“You said once you’re a good horsewoman?”
She nodded. “Of course. I was raised on a horse in the desert.”
“Then I suggest you get yourself to the stables, saddle up a horse and ride out toward the mountains, toward me.”
“It is too far.”
“I’ll meet you on your way there.”
“There is no village, no oasis, nothing…”
“I will be there.”
She opened her mouth to speak but no word came out. But he knew what she was thinking for once, her thoughts were clear in her eyes.
“I promise,” he continued. “The important thing is for you to get out of there. You’re trapped, a sitting target. Will you come?”
She gave one brief, sharp nod. “I have no choice. I’ll change, gather some supplies and water and slip out to the stables and take my horse.”
“Can you do it without being seen?”
“I think so. I have no choice but to try.”
“Keep on the ancient Bedouin trail toward the mountains and I’ll find you in a few hours.”
“You’d better be there.” It was the last thing she said and he almost chuckled at the return of her assertive self. And for the first time since his instinctive offer to rescue her, he wondered what he was letting himself in for.
Chapter 4
Elaheh landed silently in the flower bed. She wiped her hands down her plain black abaya beneath which she wore jeans and a t-shirt—a throwback to when she’d been a teenager. They fitted her still. She stayed only long enough to feel the atmosphere of the garden, to sense if there was anyone else there. It was a still night and her ears strained to pick up the slightest sound which was out of place. There was none. The moon had yet to rise to shed its light inside the courtyard. But it would soon, and then the place would be lit up like daylight. She had to leave before that happened.
Keeping to the path closest to the wall, protected by the trees which edged the garden, she walked quickly to the exit. She was like a shadow merging and drifting into other, darker shadows, until she reached the gate which would take her into yet another garden. The sequence of gardens eventually led to a side door where she could gain access to the stables. The place was deadly quiet. There were no CCTV cameras. Her father had refused to have any such modern intrusion into the palace, and she’d had no reason to believe she needed them. Until now. But there should have been guards. There had always been guards. But not tonight, it would seem. Whoever had placed her note in her room was more powerful than she’d imagined, if he’d had the authority to stand down her guards. Whoever he was, he was powerful, and he wanted her vulnerable. She quickened her pace.
With thudding heart and watchful eyes, she reached the stables. The smell of the place quieted her and she quickly placed a bridle on her horse, nuzzling him and stroking his nose to placate his grumpiness at being awoken. With the reins bunched in one hand she carefully opened the door to the rear exit of the palace. She closed it again and jumped onto her horse, keeping him walking in the shadows before they were sufficient distance to trot away. The trot soon turned into a canter, and then into a full-on gallop as they entered the trail which would take her on a direct route toward the desert castle.
She soon slipped into the rhythm of the rolling gait of her horse and, as the moon rose over the desert, her heart rose with it, despite the danger she was in. This place was her life; it was the desert where she felt most at home, not the palace, not as queen, but as a woman of the land—herland. The hijab slipped off her head and her hair flew behind her as she continued on the road to Xander. She dared not imagine himnotbeing there because she had no back-up plan.
It wasn’t until she’d been riding for an hour and a half that she saw the tell-tale sign of sand rising into the moonlight. At first she was worried it heralded a khamseen wind which would bring fifty days of hot and dusty conditions. But the column of air was contained, narrow, and moving in her direction. It was Xander, she was sure of it. But then doubt filled her mind. What if someone had tracked her down and, instead of following her, had called on someone to head her off?
She galloped behind a clump of thorny trees and bushes and decided to wait to see who it was before making herself known. The quickening breeze hid the hoofmarks of her horse and she slid off him and brought him behind one of the trees from where she would have a good view of the approaching car.
It had no headlights which told her one important thing—it didn’t want attention drawn to it. It wasn’t until it drew closer and the moon rose higher that she realized it wasn’t an ordinary car, but a Land Rover pulling a horse box behind it. She exhaled heavily in relief and slumped against the tree. It must be Xander. Who else would be traveling over the desert with a horsebox? Her people would have followed her by horse and brought her back. But not Xander. She stepped out and flashed her torchlight at him.
He altered his course slightly and pulled up beside her. His window lowered.
“Your Majesty!” he called out, above the sound of the vehicle’s engine and her horse’s whinny. “I believe you’d like a lift?”
She laughed with relief. “Trust you, Xander,” she said, approaching his window. She thought she’d never been so happy to see someone in her whole life.
“I hope you do, Ela,” he said, jumping out the vehicle.
“You know what I mean. I thought you’drideout to meet me.”
“Me, ride a horse?” he said, unlocking the horse box. “No way. Besides, it’s quicker this way. Um, you might like to…” He gestured to her horse, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. Suddenly she understood.
“Don’t tell me you don’t like horses?”
“I don’t like horses.”