it will be what it has always been—a mirage. You will be obliged to come back eventually. I am so sorry, Azhar, but whether you like it or not, the one thing you cannot abdicate from is your conscience.’

Azhar got to his feet. He was angry, she could see the pulse beating in his throat, but he was making a huge effort not to show it. ‘I will not permit you to condemn me to a lifetime of captivity until you understand what that would entail. And the price I have to pay. Come with me.’

‘Where are we going?’

He strode out of the library, across the Third Court to yet another set of iron gates, which he opened with a huge key, ushering her through a passageway to a door, which he then heaved open. ‘The Fourth Court,’ Azhar declared.

* * *

It was a square formed by three high walls and one low parapet. In the centre was a kiosk, but it was the gardens which drew Julia’s attention, for they were laid out not at all in the formal style of the Third Court, but in a riot of colour, more in the style of an English cottage garden than the garden of an Arabian king.

The space was surprisingly intimate. Aromatic herbs planted at the edges of the winding mosaic paths scented the air as her tunic brushed against them. The parapet looked out over Al-Qaryma to the oasis and the desert beyond, the same view as the large garden, but from a higher viewpoint. That wall there must form the boundary between the two. Rushing from one path to the next, she found a tantalising mixture of flowers and shrubs, some exotic, some quintessentially English, all jostling for space, and living happily together in a way she would not have given any credence to had she not seen it for herself.

‘It is as if someone has commanded the East to merge with the West,’ Julia exclaimed. ‘A secret garden, whose is it?’

‘The Fourth Court is exclusively for the use of the King of Qaryma.’

Julia’s eyes widened. ‘Your father’s private quarters?’ While she had been running from path to path, Azhar had remained quite still at the door of the Court. This was no magical garden for him. It was his father’s inner sanctum. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I should not have allowed myself to get so carried away.’

Azhar shrugged. ‘I had forgotten,’ he said. ‘I don’t remember it being so—’ He broke off making a vague gesture. ‘Seeing it through your eyes, I can see it is—I can understand your surprise.’

‘Who tends to it?’

Another shrug. ‘The palace has an army of gardeners. There is an entrance door in the connecting wall to the main garden where you have been working.’

Julia hadn’t noticed a door, and she had spent hours and hours in the other garden, but now was hardly the time to ask if it was possible to...

‘I’ll have someone give you the key,’ Azhar said, as if he had read her mind. ‘If you really want to paint this, that is. I doubt there are any new species for you to catalogue.’

‘It is the unexpectedness of it that appeals to me. I had not thought—that is, I thought your father—all this, it does not really equate with the man I imagined.’

‘No?’

Azhar’s expression was unreadable, but there were tiny lines of tension around his eyes, and the pulse still throbbed at his throat, a sure sign that he was discomfited. She touched his arm lightly but he turned away towards the building which stood in the centre of the Court. ‘This is the Royal Kiosk,’ he said.

The kiosk had two storeys, the broad roof overhanging to form an arcade which surrounded the building. A huge gilded dome emerged from the centre of the roof, with a small minaret sitting incongruously beside it. The marbled exterior was, like the kiosk in the main garden, alabaster white, throwing the brilliant colours of the tall stained-glass windows, six on each storey on the façade alone, into stark relief.

Azhar opened the double door with another key and stepped aside for Julia to enter. The room was breathtaking in its beauty and of staggering size, for it was double height, taking up the entire length of the kiosk, the ceiling arching up into the gilded dome at the centre of the roof giving it a cathedral-like ambiance. Light streamed in, vivid rays of emerald, red and blue, dancing over the intricate mosaic floor. The walls were tiled to the first-floor level, in rich glazed colours that gleamed, as if they had been polished. From the dome hung the biggest chandelier Julia had ever seen, on a very long chain, set over the marble table chased with gold which stood in the very centre of the room. At the furthest end, set into a window embrasure, was an enormous divan. There was no other furniture in the huge space.

‘Another throne room,’ Julia said, her voice hushed.

‘This is where my father conducted his private audiences. He signed his official papers and royal decrees at that table. This is the room from which he ruled and wielded power.’

Julia turned in circle, her head back, gazing up at the dome. ‘When you said this was your father’s private quarters, I imagined something more intimate.’

Azhar’s smile was twisted. ‘There are some anterooms at the rear of the kiosk, it is bigger than it looks from the outside, but this room is where my father spent most of his time.’

Julia shuddered. It was an intimidating space for one man to occupy, but then she supposed that was the point. ‘Well, now I can at least understand the garden,’ she said. ‘Of course it is a very clever design trick,’ she added, when Azhar looked at her questioningly, ‘It seems so wild, uncontrolled, so natural and yet that can only be achieved by meticulous planning.’

Azhar was prowling restlessly around the room, stopping every now and then, his eyes drawn to the divan. Judging from his stormy expression, his memories were extremely unpleasant. ‘My father liked to control everything, even nature,’ he said bitterly. ‘It was in this very room that I last saw him. It was here that he informed me that if I left I would never be welcomed back. Growing up, my father tried to shape me and cultivate me like that garden out there. Tame any wildness, impose order. As I grew older the constraints became unbearable, but the more I protested, the more repressive he became. I am a man of action, have always been a man of action, yet he would not let me do anything. He wanted to control every minute of every hour of my time. Growing up here as heir, Julia, my life was not my own.’

He spoke with such passion, she couldn’t help but empathise. Her marriage bonds were as nothing to the bonds a king-in-waiting must bear. ‘I can see now why you felt you had no option but to leave.’

‘He gave me no option. I was desperate to go earlier, but until I was twenty-one I could not do so without his permission. At the time, all I wanted was the taste of freedom, not to leave Qaryma for ever, but to be free to leave for a period and then return. He would not grant me even temporary freedom.’

‘Perhaps because he knew that once you tasted freedom you wouldn’t come back,’ Julia said.

Azhar shrugged. ‘It is impossible now to know whether that was true. If I had left at sixteen or seventeen or even twenty, with my father’s good wishes, without the need to make my own way, to pay my own way, I would not have started my business. I would not have sown the seeds of the life which I have grown for myself outside Qaryma. I would in all likelihood have returned, but I cannot be certain.’

‘Your father was a fool, if you ask me,’ Julia said. ‘I’m sorry if that is treasonous, but it’s true. He should have known that trying to keep you in Qaryma was a recipe for disaster. There is nothing more tempting than forbidden fruit. His behaviour more or less guaranteed your departure.’

Azhar laughed dryly. ‘As the date of my birthday drew nearer, I began to dread that my father would be taken ill. That he might die before I could escape was one of my greatest fears.’

‘But you did escape.’

‘On the very morning I achieved my majority. “I am twenty-one,” I said to him, “you can’t stop me from leaving.”

‘“But I can prevent you from returning,” he said to me. And so, in a way, he granted me my freedom. Freedom, Julia.’ Azhar grinned. ‘For the first time, to be free to do what I wanted when I wanted, to go where I wanted—to answer to no one. You cannot imagine how good that felt.’

‘I can,’ she said warmly.

‘Of course you can.’ He pressed her hand. ‘We want the same thing, after all. As time passed, as I began to establish my business, to make a life for myself, I quickly realised that I would never return. That my father had actually done me a favour by exiling me.’

‘And allowing you to become a man of action.’

‘With every action my own. I had escaped. I was no longer a King-in-waiting defined by my kingdom, I was my own man defined by my own success—and in the early days, my failures too. I love my business, Julia. It is a—an integral part of me. If I remained here, as King, I would have to give it up. I won’t do that,’ Azhar continued, his tone harsh. ‘I left my father with a son who valued what I did not, a son he could have moulded into his image as he had tried to mould me. Kamal is much more malleable. But my father...’

‘You think that your father was blind to Kamal’s weaknesses?’

‘I doubt it. But I don’t understand why he didn’t take steps to remedy them.’

‘Perhaps, despite your conviction to the contrary, it was because your father secretly hoped you might return.’

‘No! I am here as a punishment, not a reward. Kamal will rule, Julia, because I will not surrender my life to wed myself to Qaryma.’

‘Is it really such an onerous task?’ she asked hesitantly. ‘Couldn’t you appoint agents to run your business? I’m sorry, Azhar, but if being a king is truly so awful, then frankly I don’t understand why a weak man like your brother would be so happy to take it on.’ She flinched at Azhar’s thunderous expression, but she had gone too far to stop now. ‘I know your brother only through what you have told me of him, and what you’ve told me has led me to surmise that he is selfish, that he is lazy and that self-sacrifice is anathema to him.’

Azhar said nothing, but his eyes were flinty. He didn’t like what she was saying. She hated saying it, but she owed it to them both to continue. ‘The people of Qaryma love you, Azhar. They respect you. They want you and not your brother. I know you think that it’s undeserved.’ She paused, but still he said nothing. ‘You think that because Kamal remained by your father’s side, that he deserves it more,’ she forced herself to continue, ‘but—but you are the legal heir, you are the heir your father wanted, not Kamal. What’s more, with every sleepless night you spend trying to make this kingdom safe for your brother’s rule, you prove that you love it. How can you see this as a prison sentence, when it is so obviously what you are destined to do?’

She felt quite sick with dread, for she knew how painful her words were to him, but beneath it all she was proud of herself for having had the gumption to speak. Azhar slowly unclenched his fists. When he whirled around, she thought he was going to leave her, but instead he strode over to the divan and sat down.

‘I am Sheikh al-Farid, King Azhar of Qaryma,’ he declaimed. ‘I am the source of all power, all wisdom, all happiness. I am the infallible one. I make the laws and I enact the laws. None can question me. None can harm me.’

Her jaw dropped.

‘These are the words I would speak at my coronation, and his father before him. You may think those words ridiculous, mere ceremony, but it is what many people here in Qaryma believe. As King, I would wield absolute power, Julia. That is how Qaryma has always been ruled. There is no other way to rule, except not to rule.’

He pushed off his headdress to run his fingers through his hair, then held out his hand for her to join him. ‘Such power comes at a high price. It is extremely hard work to appear infallible,’ he said wryly. ‘My life would not be mine to command, it would belong to my people. Those words, the promises I would make if I took the crown, would require me to put this kingdom and these people first, before everything else.’

‘As you did, I imagine, over the last ten years, while building your trading empire.’

His smile became a grimace. ‘Exactly like that, which is part of the problem. Unlike my brother, I am incapable of doing things by half-measures. In ten years, I have never been satisfied with my achievements, have always been driven to conquer one more summit and one more. Can you imagine how I would be, when placed in charge of a kingdom?’

‘Selfless,’ Julia said.

She meant it as a compliment, but Azhar shook his head grimly. ‘No, for that implies that I would not resent it, and I would.’ He took her hand, lacing his fingers between hers. ‘You ask if I could appoint agents to run the business I have grown from nothing, the business which it the only thing I have of my own. The answer is that, yes, I could, if all I cared about was the money, but I don’t.’

‘No,’ Julia said with a smile. ‘It is the doing that you care about, isn’t it?’

‘Yes. The doing,’ Azhar repeated, pressing her hand. ‘And the travel—or at least—it is not so much wanderlust, that craving has been satisfied in the last ten years, but there is a difference between knowing that I can go wherever I choose, and knowing I can go only where my kingdom requires me to go, do you see?’

She nodded once more. She was beginning to see very clearly. Azhar’s reference to Qaryma as a gilded cage seemed now an appalling understatement. ‘You would be wedded to your kingdom.’

‘And expected to wed for the kingdom,’ Azhar said dryly, ‘a fitting bride taken for the sole purpose of producing an heir, whose sole purpose would be to inherit all this. And so it would go on. I won’t do it, Julia.’

She pressed his hand to her cheek. ‘The problem is, Azhar, that you are so honourable, and so incapable of giving anything less than your all, that you would do it, if you had to. You could not be half a king, could you?’

‘No. Now do you understand why I cannot be one at all?’

Julia bit her lip. ‘Yes,’ she said. It was not a lie. She understood perfectly why he would not, and why he must leave, but she could not imagine how he was going to salve his conscience afterwards.