My heart turns over in my chest at dad’s obvious concern.
The next message is more of the same.
The third is more frantic still. “Amy, I have no idea where you are. Not at the palace, I gather, so where? Nobody knows. I’m worried. Call me.”
I hang up the phone quickly, all the heat draining from my face.
“What is it?”
How does Zahir know? How can he tell something’s wrong?
I shake my head, anxiety making it impossible to tell him. “How long until we’re back?”
He looks towards the horizon. “Twenty minutes.”
I nod uneasily. I’ll call him once we’ve arrived. In private, so I can explain.
“Amy?”
I wait silently.
“You’re a terrible liar. Tell me what’s happened.”
“Nothing’s happened,” I murmur. “It’s just –,”
“Yes?”
“Dad.” I sigh heavily. “He’s heard about our wedding.”
“As I would have expected.”
My jaw drops. “I honestly thought we’d have a bit longer.”
“Why? You’re familiar with how events like this are covered in the press.”
“Maybe, but I thought…our wedding was so small, so quick. No fanfare, no photos.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m the Sheikh of Qabid.”
“You should have told me,” I groan weakly.
“I was under the impression you were aware of my position,” he responds with a tight smile.
I don’t return it.
“It didn’t occur to me. I’m not used to this.” Stupid, stupid me. “You called me naïve. Turns out you were right.”
His hands tighten on the steering wheel. “I should have discussed this with you. I apologise.”
It’s the last thing I expect him to say. I turn to face Zahir as he looks at me, and something powerful lurches in my abdomen.
“He had to find out at some time.”
“I guess I just imagined breaking it to him myself,” I mutter.
“Would it have helped?”
“If I could have softened the blow with the news that he could return to Qabid,” I point out.