“It was good for both of us,” she admitted with a tone that didn’t invite further questioning.
“Yet you have no romantic interest in Ra’if.”
She nodded.
Faisal’s gaze narrowed. “You are in love with my other son, then.”
“No.” She swallowed, and flicked her eyes down to her lap. “And I beg your pardon, sir, if it’s not the done thing to say what I’m about to. But none of this is something I wish to discuss with you.”
“My sons are my future; the country’s future. It is for this reason I am asking you these personal questions,” he explained, his fascination with her increasing.
“Yes, but I have told you, I have nothing to do with either of them. You don’t need to be worried that you’ll end up with me in the palace permanently.”
“Yet you are here now.”
She tilted her chin defiantly, and the barrage of insults she wanted to level at this man about his heavy-handed son ran through her mind. But she didn’t give in to the temptation as she wanted to. Instead, she nodded slowly. “Not for much longer, I promise you, sir. I’ll be gone before you know it.”
“I see.” His smile was thoughtful. “Where are you from?”
“A little town outside of Perth.” He scanned her face and she laughed, despite herself. “I was nervous before. I didn’t want to correct you.”
He had that effect on many people; he was used to it. “You live in America now?”
“Not really.” She shrugged. “I guess you could say I’m of no fixed abode.” She smiled weakly. Yet another reason she was far from the kind of woman he would accept as his daughter in law. “I like to travel. I have wanderlust.”
A word he hadn’t heard in a very long time. He seemed to transform into a stone in his chair. Olivia saw it, and she moved quickly, kneeling before him. Fear that he was in the midst of another episode flooded her and she was on the brink of running for help when he put a hand out and touched hers. “I’m sorry.” He blinked. “I …” He lifted a hand and wiped it across his brow. He was pale.
“I’ll get Marook.” She stood and walked quickly, but Faisal called after her.
“No. Please. Come back.”
She turned on the spot, uncertain as to how to proceed.
“I was only surprised. I have not … heard that term in many, many years.”
“Which term?”
His voice was thin. “Wanderlust.”
“Oh.” She moved back to him slowly, a frown on her features.
“Yes,” he nodded slowly. “You are right to be perplexed. You know, I presume, that my wife is dead.”
She nodded, her expression one of empathy.
“She was a tourist in Dashan when I picked her out of a crowd. We had known each other for one week when I married her.” His smile was ethereal as he remembered the joy of that time. “She had wanderlust. That is what she always said. It brought her here to the palace, and to me. And then, she said, she was cured. She had wandered and wandered and lusted no more. She was home.”
Olivia felt a sting of emotion in her throat at the sweetness of his story. She coughed to clear it. “Your wife wasn’t from here?”
“No. She was English, by birth, though by the time I met her, she had lived everywhere. Africa, Australia, China, Russia. She loved to travel, much as you do.”
Olivia crossed one leg over the other. “Did you travel together?”
“We did.” His smile deepened. “I have never stopped grieving her loss, but I have also never felt that I did not make the most of the time we had together.”
“I’m glad for you, in that case.”
Faisal’s eyes hung on her face, in a manner that reminded her so strongly of Zamir that she had to look away.