“Well, funny you should say that.”
Xander didn’t think it funny. He remained silent as he watched his brother carefully.
“As it happens, I spoke to Amir and Zavian the other day and we’re all agreed. The best way to progress the infrastructure and communications project between Sharq Havilah and Tawazun is to have the two rulers discuss it—person to person.” Roshan gestured helplessly. “That way, there will be less going back and forth, and it can progress more quickly.” He gripped the handle, released his grip and then gripped it again. He looked positively nervous, which made Xander nervous. Roshan never looked nervous. “There will just be the two of you. It’ll be easier that way.”
Xander threw the nearest file at Roshan but it landed with a thud against a closed door. And all he could here was laughter from his brother as he walked away. “Definitely easier!” Roshan shouted through the closed door.
“For you maybe,” roared Xander, throwing himself into a chair and looking at the paperwork which now lay strewn across the room. “For you,” he added. “But not for me.”
Elaheh stoodin the entrance to the ancient desert hunting lodge—the site of all the meetings of the kings and queens of Havilah—and felt a sinking in her stomach as she folded up the strange note and pushed it into her pocket and out of her mind.
It wasn’t the first such note, but she’d make sure it was the last. Just not now. This morning she had greater concerns than a letter threatening her safety. She glanced at her faithful vizier, Abzari, who stood to one side, his silent, reassuring presence appreciated in this strange world of politics and posturing in which she’d found herself. And then she looked straight ahead, summoning all her reserves of strength to meet her visitor. For it wasn’t the usual meeting of all the kings and queens, today she’d be meeting only one. And he was late.
She filled her lungs with the hot, dry air of the vast desert which surrounded them. To the others, dwellers in cities, it must seem foreign, she thought. But, to her, born and bred in the nomadic tent cities of the Bedouin, it was home. It was her world and one she understood. That was why she wanted to meet here, rather than the city state of Sharq Havilah—with all its modern towers and busy streets—or her own palace in Tawazun. Here, she had only one thing to contend with, one person to control: King Xander of Sharq Havilah. He was proving unresisting to her demands. But she’d make sure he did as she wanted. In the end.
The hum of the approaching helicopter was like an annoying insect at first, gradually growing louder until the throbbing of its blades filled the air, overtaking the silence with its unwelcome noise. Inwardly, Elaheh flinched; outwardly her eyes narrowed a little. How was it that even the approach of the man was enough to disturb her equilibrium?
She adjusted her scarf around her head as the helicopter hovered above them and descended into the vast courtyard, sand and dust billowing all around them. She didn’t retreat. It wasn’t in her nature.
Xander stepped out of the helicopter with his head down, and strode over to the entrance of the desert palace, his advisors following him. After shooting a narrowed glance at her, his gaze rose and took in the hunting lodge—once a palace fortress—with its ancient mysterious engravings around the entrance and uncompromising red-stone facade designed to repel invaders. Elaheh just wished it was strong enough to repel Xander.
It wasn’t until he came close to her that he met her gaze, which hadn’t wavered from him. Most of the time all she had to do to command people was look at them. Her father had noted that, even as a small child, she had a fierce gaze from which people shrank. It had been her curse, as it had repelled people she hadn’t wished to repel, but it had also proved, in the long run, to be her savior and protector.
“Xander,” she said shortly as he stood before her. She was annoyed to have to look up so far. He was taller than the other kings. And she had to steel herself, grit her teeth to face those eyes. She hated the flutter she felt when she looked into those narrowed, stern, controlling black eyes.
“Elaheh,” he replied with equal brevity.
She waited for the traditional words of greeting. But, as there were none, she turned with a sweep of her gowns and entered the hall.
Even though she couldn’t see him, she sensed his eyes on her. It was like a tickling feeling traveling along her spine. She could feel the fine hairs on the back of her neck prickle and she shivered slightly.
She stopped in the hallway and turned to him.
“Cold?” he asked, looking around. “I guess it is cool in here if you’re not accustomed to air conditioning. And I don’t believe you use it in your palace, do you?”
Anger sparked inside. One, he’d noticed her shiver. She didn’t want him looking at her intently enough to notice her shiver. And two, he couldn’t help but be negative about her ancient palace and traditional way of life.
“It’s not necessary. Iguess,” she said, emphasizing the slang word whichshenever used, but which Xander often did. “If you spend most of your life away from your home, you don’t feel you belong here. And, if that is how you feel, perhaps you should leave.” She flicked her hand dismissively. “Perhaps you should return to the UK or US or wherever you’re from, and your air-conditioned offices and superficial lifestyle.”
He bowed his head to hers, his eyes fierce, but she refused to flinch. “Oh, Elaheh,” he said, and his warm breath swept over her cheeks and neck, causing yet another round of prickles. “I belong. Just as you do. And I’m afraid I’m not going anywhere. I’m King of Sharq Havilah and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“More’s the pity,” she said between gritted teeth.
He withdrew and those dark eyes held a spark of humor. She hated that even more. “You don’t mean it. After all, who would you spar with then?”
The anger became something like fury. She could feel it bubble up but, before she could express herself, he’d turned on his heel, hands in pockets in his usual careless, relaxed manner, and walked toward the meeting room.
There was nothing she could do except follow. She hated following anyone, let alone a man who could make her so angry that she found the vibrations of encounters with him continued to reverberate long after they’d gone their separate ways.
They took their places around the medieval table—its heavily polished patina, together with the over-sized richly-colored rug which covered the stone-flagged floor, creating a warmth to the cavernous hall. In recent times the table had had to seat six kings and queens, rather than the original three Havilahi kings. But, today, there were just the two of them.
Elaheh waved away her maid. She wanted to get down to work. She didn’t want this meeting to go on a moment longer than it had to.
Xander raised an eyebrow as he accepted a cup of coffee—an Italian espresso, Elaheh noted disapprovingly. “You’re not having a coffee?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I’d rather we get down to business. The sooner we begin, the sooner we can go our separate ways.”
He sat back in his chair and sipped his coffee, his eyes never leaving her. Despite herself, she could feel a heat rising in her. She never blushed. Somehow she willed it away.