“Then give it to my wife,” I say dismissively.
Aliya’s face is pale, her hand lifting as she holds a crumpled piece of paper towards me. It’s thick, like cardboard.
/> “It was in one of the dresses from your state visit to Thakirt,” she says with a tightening of her lips. “It has been laundered, hence the damage to the paper, but you can still make out some of the writing if you look closely.”
I take the paper from her with curiosity now, not sure what I expect to see.
I study the damaged stationery, angling it until, as Aliya said, I can make out some words written in tiny black script. English has been used, which makes sense if the note was in Amy’s pocket, though the spelling is poor, so I presume she was not the writer of the note.
You fater’s freind. A meating. Important.
A light seems to be blinding me from the side of my head as I read the note, over and again, wanting to find an explanation that nullifies the importance of this, that removes my wife from suspicion. But the more I think about it, the more I realise there is at least a base level of complicity in her having this note in her possession, even if she didn’t act on it.
“You haven’t mentioned this to anyone else?”
Aliya’s expression shows consternation. “No, your highness. I wanted to bring it directly to you.”
“I’m glad; you did the right thing.” My frown deepens. “Thank you. I’ll handle it.”
At the door, Aliya turns back to me. “I should mention, sir, that the Emira was with me the entire time we were in Thakirt. She did not leave my presence once.”
I don’t know if she’s telling me this out of a desire for self-protection, or to provide support to Amy, but it doesn’t matter. Whether Aliya left Amy’s side or not, somehow, she managed to meet with one of her father’s supporters for long enough to receive this note.
Blood pounds through my veins, a deafening tattoo drumming inside me.
I can’t say when I decided to trust Amy, but I do. Implicitly. I have believed her. Every look, every word. I have believed her innocence and goodness. Is it possible that I’ve been wrong about her all along?
12
Amy
I READ THE WORDS with a frown.
“What is this?”
His eyes are scrutinising me, his body so close that every indrawn breath fills my nostrils and senses with his masculine aroma, so thinking is – momentarily – difficult.
“You tell me. It was discovered in your possession.”
My brain jangles into place. This is serious. I frown, reading the words again, trying to capture a memory I know simply isn’t there. I lift my eyes to his and feel a wave of cold coming from my husband. I shiver. “I don’t know anything about it.” I hold the piece of paper out to him.
He takes it, but his expression doesn’t relent. “It was discovered in the pocket of a dress you were wearing in Thakirt. Does that jog your memory?”
Despite the tenor of his question, I laugh. “I’m sorry,” I lift a hand to his chest then quickly dropped it when sparks ignite my fingertips. “You’re making it sound like we’re in some kind of police drama. Is this an interrogation, Zahir? Do I need a lawyer?”
“I can’t answer that. Do you?”
He’s not joking. My breath flies from my body as though I’ve been winded. “Zahir, you can’t be serious?”
“At some point, in Thakirt, you met with someone. They gave you this note. I don’t know the extent of that meeting or conversation, but I need to understand. So tell me everything, at once.”
My lips part and the pain in my chest widens to a chasm. “You’re wrong.” Hurt explodes through me. “I didn’t do anything of the sort.”
“Then how did this note come to be in your possession?”
“I’ve never seen that before!” I point at the piece of paper he’s holding.
“It’s been badly damaged by the laundering process. When you last held it, it would have been a fresh piece of note paper.”