Laith’s demeanour didn’t shift. “Are you ordering me to allow this?”
Malik sat back in the chair, casting his eyes about the table. On one side, sat members of his own government and security delegation, liaisons to the Bedouin communities that peppered these deserts. On the other sat members of Laith’s tribe, as well as delegates from other communities, interested in the outcome of these speeches.
“I am reluctant to interfere in your governance.” He drank his wine. “I have deep respect for you, your people and your way of life.” He turned his head, staring through the flap of the tent, towards the wild, unfettered desert. “There have been many times in my life when I wished to live amongst you.”
Laith’s voice was crackled by age when he spoke. “And we have always welcomed you.”
Malik’s eyes swept shut as he remembered that detail – the times when he ran from the palace to this community, living beneath the stars, their simple life appealing to something ancient and strong within his soul. The weeks after Addan’s death had required him to be at the palace, but as soon as life had appeared to return to normal, he’d come to Laith, to the desert, to grieve without the confines of staff, without the expectation that he would know just what to say and how to act to everyone, at all times.
“I chose to come to you,” he said slowly. “I have always chosen to spend time here, with you, like this, when I could. Despite all that is at my fingertips – the immense wealth of my family, the power of my position, the love of my brother, I have come to the desert tribes and chosen to partake in this way of life.” He turned his head back to Laith. “We are not men of the city, Laith.”
He felt the men on both sides shift, some nodding, some murmuring under their breath. He spoke quietly, but with the effortless command and strength that were very much a part and parcel of this man’s being. “We are not a people born to live in comfort, with technology making our lives easy and convenient. Give me a modern city and I feel a prisoner,” he muttered. “This,” he swept his hand, encompassing the canvas tent and the rugs at their feet, “is my idea of a home. The stars are the only lights I want at night, a horse the transport I prefer, the sound of ancient songs and spoken histories what I want to dance to and listen to as I fall asleep. This is a part of who we are. Men, women and children of Abu Faya carry the sands of the desert in their skin, in their cells; these are our ways.”
More noise, some clapping of hands and nodding.
“You must trust that this woman, and others like her, will feel a pull back to this way of life. You must believe there is strength and passion in us, that draws us to these deserts.”
Laith’s expression was taut.
“And still,” Malik continued, “you must let her go.”
There was silence around the table now, but it was a silence of understanding, of acceptance. All but Laith saw that Malik was right, and even Laith was softening. “I will think on it,” he said finally, lifting his cup and holding it towards Malik in a silent gesture of respect. “And I thank you, Sheikh, for coming to me at this time. Your counsel is, as ever, appreciated.”
Malik stayed only so long as he felt absolutely necessary and then climbed onto his horse, his gaze set in the distance – beyond which was his palace, and his bride.
He would ride through the night.
His security detail wouldn’t like it, but Malik had little care for that.
Sophia smiled as she watched the children, their frivolity and laughter transcending geography and culture. These children, playing in the courtyard of their school, reminded her so completely of herself and Bella as children. They ran from one side of the space to the other, flicking water from the fountain and laughing when the droplets landed on their uniforms. It was a searingly hot day, quite unbearable. She wished, for a moment, she could forget the fact she was on an official visit, to launch the new technology lab of this government-run school, to forget the fact there were photographers lined up from international newspapers, ready to capture her every move. She wished she could forget for a moment that she was Sheikha Sophia and join in the water fight, splashing herself, cooling herself down.
Despite the heat of the day, though, it wasn’t that alone which had caused Sophia to feel over-hot.
Hers was a heat that came from inside, a heat generated in the blood that was pounding through her body, making her heart race and her pulse gush. It was a he
at that Malik had set alight, that was ravaging her completely.
She kept her smile in place, nodding as the headmistress continued to explain the operations of the school.
The children were adorable.
Out of nowhere, the image came to her of another little person, a baby born to her and Malik, and for a second, her smile almost dropped. Because, in her mind’s eye, she could see that child so clearly! The smile, the dimples, the dark hair like his, the inquiring eyes, the easy smile.
Her heart skidded in her chest.
Was it possible that little baby was already growing inside her?
Her fingertips tingled and she fought an impulse to run a hand over her flat stomach.
She was familiar enough with the global media’s intense interest in her life to know that such a gesture would headline international papers and websites if she were to succumb to it.
And so she stood still, nodding and smiling, picture-perfect and dying with impatience.
She knew only that Malik had been called away urgently. The minute they’d descended from the tower, real life had absorbed them back into it. For a day, they’d escaped, they’d become intimately acquainted with one another’s bodies, and then one of his ministers had approached him, speaking quietly and in a dialect she didn’t recognize. Malik’s expression had darkened, his skin paled, and then he’d turned to face her.
He hadn’t smiled. “Urgent business requires my attention.”
“Oh.” A stupid rejoinder, but she hadn’t known what to say; she hadn’t been prepared for the intense rejection she’d feel at the very idea that he was to go away again. How could her body have become dependent on his in such a short space of time? “Why? Where?”