Mina nodded, excusing herself from the long dining room and letting out a sigh only after shutting the door behind her.
Moustafa and d’Tierrza stood to attention on either side of the door. Sensing them, Mina took a breath and straightened her shoulders. She never would have guessed it could happen, but she was actually coming to find comfort in the constancy of their presence.
With a half-smile, she said, “Well, ladies, it looks like we’re going to the summer palace.”
D’Tierrza started, before quickly catching Moustafa’s eye.
Mina was immediately uneasy. “What?”
Moustafa opened her mouth to say something, only to close it again. On her second try, she got out, “Guards are not allowed at the summer palace.”
Mina’s eyebrows came together. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
D’Tierrza took over. “The summer palace is a retreat for the royal family—a place for them to go to feel normal. The staff there live in residence year-round, are heavily vetted, and are all military trained. With them around, members of the royal family can be free to go about their day safely, without guards.”
“But that means it will be just the two of us...”
Moustafa winced at Mina’s forlorn tone.
D’Tierrza let out a bark of laughter and began to lead them back towards the Queen’s Wing. “You’ll love Cantorini. Just make sure to have the staff pack some books...” D’Tierrza narrowed her eyes at her Queen “...and a swimsuit.”
Nine hours later a chauffeur opened the back door of a sleek black SUV and Mina got in, her bags long-ago stowed and packed by someone else, filled with mysterious clothing items selected by her staff. She imagined there was a swimsuit somewhere in there...
The thought brought a smile to her face—which was more than could be said for the King, who had followed her into the car before the chauffeur shut the door behind him.
Though he’d said no more than a few words to her in greeting, his presence had dominated her senses from the moment they’d met outside the palace at one of the many private entrances.
Like her, he wore the same clothes he had at breakfast. Unlike her, he remained as flawlessly put together as he had been that morning.
As spacious as the vehicle they were enclosed in was, his fragrance still enveloped her, throwing her back to the sensation of being wrapped up in him, his lips pressed against hers.
Mina’s breath caught as she tamped down the memory. That was most certainly not the thing to think about while traveling alone and in close quarters with the King.
“Was the rest of your day productive?” she asked, hoping shop talk would do the job of breaking the tension between them.
Swinging his gaze lazily to capture hers, he let his eyes pin her against the seat. Her breath caught. His nostrils flared slightly and she felt herself lean forward, drawn toward him despite the danger obvious in his regard.
A spark lit in his stare at her movement, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly, and she realized he knew the effect he had on her. Something wild and indignant in her demanded she break free of the hold, but he was too strong.
His words were drawn out, slow and languid in a way she’d never heard him speak before, when he asked, “Do you really care how my day went?”
And although her body shivered at all the unspoken things in his voice that showed what he thought she really cared about, Mina found herself surprised by the truth in her words when she replied, a tad breathlessly, “Yes.”
Something in her reply took him aback, though she didn’t know if it was the honesty that had surprised her, or the unspoken invitation to talk about statecraft itself.
He shrugged and sat back, snapping the tautness between them as he traded a bit of languid grace for upright alertness. Mina found herself regretting the loss.
“I secured two new international trade agreements, resisted a foreign power’s overreach into Cyranese affairs, and set the stage for establishing an official diplomatic relationship with the Kingdom of Montenegro.”
Mina’s breath caught in her throat. The fact that he had answered—and not facetiously—felt somehow more important than it probably was. But it was what he’d said, the casual mention of allegiances and world politics, which shook her to the core. He was the King. His days were comprised of the stuff of nations.
And what wereherdays comprised of? Royal summonses and waiting for others to coordinate her luggage. Falling softly back against the seat, she mourned the loss of her old identity once more.
Queen Amina’s days were idled away. Dr. Mina Aldaba’s days had been spent in research and study, her mind applied to the most pressing concerns of modern science.
But she had asked the King a question, and she was being rude in dwelling on herself. “That sounds like a very productive day,” she said.
He smirked at her. “Where did I lose you? Trade agreements?”