Читать книгу Hot Arabian Nights - Marguerite Kaye - Страница 17

Chapter Ten

Wearily rubbing her neck and rolling her shoulders, for she had been working since first light, Julia took a sliver of melon from her untouched luncheon tray. Outside, the sky was newly washed by yesterday’s storm, a celestial blue with not a single cloud to mar it. Though she had any number of loose ends to tie up in order to complete Daniel’s treatise, and despite Daniel’s watch ticking away remorselessly, almost reproachfully, Julia decided that she was going to steal some of the remaining time for herself, and start work on capturing the hidden garden in the Fourth Court.

* * *

Half an hour later, bathed and changed into her favourite tunic of lemon muslin, pale-green trousers and matching slippers, Julia turned the key in the door which connected the two gardens. It was like stepping into a perfumed bath, scented by all the familiar flowers and herbs of home, mingling with the exotic, more heady scents of the desert. She closed her eyes, trying to fix every single element in her head in the elusive hope that one day she would be able to recapture it, perhaps even recreate it in a garden of her own. But for the moment she would try to preserve it in watercolours.

Azhar was sitting on a stone bench in the shade of an archway where roses grew in wild profusion. He was staring out over the parapet at the desert, lost in his own thoughts, and did not see her. He was dressed in white silk, his formal robes, though he had cast off his cloak and headdress. His hair, recently cropped, sat like a silk cap on his head, the ruthlessly short cut drawing attention to the sharp planes of his cheeks. The starkness of his beauty stole her breath away, but the bleakness of his expression twisted her heart. Setting her painting equipment on to the path, she stepped lightly forward, joining him on the bench.

‘Julia.’

Azhar put his arm around her, tilting her head on to his shoulder, pulling her tight against him. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest. The soap he used was scented with lemons. Through the silk of his tunic, his skin was warm. Their legs were touching, thigh to knee. She shifted her foot to rest her slipper against his boot, and he stirred, kissing the top of her head, releasing her but only to push back her headdress, to run his fingers through her hair, and then to kiss her slowly, lingeringly, with a hint of desperation, before releasing her a second time.

‘Julia. How did you know I would be here?’

‘I didn’t. I came to paint.’ She smoothed out the frown which furrowed his brow.

‘The first time I showed you this garden—this secret garden—you said you thought it would give my father solace, a private place of refuge. I didn’t understand you then, but I do now.’

‘What has happened, Azhar?’ she asked, already dreading the answer.

He shook his head, the sensuous curve of his mouth turned down in an expression of such pain that she almost couldn’t bear to look at it. ‘Kamal?’ she whispered, taking his hand.

His fingers gripped hers painfully as he nodded. ‘I realised last night that I could put it off no longer,’ he said harshly. ‘That cursed watch I brought you. So little time left to set matters to rights, I thought. And now...’ His voice cracked. ‘Now I have all the time in the world.’

‘You have decided to stay?’

He swallowed hard. ‘I have no choice.’

She listened as he recounted his interview with Kamal, biting back indignant exclamations, while a deep, burning anger at the weak, selfish, unworthy man who called himself Azhar’s brother grew inexorably.

‘He was completely unrepentant,’ Azhar finished. ‘He seemed to think that the diamonds were some sort of legitimate compensation for his regency.’

‘How do you intend to deal with him?’

Azhar shook his head dejectedly. ‘It will bring shame and dishonour to our royal name if I publicly accuse him, and shame and dishonour upon myself if I do not.’

‘I don’t know what to say. I can’t even begin to imagine how you must feel.’

‘You are the only person on this earth who can,’ Azhar replied with a ghost of a smile. ‘No one knows me as you do. You know what a poisoned chalice the crown of Qaryma will be to me. You, and only you, understand what it will cost me.’

‘Oh, Azhar, I wish with all my heart that you did not have to do this. If there was any other way...’ Julia stopped, her voice clogged with tears.

‘Don’t cry, I beg you. It had to be done and cannot be undone.’

‘Then I shall not cry,’ she said with a sniff and a faltering smile. ‘To learn that your father actually kept track of your whereabouts—that he was proud of you—that at least, is one positive thing to emerge from this, is it not?’

‘Another poisoned chalice. If I am completely honest, I am not at all sure that I would have responded to that first summons, had Kamal actually sent it,’ Azhar said, looking troubled. ‘It would have been my opportunity to make my peace with my father, but I fear I would have seen the price as too high to pay, Julia, suspecting that if I came back I would not be capable of leaving a second time. A suspicion that I have just now managed to prove was well founded. But I deeply regret that I did not make my peace with my father.’

‘You cannot bear the sole burden of guilt,’ Julia said decidedly. ‘Your father waited nine years before extending the olive branch, and even then he did it only because he fell ill. Nine years which have served to make you the man you are, and that man will be a better ruler for the experience.’

‘Thank you,’ Azhar said, kissing her hand. ‘I know you say these things only to ease my guilt, but I appreciate the sentiments.’

‘I say these things because they are true. And the most important truth of all is that it is the—the essence of you, the man in here,’ she said, laying her hand over his heart, ‘the honourable man who can give nothing less than his all, whether it is to his business or his country, that’s what makes you the best King Qaryma will ever have.’

‘And now I have made you cry again.’

Julia shook her head. ‘I’m not—it is not you. I wish—oh, Azhar, I wish there was something I could do to help you.’

He brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb. His eyes were dark, still troubled. ‘Do you mean that?’

The way he looked at her made icy fingers of fear clutch at her heart. ‘What do you require of me?’

Azhar got to his feet, clasping his hands behind his back, looking out over the parapet at the desert. ‘If I am to do this, if I am to wear the crown, then it is best that I do so as soon as possible. From now on, my time will not be my own—I cannot afford to be distracted, Julia.’

Her heart plummeted. ‘I see,’ she said, trying to keep the disappointment and sense of rejection from her voice. She knew she had no right to feel that way but there it was regardless.

‘No, you don’t.’ Azhar caught her as she made to turn away from him. ‘These last few weeks, the precious time we have spent together has been the only ray of sunshine in what has been a torrid experience. I have come to greatly value your judgement, to rely on being able to talk matters over with you, knowing that you will always be honest with me, no matter what the cost. A rarity for a man in my position, believe me, since no one dares challenge my judgement.’

‘You will be Sheikh al-Farid, King Azhar of Qaryma,’ Julia intoned, quoting the words he had once recited from the coronation. ‘You will be the font of all wisdom, the provider of all happiness. The infallible one, whom none may question. Do I have that right?’

‘Almost word perfect,’ Azhar said. ‘Unfortunately,’ he added with a twisted smile. ‘Which means that our spending time together must come to a halt. I must start as I mean to go on Julia—alone. My decisions must be my own, and my desire for you—you know how strongly I desire you—but it can have no place in my life now either. I must dedicate myself to my kingdom. When they place the crown on my head, I will belong to Qaryma. And I plan to be crowned as soon as it can be arranged.’

‘Are you afraid that if you delay, you might not go through with it?’

He flinched, for her tone was sharp, but he met her gaze openly. ‘Yes.’

The simple admission broke down all her defences. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t bear to make things more difficult for you. I will do whatever you ask.’

The relief which flooded his face was her reward. He pulled her into his arms, kissing her gently. ‘I ask only that you understand.’

‘I do.’

‘Thank you.’ He kissed her again. ‘You will use the extra time usefully, I hope?’

‘I—yes. Johara told me of an oasis where there is a unique kind of moss, I had hoped—but it is not necessary. I have more than enough to occupy my last—the time I have remaining here, thank you.’ Was this the end? Was he expecting her to say goodbye? No, she could not believe it, there were arrangements to be made, a guide to hire—no, she would not allow herself to think that this was the last time she would see him. Utterly dejected, Julia cast around for her drawing equipment. ‘I wanted to paint this secret garden, but if you are going to be in residence at the Royal Kiosk...’

‘I will have someone inform you when the garden is unoccupied so you may work undisturbed.’

She could feel the tears welling. She would not allow them to fall. Muttering another thank you, Julia picked up her painting box and fled.

* * *

Julia set down her paintbrush and studied the two landscapes critically. In the three days since she had last seen Azhar, she had been working on them almost exclusively. The light was not yet perfectly captured in the seascape, but she was pleased with the mood.

Aisha, setting the dinner tray down on the table, studied the almost-finished works. ‘These are beautiful. This is your home?’ she asked. ‘I have never seen the sea. It is vast and so beautiful.’

Julia nodded. ‘Much as your desert is for me.’ She had always considered Marazion Bay her home, though she had not lived there since she married Daniel. The house she had shared with her husband near Truro, leased from an acquaintance of her father’s, would be occupied by someone else by now. After the funeral, Julia had boxed up their few possessions and had them placed in storage at her father’s house. He had assumed that she would come to live with him when she returned from her supposed visit to the Highlands.

Julia had no idea what she was going to do with her freedom once she attained it. She had not thought beyond fulfilling her promises to Daniel, but those would take her perhaps three, at the most six months more to execute. Her work here in Arabia was already completed. Now that she had finished the landscapes for Azhar, she intended to spend what time remained painting the pictures which would become her own personal mementos of her momentous time here.

Aisha had finished setting out the dainty array of dishes on the table. ‘Prince Azhar is very busy preparing for his coronation,’ she said.

There was sympathy in her eyes. ‘Yes, I know,’ Julia said. Now that it was almost over, she could not see the point in pretending that Aisha didn’t know how often Azhar visited her here. Aisha had proven herself the soul of discretion and Julia was happy to have her company. ‘He told me he would be unable to visit again.’

Aisha ushered her to the table. ‘As it should be,’ she said with a smile. ‘Prince Azhar is an honourable man. It is known that he spends much time with you. You are a foreigner, you have no husband and you are so skinny,’ she said with a small smile. ‘People cannot understand why he does not take a more suitable mistress.’

Colour flooded Julia’s cheeks. Living so isolated from the rest of the palace, it had been easy for her to pretend that the nature of her relationship with Azhar was privy to no one save Aisha. Knowing that she had been the subject of gossip, none of it flattering, was mortifying. ‘I have caused a scandal,’ she said, putting her hands to her flaming cheeks.

Aisha shook her head. ‘No, people understand that Prince Azhar is a virile man with needs...’ Her mime made it quite clear what she thought Azhar needed. ‘It is shocking that you are a foreigner, but we are not shocked by his having a mistress.’

‘But after his coronation?’ Julia asked with a sinking feeling.

‘After, it would be unthinkable,’ Aisha said, shaking her head vehemently. ‘A king must be above reproach. But I tell everyone that you are returning to England, and that when you are back there,’ she concluded with a reassuring smile, pointing to Julia’s painting, ‘you will find a fine English husband. So when he has been crowned, King Azhar can find a fine Arabian princess. As it should be, yes? Both happy.’

Both happy. As the door closed behind Aisha, Julia pushed the plate of delicious food she had been served aside. Aisha had not meant to hurt her. She had only said what Azhar had told her more obliquely himself. He must be aware of the scandal she would cause if she remained here after he had been crowned, yet he had said nothing of the damage her simple presence would do to his reputation—though when she thought back to that conversation, she could see that he had implied it. If he had made the situation so starkly clear, she would have insisted on leaving as soon as possible, but even in extremis, when his world was crashing down around him, Azhar had been thoughtful enough to ensure she had enough time to finish that blasted book of Daniel’s. While she had been selfishly focused only on being deprived of Azhar’s company.

How long after he was crowned, would it be before he was expected to marry? For he would marry. Being Azhar, incapable of half-measures, he would do everything in his powers to be the best King possible. Which meant ensuring that there was a Crown Prince waiting to take his place when the time came. He’d told her that himself, in the Divan room—was it really less than two weeks ago?

Abandoning any notion of eating, Julia opened the window and stepped out into the cool evening air, making for her favourite spot under the lemon tree. Azhar would marry and produce an heir for the sake of his kingdom. She would never marry, for the sake of her hard-won freedom. That much had not changed, but something else had. And quite profoundly so. She leaned back against the bark of the tree, closing her eyes. She loved him. Dear heavens, how she loved him. A most fundamental shift, and a very, very unwise thing for her to have allowed to happen, for it changed nothing. None the less, she loved him.

The scent of the lemons reminded her of the soap Azhar used. Julia wrapped her arms around herself. When they lay on her divan in the aftermath of making love, his skin was salty, slick with sweat. He liked to pull her tight against him then, her bottom snuggled into his groin, one hand heavy on her waist, the other cupping her breast. When she touched him, when he was aroused and she stroked him slowly, her hand curled around his girth, tight and then looser, tight and then looser, his expression was almost one of pain. His fingers curled into the sheets in his efforts to control himself, but Julia had learned how to send him out of control. She knew how to touch the most sensitive spot to make him climax almost immediately. She had a similar spot and he knew exactly how to touch that too. She knew how to hold him tight inside her, to make him pulse, pulse, pulse, but to prevent his release. He could do things with his fingers and his mouth that kept her on the edge of her climax for what seemed like hours, and he could do other things that sustained her climax beyond what she thought possible. He had taught her to take delight in her body.

He was the perfect lover. If only she had been able to confine him to that role, but love was an insidious thing, like a desert flower lurking below the surface for years, waiting for the rains to give it life and make it bloom. How long had she been in love with Azhar without knowing it? She had known him less than a month. Was it possible to fall in love in such a short time? Apparently it was. She had known Daniel most of her life, her love for him had grown steadily and surely, but had she ever been passionately in love with him?

‘No,’ Julia said, ‘definitely not. Nothing compares to this.’

And nothing could ever come of it. She knew that, as surely as she knew that she was in love with Azhar. Her freedom meant everything to her, and freedom most certainly did not encompass tying herself to a man again. She had no idea what she wanted to do with her life, but she wanted the freedom to decide for herself. To make and learn from her own mistakes as Azhar had done during the last ten years, and to celebrate her own successes as he had done. Perhaps she would travel. Perhaps she would find a way to earn her living with her landscapes. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was free to choose, while Azhar...

Her heart contracted as it did every time she thought of his predicament. She longed to comfort him, but he had already locked her out of his life, already denied himself any solace. Daniel’s first love was his book. Azhar had made it clear that his one and only love must be Qaryma. Not even his wife, when he took one, would take precedence over his kingdom. Even were Julia considered suitable to be the wife of a king—which she most clearly was not—she would never want such a role.

Not even if it meant being by Azhar’s side?

‘No,’ she said aloud, this time even more firmly than the last, ‘because I would not be by his side. Qaryma would be his, and I would be his, but neither Azhar nor Qaryma would ever be mine.’

But dear heavens, how she loved him.

* * *

Azhar listened with one ear as his Council debated the exact route of the coronation procession, his mind racing ahead to consider the other equally tedious details to be discussed at the meeting, none of which he gave a camel’s hump about. He was resigned to going through the formality of a coronation, but the minutiae of the ceremony simply didn’t interest him.

The two most pressing matters which did occupy his thoughts were for the moment in abeyance, awaiting the response of the two men concerned. He was a man of action, he’d told Julia once. Certainly, in the three days that had passed since he saw her he had made countless decisions, but he had also spent an inordinate amount of time trying not to act, not to do the one thing he wanted above all, which was to go to Julia and lose himself in her arms.

He missed her. It would be easier when she was no longer resident in the palace, easier still when she had crossed Qaryma’s border en route to England, but for now, knowing that there were only a few walls separating them was making it ridiculously difficult to resist temptation.

He missed the sound of her laughter, and the tone of her voice. He missed the almost guilty expression she wore when she was about to tell him something she thought he didn’t want to hear. He missed the frown of concentration that wrinkled her brow when she sketched and the way she pressed her lips together when she painted—to prevent herself nibbling on the end of her paintbrush, she had once confessed to him. He missed the silkiness of her hair strewn across his chest after lovemaking, and the way her mouth curved then too, into an unashamedly satisfied smile that made him unaccountably proud to have been the cause of it.

This morning she would most likely be in the Fourth Court painting what she called the secret garden, since he had sent word that he would not be there. He would like to see how her work was progressing. Would she give him one of the paintings if he asked? He’d like to have something tangible to remember her by.

The Council had moved on to the menus for the various feasts, which they were debating with some gusto. The coronation was to take place in three days’ time, almost four weeks exactly since he and Julia had made their agreement. The desire to see her was painful. He had known from the moment that he had decided to stay, how vital it was that Julia left, how deeply improper it would be for him to consort with her after his coronation.

But would it really be such a sin for him to see her again before he was crowned? He had not informed her of the arrangements he was making on her behalf for her journey, and he ought to. In fact, his time would be far better spent doing that, than worrying about what people would eat on the day he handed his life over to his kingdom.

He was not fooling himself. Azhar sighed in irritation. He did not need an excuse to spend time with Julia. He had not handed his life over just yet. He had the right to claim one more day of freedom, and to spend it with the woman who was about to leave him for ever, to claim freedom for herself!

Azhar jumped to his feet, startling his Council into silence. ‘I have decided to entrust the final details of the ceremony to you,’ he said ‘In three days’ time I will dedicate my life to Qaryma. I require some time to prepare myself for this solemn undertaking, time to close the door on my old life, to ensure that when I begin this new life as your King, I come to you unburdened.’

This last remark drew some murmurs of approval and knowing looks that reminded Azhar of Kadar’s warning. No one would dare question Julia’s presence here, but everyone would be speculating. Until he was formally crowned, Julia’s position in Azhar’s life was none of their business but after—surveying his Council, he could see the relief in some of the older faces.

They wanted their King unburdened of the Englishwoman. Despite the fact that it merely confirmed what he already knew, it sickened him to be faced with this evidence of the silent pressure, the unspoken rules and traditions he would be forced to conform to in the future. It also fixed his resolve and decided him to grasp not one but every day he had left. ‘Until the eve of the coronation, my time will be exclusively my own. Any decisions to be made on anything other than the ceremony must be deferred.’

He waited, but not a single man seemed inclined to suggest the most logical alternative, which was to hand matters over to Kamal. None had questioned his brother’s sudden absence from council meetings either, nor that of the Chief Overseer, though they must know that Kamal was under informal house arrest, that the Chief Overseer was confined to the Cage. They would no doubt speculate as to the reasons for this.

He sighed. For the time being it would have to remain just that, idle speculation, until he was in a position to implement his planned solution. But that, and everything else, would have to wait. In three days’ time he would be King of Qaryma. Until then he would be simply Azhar.

* * *

It was dusk by the time they reached the oasis. ‘It is known as Little Zazim, not because it is close to the Zazim Oasis, but because it is...’

‘Almost a perfect replica, in miniature,’ Julia exclaimed, surveying the spot from her vantage point on the seat of her camel.

The lagoon was small, elliptical in shape, the water had the same silver-green sheen she remembered from the oasis where they had first met. A belt of lush vegetation encircled the waters almost entirely, leaving only one end of the lagoon exposed where the soft desert sands met the waters in what looked like a small crescent-shaped bay. Julia stared around her in wonder. ‘There is no one else here. Did you...?’

‘I wanted to ensure our privacy. There are some advantages to being a member of the royal family,’ Azhar said drily.

‘But people will know that you are here with me. They will be talking, Azhar, and—and they will be wishing me gone. I had no idea until Aisha said...’

‘I wish that Aisha had kept her mouth closed.’ Azhar leaned across to press her hand. ‘We discussed this before we left. I do not deny that your remaining here in Qaryma after the coronation would be unacceptable to my people, Julia, but I am not theirs to command just yet. I am sacrificing everything in three days’ time, I will not sacrifice this final opportunity to spend time with you, unless you have changed your mind. Do I ask too much of you? Would it have been easier for you if I had done as I said I would, and left you alone?’

‘No.’ She clutched his hand tightly. ‘If you can brazen out the scandal of my presence, then I can bear the shame of being the subject of palace gossip.’

‘I will not have you bear any shame,’ Azhar said fiercely.

Julia laughed. ‘You are not my King, Azhar. My feelings are my own to command.’

He smiled, twining his fingers in hers. ‘Your feelings and your life will be yours to command entirely very soon. You should be proud of yourself, Julia. I am proud of you.’

‘Thank you.’ The words were bittersweet, reminding her of all that she would be leaving behind, reminding her of all that Azhar would be giving up. She had wrestled with her conscience when he had come to her rooms this afternoon, having escaped his Council meeting, but her conscience had been no match for her heart. He did not love her, he would soon enough be duty-bound to love another woman, but for these next few precious days he would be hers alone.

Carefully holding on to the pommel, Julia leaned closer to Azhar and kissed him fully on the mouth. ‘There,’ she teased, ‘that is to prove that you were wrong when you said it was not possible to make love on a camel.’

‘I will accept that it is possible to begin to make love on a camel,’ Azhar replied, ‘but as to whether or not we can continue...’ He moved so swiftly that he left her breathless, commanding both beasts to their knees before sweeping Julia from the saddle, holding her high against his chest. ‘I prefer not to have to worry about controlling a camel, when I have sufficient to worry about, in controlling my appetite for you, Julia.’

She laced her arms around his neck. ‘Are you hungry, Azhar?’

His smile made her blood fizz. ‘Ravenous, Julia.’

‘Then please, abandon any attempt at controlling your appetite for me,’ she whispered into his ear, ‘because I too am starving.’

Her words made his eyes darken. Grabbing a blanket, leaving the mules and camels which formed their little caravan still tethered together in the care of his Saluki hound and his hawk, Azhar carried her swiftly across the sand, to the point where the trees and shrubs screened them from the rippling sands of the desert. Lying down on the blanket beside her, he kissed her softly, but Julia desired kisses as fierce and as wild as her love. She rolled on top of him, trapping his body underneath hers, and claimed his mouth, kissing him urgently, until his mouth and his hands became urgent too, pulling her tightly against the pulsing length of his erection.

Julia moaned. She wriggled, struggling to free herself of her pantaloons and relishing the way the movement made Azhar shudder, made her shiver. She kicked herself free of the garment as Azhar tore himself free of his trousers. She was struggling to pull her tunic over her head when he pulled her back on top of him, fastening his mouth around one of her nipples, and she could feel her climax building, already peaking.

‘Wait,’ Azhar said, trying to claim her mouth again, but Julia couldn’t wait. One more swift kiss, and then she slid him inside her, not slowly as she had done before, but urgently, drawing him in swiftly and deeply, making them both gasp with delight. The rhythm she set was fast, but he matched her, arching underneath her, pulling her tight against him with each thrust, with each thrust pushing hard, high, so that the illusion of control she harboured was quite lost as her climax ripped through her, and it was only his own last vestige of control that allowed him to lift her clear as he came too, crying out her name into the desert sky.

* * *

Their simple camp had none of the glamour of their previous trip to the desert, for they carried everything with them on the pack mules, but Julia knew that it would be this night she would remember most fondly. The Bedouin tent was Azhar’s own, a simple wooden frame covered with animal skins. As he set it up, Julia laid the fire. Dinner consisted of hare and vegetable stew, the meat more succulent than that first one they had shared, and Julia had to admit, far tastier, thanks to the palace cook who had prepared it for them. Afterwards, they sat together by the dying embers of the fire, looking up at the stars, watching the moon’s ghostly reflection dance on the gently rippling waters of the lagoon.

Julia was reluctant to disturb the perfect peace, but at the same time, she wanted to make the most of the opportunity to discover as much as possible about Azhar’s future. She would never know it, but she would like to try to imagine it. ‘Have you decided what to do with your brother?’

‘I think I have come up with a fitting solution,’ he said with a wry smile, ‘that is if I can persuade my friend Kadar to co-operate.’

‘The Prince who brought Daniel’s watch? What has he to do with it? Are you going to send Kamal into exile in his kingdom—what was it called?’

‘Murimon. No, I am not sending my brother into exile there, though he will certainly be spending some time in that kingdom—that is, as I said, if Kadar is agreeable.’

Julia must have looked as confused as she felt, for Azhar laughed. ‘Border controls,’ he said. ‘You know from personal experience that the black-market trade unfortunately flourishes. It is a much bigger problem for Kadar, whose kingdom has a very large coastline. As a trader myself, I thought that I had a good understanding of the shadier side of the business, but when I questioned Kamal as to how he had disposed of the diamonds he stole, I was quite taken aback at the extent of his knowledge. It made me realise how vulnerable we are, and how much work has to be done to put an end to it.’ Azhar grinned. ‘It also made me realise that I had the ideal man for the job.’

Julia burst into astonished laughter. ‘You plan to make your brother responsible for stamping out illegal trade?’

‘Unfortunately, no one knows better where to root out that illegal trade than Kamal.’

‘He surely won’t agree?’

Azhar’s expression hardened. ‘Offered the choice of that position or permanent house arrest, he had little option.’

‘You are right, it is a peculiarly apt solution, and one that avoids shaming your family name, as exile would. In England, we would say you had forced the poacher to become the gamekeeper. I think you have been very clever.’

‘Thank you. I wish my little brother was more grateful, but I fear I have earned his eternal enmity.’

‘Oh, I think you simply have to accept that you will endure Kamal’s enmity no matter what you do. Even if you had abdicated in his favour, he would have found a way to blame you for the chaos his rule would most certainly have brought to Qaryma,’ Julia said.

Azhar put his arm around her, pulling her head on to his shoulder. ‘I wish I could disagree with you.’

‘And what of his partner-in-crime, the Chief Overseer?’

‘Once I had settled on Kamal’s fate, I applied the same principle to his accomplice,’ Azhar said. ‘What you call poacher cum gamekeeper again. He has been stripped of his position on the Council, obviously, and has returned to the diamond mine in the rather less exalted position of guard, searching the miners at the end of every shift for any purloined gems.’

‘You do not fear that he will reveal your brother’s role in the crime?’

‘I made it crystal clear that I would have no compunction in exiling him if I heard so much as a rumour to that effect. I think his silence is ensured.’ Azhar sighed. ‘I thought long and hard about whether I was treating Kamal more leniently because he was my brother, but I honestly believe that he will suffer far more from the loss of prestige and the loss of his luxurious lifestyle than the Chief Overseer.’

‘I think you have been more than fair,’ Julia said. ‘I think you have been creatively just.’

She felt the rumble of his laughter against his cheek. ‘Have I told you that you have a unique perspective on life?’

She sat up, pulling his face towards her. ‘I like this perspective very much.’

Azhar ran his thumb along her lower lip. ‘Truly,’ he said, ‘it is a view I don’t think I could ever tire of either,’ he said, and kissed her.