‘I thought you were going to hit him.’
‘I wanted to.’ He looked down at her.
‘I’m glad you didn’t.’
‘I saw him this afternoon.’
‘The man who threw the coffee?’ Her brows lifted.
‘Yes. Ahmed brought him here, at my request.’
He could feel concern emanating from her in waves. ‘Why?’
‘To see if you were right.’
‘And was I?’
‘Yes.’
She expelled a breath. ‘People don’t generally lash out without cause.’
‘No.’ He held a vine aloft, waiting for Johara to walk ahead of him. ‘His twin brother died in the war. Right at the end.’
Johara’s eyes closed in sympathy. ‘So recently?’
‘Yes.’
‘And if peace had been agreed months earlier...’
‘He wouldn’t have died.’ Amir nodded crisply. ‘That’s why this matters so much. We have to make this work.’
‘You will.’ She stopped walking to look at him. ‘I know Mal is as committed to this as you are. How can peace efforts fail if you’re both determined to have this succeed?’
He didn’t need to answer. They both knew there were many things that could unravel the fragile accord. Their relationship was at the top of that list for him. If today had shown him anything it was how close to the surface his people’s hostility was.
But he’d looked into the eyes of a man who’d lost so much, who was grieving, and instead of bringing the wrath of his position down on him, he’d spent thirty minutes talking with him. Amir understood grief; he knew it first-hand. He’d listened to the other man and when it became apparent that there had been difficulties accessing his brother’s estate—a task he had undertaken for the widow and children—Amir had personally called the parliamentarian who oversaw such matters to ensure it moved smoothly going forward.
Johara had been, in every way, correct. Her wisdom was enviable, so too her grace under literal fire. She would have made an excellent queen.
The thought rocked him to the core. He stopped walking for a second, his eyes fixed straight ahead. They were nearing the edge of the forest, where it gave way to the end of the river. Here, there was a small lake, surrounded on all sides by rock. It was private, held by the palace, the last watercourse between here and the desert.
‘What is it, Amir?’
He shook his head, clearing the thought. Johara was intelligent and worldly, but she was certainly not a candidate for the position of his wife. The very idea sent panic along his spine. Anything approaching that would certainly lead to all-out war. Besides, she was the opposite of what he wanted in a wife. When he married, it would be to a woman who was...what? Why couldn’t he see that future now? He frowned. Because he was here with Johara—it would be the epitome of rudeness to be thinking of some hypothetical future wife when his lover was at his side.
‘I was thinking of Paris,’ he substituted, for lack of anything else to say.
‘Really?’ She frowned. ‘Why?’
He began to walk again, forcing a smile to his face. ‘I was wondering why your brother is so keen for you to marry him.’
‘They’ve been friends a long time,’ she said simply.
‘And?’
She laughed. ‘Yes, I suppose that’s not really an answer.’ She tilted her head to the side, considering the question. ‘He’s a nice guy.’
‘The only nice guy in Taquul?’