She nodded, her throat thick.
“I thought you might sleep all day.”
“No.” She shook her head. “The phone rang.”
His eyes narrowed. “I apologise. I told my assistant I was not to be disturbed.”
“It sounded important. You’re wanted in the State room of the East wing immediately.”
His expression tightened. “Damn it.”
“What?””
“Laith. It doesn’t matter. It’s something I have to deal with.”
But the name was familiar to Sophia. “The Jakari?”
He nodded dismissively. “Yes.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know any more than you do. I must go.” He moved past her but then, thought better of it, turning back to her. “I’ll come and see you before I leave.”
“You think you’ll have to go out into the desert again?”
His lips compressed. “Yes, sharafaha, I think I will have to go to him and sort this out in person.”
She didn’t say what she was thinking. There was no sense in having a battle with him until they both knew what he was dealing with. But as soon as he left, she gathered her torn dress to her body and moved back to her own room.
She showered and changed at speed, choosing loose linen pants and a flowy shirt. Her hair she scraped back into a low pony-tail before throwing some clothes and toiletries into a simple backpack and returning with speed to his suite.
It was empty.
She made a coffee, sipping it, trying to calm the kaleidoscope of butterflies that was battering her tummy.
It was almost an hour before he returned – or, three coffees and a sticky almond biscuit that tasted like sunshine and smiles.
He was distracted when he entered, his expression tense, and he was flanked by two ministerial staff and two servants, all dressed in the traditional white robes of Abu Faya. It was strange that, even when dressed in similar clothes, Malik looked so different.
So primeval and elemental.
Her stomach swooped as his eyes dropped to the bag at her feet then lifted to her face, clashing with hers again.
“Leave us.” He spoke to his staff without addressing them. It mattered not. They bowed low and exited through the wide doorway, pulling it closed behind them.
Before he could speak, she straightened, her eyes holding a challenge. “You’re going into the desert? To the Jakari?”
If it was possible, his expression tightened. Slowly, he nodded. “I’ll be away a week or so.”
“That’s fine. I’m coming with you.”
He didn’t visibly react. “Your place is here.”
“No,” she shook her head. “My place is at your side, remember? We’re married. I’m Sheikha. I’ve spent a long time training to be a Queen to your people. I don’t intend to have all that education go to waste.”
“Reading about ancient feuds and living amongst them are two entirely distinct prospects.”
“Undoubtedly. So?”