She shook her head. ‘I refuse to believe that. Let me stay here with you, standing by your side showing that we are committed to a peaceful outcome.’
The image she created was vibrant but impossible. Zeb’s response had shown him that. Detain her. A fierce reaction resonated along his spine. ‘Your place is in Taquul with your people.’
Her eyes sparked with anger. ‘Can’t you see that’s what’s wrong with all this? Your people. My people. They’re all damned people, living side by side. Isn’t this peace about breaking down barriers, Amir? Wasn’t that the purpose of my being here?’
His heart had kicked up a notch. He dragged trousers over his boxers without looking away from her. ‘This changes things.’
‘It doesn’t have to.’ She moved towards him with urgency. ‘You said, from the outset, there would be difficulties. This is one of them. Are you truly intending to fall at the first hurdle?’
‘No.’ He reached for a shirt. ‘But having you here complicates matters. You have to leave.’
‘Why? For whom does it complicate anything?’
‘You represent something my people have been taught to hate, and also fear.’
‘Me?’ She dug her fingers into the space between her breasts; his gut twisted at her look of obvious disbelief. ‘I’m just one woman, a woman who’s here with an open heart and mind, wanting to improve relations. Your people will see that—just don’t push me away. Let me stay. Show your citizens that you and I are both invested in the peace process, that we believe it will succeed...’
‘And what if Malik and I cannot agree on this? What if war is inevitable? You think my military will not expect me to keep you as a prisoner?’
She gasped. ‘You would never do that.’
‘No.’ He dragged a hand through his hair, frowning. ‘Of course I wouldn’t, and that’s the problem. You compromise me. This, what we’ve been doing, has made me forget.’ He softened his tone, moving closer. ‘But I can’t forget.’ He lifted a hand to her cheek, touching her for what he knew would be the last time. ‘We created a perfect void, you and I. A magical space removed from anything and anyone else. But nothing about this works when the world intrudes. The reality of who we are and what our countries require of us is there, banging at the door. Wake up and hear it, Johara. This has to end and you need to leave.’
He felt her shiver, her body trembling against his hand. ‘You’re wrong.’
He took a step back. ‘This was wrong. I thought we could separate what we were doing from the circumstances of who we are, but I never will. We stand on the brink of war once more. Your people. My people. You, and me. You are a Qadir.’
She shook her head, tears filling her eyes, so he felt pain throb low in his gut. He angled his face away for a moment, unable to see her cry.
‘Is that all I am to you?’
He closed his heart against her hurt. ‘No. But it’s the part of you I have to focus on.’
Silence hung between them, heavy and accusatory. He fixed her with a determined gaze.
‘I promise that I will protect you with my dying breath but even that isn’t enough to guarantee your safety. I have forbidden my military commander from using you as a pawn in this, but I cannot control this to my satisfaction. You are at risk every minute you remain here, Jo.’ The diminutive of her name slipped out in his need to convince her.
‘I’m not afraid,’ she insisted, her eyes showing fierceness.
‘You should be.’ He blinked and saw his parents’ bodies. His blood turned to ice. ‘I will not have your death on my conscience.’
‘Then let me absolve you of that. I’m choosing to stay—this isn’t your responsibility.’
But she would always be his responsibility. It was inevitable. He didn’t want the burden of protecting her; he couldn’t lose her because of his selfish desire to have her at his side.
Johara brushed a hand through her dark hair, drawing his attention to her face. ‘I won’t leave; not now. My visit is scheduled to end tomorrow. Let me stay until then, keep to my schedule. Please, Amir. We cannot capitulate to what’s likely to be a few rogues. Why can’t you see that? It’s exactly what they want! Surely this attack was designed in the hope of disturbing the peace—’
He held a hand in the air to silence her, his blood slamming through his body. ‘And what better way to disturb the peace than to harm you? You think that even if you stayed I would ever allow you to keep to your schedule? To leave the palace when the mood is like this? No, Johara.’ He refused to soften even when faced with her obvious hurt. ‘The night we met, I thought you idealistic. But you are also naïve. You have been sheltered, to some extent, from the ravages of this war. You do not understand the lengths men will go to—’
‘How dare you?’ She glared at him down the length of her nose. ‘How dare you speak to me as though I am—’ she stopped abruptly, her face filled with torment ‘—stupid?’ she finished on a sob, pressing her palms to her eyes.
He stood perfectly still, because if he moved, even a little bit, he knew he would crumble altogether. He wanted to cross to her and pull her to him, to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight, to kiss her until this all faded away into nothingness. To tell her that whoever had told her she was stupid because of her dyslexia was mad, because she was the smartest, most courageous person he’d ever known. But he would not weaken. She needed him to be strong; his country needed him to be strong.
Her eyes narrowed, her lower lip trembling, but when she spoke it was in a tone that was pure steel. ‘You think you’re the only one who’s watched his country suffer at the hands of the enemy? I know what we’ve done to each other! I’ve lived it, too! That’s why we need to stop it. Work together—’
‘As your brother and I will do,’ he said, determined to turn her away. ‘If this was a rogue attack from the mountain people then we will work together to—reason with them and understand them, just as you urged me to understand the man who threw coffee at you. They have played their part in this war and perhaps they have motives we don’t comprehend. You’ve made me see that, Jo. You’ve changed how I view conflict, people, war. You’ve changed me.’ The admission cost him. It emerged thick and throaty, dark with his emotions.
He paused, bracing himself for what he needed her to know. ‘You cannot remain. You are a l