The True King of Dahaar - Page 35

“Not anymore, Azeez. How fortunate that I won’t let an old friend return empty-handed.” A dark smile crept into Zayed’s eyes, any hint of the kindhearted man Azeez had known gone long ago. “Tell your Crown Prince or whoever you serve that Zuran is done being Dahaar’s puppet.

“You’re speaking to the new high sheikh of Zuran.”

Renewed shock pulsed through Azeez. “Your uncle…”

“Has been killed by my men.” A chill climbed up Azeez’s spine. It was like looking at a reflection of what he had been a few months ago. And he didn’t like it.

“Weren’t you the one who always talked about our debt to our land, Azeez? Personal loss might have dimmed your sense of duty, whereas I have found mine only after it.”

Without waiting for Azeez’s response, Zayed walked out of the tent.

After waiting for a few minutes, Azeez walked out, too. Whatever the politics between Dahaar and Zuran, Zayed would never betray him.

But having seen his friend, having heard the threat in his words, Azeez was filled with renewed purpose.

There had been a coup in Zuran, which meant every small tidbit of information he could gather would be precious to Ayaan.

The chain of his guilt relenting, Azeez walked back to where his contact was waiting. He gave instructions to the man. He would need another couple of days in the desert.

He shivered as the chilly wind howled through him. The horizon stretched ahead of him in endless golden sand dunes.

He had loved the unforgiving heat, the harsh, stark landscape of the desert for as long as he could remember.

Even after he had recovered and realized he couldn’t go back to Dahaar, the desert had soothed him, provided an escape from the constant guilt and shame inside him, the harsh life of traveling with the Mijab forcing him to focus on mere survival.

His mistakes, his guilt, his yearning to be close to his family, they had all been minimized. He had been minimized by the brutality of desert life. That’s why he had clung to it for so long, that’s how he had gone on living.

Could he accept never coming back here again? Could he wrench away a part of him and leave it in Dahaar when it was time to leave?

For the first time since Ayaan had captured him and dragged him to the palace against his will, the answer to his own questions wasn’t absolute.

Neither could he dismiss the woman who had, just by her sheer dogged determination, breathed new will into his life.

* * *

Walking around the pool that was built in the shape of a drop of water pulled along in every direction, a gleaming blue between a maze of tall trees and walkways, Nikhat smiled, remembering every last word her sisters and she had said to each other over the past three days.

As the sun had set, small lights along the perimeter of the pool had come on, making the entire courtyard look like a jeweled necklace. The view of it from the terrace was magnificent, as if a slice of paradise had been brought to life in the middle of the desert. The contrast against the starkness of the desert dunes was lush, wondrous.

They had talked and talked until they had all been exhausted. They had laughed, cried, spent both nights, well into dawn, sitting by the pool, talking about their mother, father and so many things about the future, both near and afar.

Like Naima’s upcoming wedding that Nikhat was going to miss, to Noozat’s aspirations to be a midwife.

And Noor’s relentless questions about the desert hideaway they had been brought to under a cloud of silence, and her awe that the royal family had done such a personal favor for Nikhat.

She had cried when it had been time to go this morning, as Noozat had railed against the situation that kept Nikhat away, while Naima had watched it all silently.

Their innocence about the world, the contentment she had seen in their eyes for their lives, fueled her own resentment in a way she had never expected, filling her with a restless energy.

She had never been like that, innocent or carefree or just plain happy.

She had always worried about her mother’s health, worried about her sisters, worried about what trouble Amira would get into, worried about whether she would be allowed to pursue her dream and for how long. Despite her growing attachment to Azeez and the shock of his love for her, through it all, she had worried what the future would hold for her.

But in the end, her worrying, her cautious nature, had never helped her.

Until Richard had pursued her relentlessly for three years, she had let herself consider happiness again. She had revealed her condition, believed him when he said that he would be happy only with her. And yet, for all her worrying, his rejection had come, because suddenly he had realized he did want children, and she had been heartbroken.

Wasn’t that what she had been doing since she had returned, too?

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