He angled his face to hers. ‘As I’m sure you would have wished to avoid it.’
‘On the contrary—’ she reached for her wine glass ‘—I relished the opportunity.’
His eyes held hers curiously.
‘I’ve heard a lot about Ishkana. All my life, stories have been told of your people, your ways, your ancient cities. To be here now is an exercise in satisfying my curiosity.’
He lifted his brows. ‘What are you curious about?’
‘Oh, everything.’ She sipped her wine. ‘The ruins of wasat, the wall that spans the sarieun sea, the theatres in the capital.’ She shook her head, a smile playing about her full red lips. ‘I know there won’t be a chance on this visit, but in time, with continued peace between our people, these landmarks could open up.’
He appeared to consider that for a moment. ‘Yes. In time.’
‘And our historical sites will be open to your people as well.’
He regarded her for several long moments, then sighed. ‘You are an optimist.’
She laughed softly, spontaneously. ‘Am I?’
Photographers were not permitted at royal banquets. It was a long-established protocol and even in this day of cell phones no cameras were used during meals. If anyone had taken a photo in that second though it would have captured two royals with their faces close together, their eyes latched, a look of something very like intimacy in their position. To a few of those present, the idea of the powerful, feared and adored Sheikh Amir Haddad sharing a meal with the Princess of Taquul was likely a bitter pill to swallow.
‘If I am,’ she murmured, after several seconds, ‘then you must be too.’
His expression was unchanged. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been accused of that.’
‘It’s not an accusation so much as an observation,’ she corrected.
‘Fine. That has never been...observed...of me before.’
‘Doesn’t it take a degree of optimism to proceed with a peace treaty? You must believe it will succeed or why bother with all this?’ She gestured around the room, as if rousing them both, reminding them of where they were and how many people were watching.
Both separated a little, straightening in their seats. ‘Acknowledging the necessity of something has no bearing on its likely success.’
‘I take it back. I think I was right the first time we met. You’re a cynic.’
‘That I have been called frequently.’
The air between them seemed to spark. Awareness flooded Johara’s body. Sitting close to him, speaking like this, she found the tension almost unbearable. She felt as though her skin was alive with an itch that she wanted to scratch and scratch and scratch.
The evening was long. After the dinner—which spanned six courses—there were speeches. The trade minister, the foreign minister, the culture minister. Johara sat beside Amir and listened, a polite smile on her face even when many small, barbed insults were laid at her country’s feet. She wanted to respond to each that it took two to tango—a war couldn’t be continued at only one country’s insistence. Wrongs had been perpetrated on both sides. But all the while, the knowledge of what the man beside her had lost at her uncle’s hand kept her silent.
She nodded politely, reminding herself again and again that her place in all this was not to inflame tensions so much as to soothe them. A necessary part of the peace process would involve humility—from both sides. The thought made her smile. Imagining Sheikh Amir Haddad humbling himself was not the easiest thing to do.
Finally, when all the speeches had been made, Johara stood. She ignored the small insults she’d heard and focussed on the bigger picture, and the fact Amir had invited her here.
‘I’m gratified to sit here with you as a representative of my brother, Sheikh Malik Qadir, and the people of Taquul. I hope this is the first of many such events enjoyed by our people in this new age of peace and u
nderstanding.’ She paused and smiled, her eyes skimming the room before coming to rest on Amir. He didn’t return her smile and the expression on his chiselled face made her pulse rush through her body. ‘I’m grateful for the hospitality of your kingdom, your people, and your Sheikh.’ She wrenched her eyes away from him with difficulty. ‘I look forward to getting to know the ways of your people better.’
When she sat down, it was to the sound of muted applause. Even that earned a wry smile from her, though she dipped her head forward to hide it. Only Amir caught the look, his eyes still trained on her face.
As was the custom, he led her from the room, the official engagement at an end. It would be ordinary for him to hand her off as soon as they’d left the palace hall, and yet he didn’t. He continued to walk with her. On either side, they were flanked by enormous flower arrangements—filled with natives of the region, blooms, foliage, pomegranate, citrus, all in their infancy so the fruit was miniature and fragrant. There were security personnel too, carefully watchful, discreet and respectful, but Amir felt their presence with a growing sense of frustration.
At the bottom of the stairs that led to the wing of the palace reserved for visiting dignitaries, he paused, wondering at the sense of hesitation that gripped him.
‘You must be tired.’ His voice was gruff. He made an effort to soften it.
‘Must I be?’ She lifted both brows, her lips pursed.