IT WAS AN hour into the tour of the masjid that Amir began to suspect Johara was a far better actor than he.
She was listening with all of her attention as the allamah showed them through the historic place of worship. It was Amir who was struggling to concentrate. He found his eyes straying to Johara when he too should have been listening. He found that he sought her out every few moments, trying to get her to look at him, wanting to see something in her eyes.
What?
Why did he need to look at her so badly?
To know that she didn’t regret it.
He compressed his lips and looked away, turning his attention to a piece of art he knew well—a seven-hundred-year-old tapestry weaved from bright and beautiful threads. He moved towards it, as if fascinated by the detail, when in fact he just needed some breathing space.
There was no denying their chemistry; that was clear and mutual. But the danger for them both was real and undeniable. Shouldn’t he be protecting her from that by fighting what he felt? For her sake, shouldn’t he be stronger?
He closed his eyes, knowing he couldn’t. They’d started on this path now and it wasn’t in his power to stop.
And yet he could see danger on both sides. He had to at least protect her from discovery. If they could keep this thing secret then when the time came for her to leave, she could continue with her life with no ramifications.
That was what he owed her.
And what about your people? a voice in his head demanded. What would they feel if they knew he’d been intimate with the Princess of Taquul?
He glanced towards her and something in his chest tightened. Yes, she was the Princess of Taquul, but she was so much more. To him, she was simply Johara, but to his people, was it possible she would continue to represent a threat? A reminder of past hatred and violence?
The peace was too important to risk.
Secrecy had to be ensured.
He vowed not to look at her again.
‘You’re cross with me?’ Johara murmured, flicking him an inquiring glance as they walked side by side through the enormous room that led to the large timber doors. It was just the four of them and the allamah and Ahmed had moved further ahead.
He jerked his attention to her. ‘No.’ He looked away again. ‘Why would you say that?’
‘You’re so serious. And trying so hard not to look at me.’
He kept his focus directly ahead. ‘To avoid suspicion.’
Her laugh was soft. ‘Where’s the fun in that?’
And before he could know what she intended, she moved a step closer, her hand brushing against his.
He glared at her. ‘Johara.’ His voice held a warning.
Her smile was pure teasing. ‘Relax. I’m not going to give the game away.’ She brushed his hand again. ‘But remember, it is a game. Try to have a little fun.’
Ahmed turned a moment later. Johara kept walking, no sign of their conversation on her face. ‘A crowd has gathered outside. Would you prefer a back entrance?’
Johara looked towards Amir. ‘The purpose of my being here is to be seen,’ she reminded him. ‘We should show a united front.’
He hesitated for some unknown reason, and then nodded. ‘Yes. Fine.’
Johara was effortless. He watched as she moved down the stairs, a smile on her face that disguised how she might have felt at being in the heartland of Ishkana so soon after the war had ended. If she held any anger towards his people, she hid it completely.
A woman was calling to her. He watched as she moved closer, but too close! Why didn’t she stay back a little? He made a motion to Ahmed, who caught it and signalled to a security guard to intervene, to put some more space between the Princess and the crowd.
But it was too late.
A projectile left the hand of a man near the front of the group. Amir stood frozen to the spot as whatever it was sailed through the air, heading straight for Johara. He swore, began to run, but there wasn’t time.