‘You couldn’t lose Layla,’ he reiterated, and then admitted what he perhaps shouldn’t. ‘I have already asked her to marry me and she laughed in my face. She said she would not turn her back on her country and you. I am as sure as I can be that Layla would only ever leave with your blessing—and, if she did, she would return often with love and gratitude to you.’
Mikael had nothing left. He had used every argument he could, every weapon in his arsenal, had planned every move to the endgame.
It was as if the Queen that Layla so sorely missed had nudged him to checkmate.
Yes, it was for the King to decide now—but before he did, Mikael voiced the one united thought of everyone present in the room.
Even Queen Annan.
‘I love Layla.’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
‘READY?’ TRINITY ASKED.
‘I am,’ Layla said, though her heart was breaking.
Of course she was ready, she told herself. She had known for ever that this day had to come.
‘I have my memories and I have all my dreams…’
‘You do.’
Trinity was torn. It was like taking a beautiful lamb to slaughter; how she wanted to tell Layla that Mikael was here, and yet Zahid had told her not to.
In this she had to trust that her husband knew best.
Layla walked down the palace stairs, determined to see this through without breaking down—and then she saw the closed doors and thought of the men behind it, and Hussain.
She looked down to her wrist, at the tiny little mark there, and knew that the match had burned more than twice for now it flared again.
‘No!’ Layla screamed, and went to run up the stairs.
Jamila grabbed her arms and a guard caught her by her dress as she dropped to the floor.
‘She’s having another seizure!’ Jamila shouted.
‘No!’
She kicked and she fought and Mikael, who was kneeling with the other suitors as the King sat on his throne, lowered his head and smiled as he heard her scream his name, weep and beg that she wanted to die a virgin spinster if she could just dream of him each night. It was the sound of torture, but it came from love.
Mikael lifted his head and looked to Hussain, who was kneeling to his right. It had to be him, for he was an arrogant and pompous git, but he was sweating now as he was shamed for a second time. Mikael felt another gaze on him then, and looked over into the tired eyes of the King as Layla’s screams continued to fill the palace.
‘Perhaps you can handle her?’ the King said to Mikael.
Fahid was weary and, though he would never admit it, it was quite a relief that Mikael was here today—especially now, as Mikael stood and took over the rebel princess.
He would take care of her, Fahid knew, and he felt the first glimmer of peace as they walked out of the room to the spectacle that awaited. He loved his wild daughter so…
‘Layla…’ Mikael’s fingers gripped her cheeks just in time to stop her biting a guard. ‘It is time to choose your husband.’
Layla thought she was dreaming—for dressed in robes of white and gold, and just so beautiful, was the man who would for ever live in her dreams. Not a night had passed since their parting that hadn’t been spent together in her mind.
‘Mikael…’ She stood for a sixth of a second, then leapt like a cat into his arms.
‘Layla!’ her father scolded as Mikael put her down. ‘You are to follow tradition.’
‘Father, I don’t understand…’ She frowned. She could barely make sense of anything; she looked to her father and simply didn’t understand how Mikael was here or what was going on.
‘Mikael has spoken with Zahid and me today. He wants to give you a life in Australia but you shall return here often. It is up to you if you choose this man as your husband.’