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Why did Zavian keep the old man around? He was a thorn in his side. But as he’d practically raised him, he couldn’t imagine living without him, no matter how irritating, or dismissive he was of Zavian’s word. Where others would quake at Zavian’s merest glance, Naseer would answer him back. Trouble was, it was usually a pertinent answer—an answer, or a question, that no one else dared give and that Zavian knew, deep down, he needed to hear.

“You’re surprised I like culture, Naseer?”

The old man raised his eyebrow. “The nearest you’ve ever come to culture was hunting in the desert with your grandfather’s spears, or the harness on your Arab stallions when you raced.”

“Ah, a blend of tradition and sport. Yes, you’re probably right. But it’s never too late to start, is it? Never too late to show the world that my country is more than simply a producer of oil and a strategically placed ancient port. Maybe it is time to attract more tourists here. Tourists who, in turn, will bring investment from foreign companies. Under our control, of course.”

“Of course.” There was a moment of silence while they both remembered when thathadn’tbeen the case. It had taken a great deal of work to redress the wrongs his great-grandfather had innocently created.

“Besides, it’s the PR and marketing that you’ve always told me I should be more interested in, right?”

Naseer nodded thoughtfully. “It’s certainly timely. With the bi-millennial celebration coming up as well as your, er, personal plans, a renewed focus on public relations can do nothing but good for you and Gharb Havilah.” He said the name of his country softly, with a reverence that betrayed his love for it. However he treated his king and subjects, Zavian knew his vizier would do whatever he had to do for his country. Naseer nodded to the city. “Two thousand years, Zavian. Twothousandyears.”

Zavian looked at the old man, whose expression revealed the emotion that had made him call Zavian by his first name, something he rarely did. “A milestone worth celebrating indeed.”

“A personal one, as well as state one. Marriage negotiations are about to commence with the King of Tawazun between you and the eldest daughter.”

Zavian grunted, and Naseer frowned.

“You agreed.”

“I did. Now that King Amir has married, the task has fallen to me.”

“I’m sure it won’t be an unpleasant one. The princess is reputed to be very beautiful.”

Gabrielle’s image refused to be replaced by that of the Tawazun princess. He had reasons to delay his decision, but he had only one which prevented him—Gabrielle.

He was waiting for the day when his heart wouldn’t ache for her, when he wouldn’t feel her betrayal as sharply as a stab in the back. And that day was drawing closer. When he’d discovered the mystery behind the identity of the donor of the fabulous centerpiece to the collection, and how much the donor had paid for it, he knew Gabrielle was behind it. Not only because she was one of the few who’d have been able to confirm its provenance, but also because of the price.

A million dollars had been given to Gabrielle to stay away from him and his country by his father. She’d taken it and left Gharb Havilah. And someone had paid the exact same sum for a piece of Gharb Havilah’s culture. If itwasher, it proved she didn’t want the money in the first place. Then why did she take it? He had his suspicions but was looking forward to finding out the answer from her.

“I’ve arranged a meeting with the King of Tawazun.”

Zavian nodded. “When?”

“Two weeks.”

“Good. That will give me time.”

“Time?” His vizier narrowed his gaze. Zavian knew that look of old. Sometimes he thought Naseer knew him better than he knew himself. “Time for what? That girl?”

Zavian ground his teeth. He’d always hated his vizier’s antipathy to Gabrielle. “You mean Dr. Taylor?”

“Of course I mean her. I was against you bringing her here, and I was right. She’s unsettling you. I can’t believe you want her here after what she did.”

“It was just money.”

“Just a million dollars, which was paid to her to leave you. She needed no persuading.”

Zavian looked at his vizier suddenly. “And how would you know that?”

The vizier’s glance slid away. “I heard.”

Not for the first time Zavian wondered what part his vizier had played in Gabrielle’s disappearance.

“Anyway, it’s irrelevant. You know now that she’s the sort of woman who can be bribed, she’s not loyal, she’s not for you, and she’s not for our country.”

Zavian no longer believed anything of the sort, but decided to play things close to his chest. The three countries which comprised the ancient land of Havilah needed to unite with Tawazun through blood ties, and his own country needed a queen in whom his people could believe. With a history of bitter battles over the centuries for control of the strategic port, his country had now entered a period of peace, and he would do all he could to ensure that continued. And that meant building up a common identity, and a people loyal to the Crown.


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