The Sheik and the Runaway Princess

by Mallery, Susan

  “Not everyone wants to be a thief.”

  Color stained her cheeks. She looked even more attractive than usual when she was furious with him. Her chest rose and fell with each angry breath. He watched the movement of her breasts under her dress. While he had enjoyed seeing her in her silly harem costume, he preferred her in the conservative dresses he had provided. In some ways, imagining how she looked underneath was more interesting than simply being able to see it.

  Today she wore her long red hair pulled back into a thick braid. A few curls brushed against her cheeks. Wide brown eyes glared at him. She had the most unusual coloring, he thought. The deep red hair, brown eyes and skin the color of honey. Not a single freckle marred her beauty. She would produce attractive children.

  “Are you even listening to me?” she demanded.

  “With bated breath,” he assured her. “My heart beats only to serve you.”

  She turned to the window and stared out at the approaching twilight. “I hate it when you’re sarcastic. My point is illegally taking things isn’t a tradition to be proud of. It’s a disgrace.”

  “It has been our way for a thousand years. In the past generation or so the thieving has stopped, but the legacy is still there. In time we can discuss returning some items, but not yet.” He took a sip of his drink. “Since you have so much interest in the treasure, perhaps you would like to begin cataloging it.”

  She glanced at him over his shoulder. “No one’s done that? You don’t even know what you have?”

  He shrugged. “I know we have enough. But no. There’s no detailed inventory. Also, I believe some of the items might require special treatment to prevent them from being destroyed as they age.”

  “You’re right. There’s a tapestry in one of the halls that is turning to dust. It needs to be protected.” She turned to face him. “But you’re talking about thousands of items. Jewels and paintings. It would take years.”

  “Perhaps your father will be slow to pay for you.”

  He’d expected some kind of teasing response, but instead Sabrina sighed, then nodded slowly.

  “I don’t doubt that he’ll be happy to have me out of his way,” she said. “I’ll begin in the morning.”

  Kardal frowned. “I hadn’t meant to remind you of something unpleasant.”

  “My lack of relationship with my father is hardly your fault.” She crossed to the tea cart and poured herself a soft drink. “At least working with the treasure will give me something to do. What about the royal watchdog? Is he going to trust me?”

  “I will speak with Rafe.”

  “I saw the mark.”

  Kardal was not surprised. “Don’t worry. He will not speak for me in matters of slavery.”

  She smiled slightly, then grew serious. “He nearly died for you.”

  “And I rewarded his loyalty.”

  “So now he’s a sheik.”

  “You know the ways of the city. Rafe has a fortune of his own and my trust.”

  She glanced at him. “He doesn’t strike me as the type of man who would be content watching over a bunch of vaults. What is he doing here?”

  The newspapers and tabloids had given Sabrina many characteristics, but they’d never mentioned that she was intelligent.

  “There’s more to running a hidden city than simply stealing from the neighbors,” he told her. “Rafe has many responsibilities.”

  “Which is a tidy statement, but doesn’t answer my question.”

  A knock on the door interrupted them. Figures, Sabrina thought. Kardal always seemed to have a lucky escape planned. He crossed to the door and opened it.

  “Thank you for coming,” he said by way of greeting, then stepped back to let a beautiful woman enter the room.

  She was a couple of inches taller than Sabrina, with dark hair swept up in an elegant chignon. She wore a dark purple pants suit with a gold-and-pearl pin on her lapel. Wide brown eyes twinkled with humor as she took in her surroundings.

  “At least you put her in a nice, large room,” she said, glancing from Kardal to Sabrina. “I would hate to think you’d chosen one of the dungeons.”

  “I’m difficult,” Kardal said, “not a barbarian.”

  “Sometimes I can’t see the difference,” the woman murmured before turning her attention to Sabrina. “How nice to meet you at last.”

  Kardal stepped between them. “Mother, this is Princess Sabra of Bahania. Sabrina, my mother, Princess Cala of the City of Thieves.”

  Sabrina blinked in surprise. She took in Princess Cala’s unlined face and youthful features. She was beautiful and couldn’t be more than thirty-five.

  Cala laughed. “Your shocked expression makes me feel positively youthful. I was nearly nineteen when Kardal was born.”

  “Practically an infant yourself,” Kardal said, urging both women toward the low table that had been set with their dinner.

  For the first time Sabrina noticed that Adiva had provided three places. She waited until Cala was seated, then settled across from her. Kardal sat next to his mother. Cala sat on the cushions as if she’d been doing it all her life, which she probably had. Sabrina studied her, noticing the similarities between the two in the shape of their eyes and their smiles.

  Cala motioned for Kardal to open the wine sitting at the end of the low table. She leaned toward Sabrina.

  “I want you to know that I don’t approve of my son’s behavior. I would like to blame someone else for his bad manners, but I fear the fault is mine. I hope you can find some enjoyment during your stay in the City of Thieves, despite the circumstances.”

  “She wants for nothing,” Kardal said firmly. “She has books to entertain herself during the day. I dine with her each evening and I have just agreed to let her catalog the city’s treasures.”

  Sabrina traded a wry smile with Cala. “As your son points out, Princess, my life couldn’t be more perfect.”

  Cala held out her glass to Kardal as he poured the wine. “Tell me, Sabrina, are you as much trouble to your mother as Kardal is to me?”

  “Not really.” Sabrina thought about mentioning that her mother barely noticed when she was around, but didn’t see the point.

  “I thought not.” Cala glanced at her son. “You could learn from that, Kardal.”

  “You adore me,” he said, unruffled by his mother’s complaints. “I am the sun and moon of your world.”

  Cala laughed. “No. You are an occasional light-bulb in a dim room.”

  Kardal gave her a brief hug, then kissed her forehead. “You must not lie. Untruths damage the perfection of your soul. I am your world. Admit it.”

  “You can sometimes be a charming son. Other times, I think I should have been far more firm with you.”

  Sabrina watched the exchange between mother and son. They were obviously close and had great affection for each other. She envied that.

  Kardal poured her wine and she took a sip. “I didn’t know you lived here, Your Highness,” she said.

  “Call me Cala,” Kardal’s mother said, lightly touching her hand. “Despite my son’s highhandedness, I hope that we can be friends. I don’t usually spend much time within the city walls, but I have just returned and plan to spend a few months here.”

  “Mother runs a large charity,” Kardal said. “It provides health care for children.”

  Cala reached for the first serving dish and passed it to her son. “When Kardal left for school in America, I found I had too much time on my hands. I began to travel. Everywhere I went I saw need. So I started the children’s charity as a way to address that.” She smiled. “I was quite wicked. The initial funding for the charity came from some of the stolen treasure. I was careful to choose pieces that could not possibly be returned to a government or family. Still, I expected to be struck by lightning every time I sold something.”

  Kardal passed the vegetable dish to Sabrina. “Sabrina believes the treasure should be returned.”

  Sabrina glared at him. Figures he’d bri
ng that up now. “I understand there are difficulties with some of the items, but not with all of them.”

  “I agree,” Cala said easily. “Perhaps that will happen eventually. The city has not encouraged thievery for many years, but there are still those who remember and long for the old ways.”

  “Oil is more profitable,” Kardal pointed out.

  Cala passed her son another dish and leaned toward Sabrina. “He says that now. But when I insisted he go off to school, he protested for weeks. Threatened to run away into the desert so that I couldn’t find him. He didn’t want to learn western ways.”

  Sabrina glanced at Kardal. “I understand that. When my mother took me from Bahania, I didn’t want to go, either. The transition was difficult. I had the advantage of having lived in California for nearly a year before I started school.”

  Some of Cala’s humor faded from her eyes. She turned to Kardal. “You know I didn’t have a choice in the matter. You were to be ruler of the city. You needed an education.”

  He smiled at her. “Mother, all of your actions were based in what was best for me. I do not regret my time in America.”

  “But it was hard on you.”

  He shrugged. “Life is hard. There were adjustments. I made them.”

  Sabrina waited for him to say more but he didn’t. Had he never told his mother the details of his first few years at the boarding school? He’d told Sabrina. Was that because she was so insignificant as to not matter or because they shared the experience?

  Cala turned back to her. “You had much the same situation, didn’t you?” she asked. “You spent your school year with your mother and your summers in Bahania?”

  Sabrina nodded. “It was always a shock to go from one place to the other. For security reasons my mother never told anyone who I was. As I grew old enough to tell my friends on my own, I didn’t say anything because I thought they either wouldn’t believe me or things would change.”

  Cala glanced at her son. “I believe you shared her opinion.”

  “It was a secret city, Mother. I couldn’t talk about it.”

  Cala changed the subject, mentioning the opening of a new wing in the medical clinic. They discussed the unusually cool spring weather and the latest nomadic tribal council meeting. Sabrina found herself liking Kardal’s mother. The woman was gentle and kind without being spineless. Kardal treated her with great respect. He also glanced at Sabrina from time to time, his eyes almost twinkling, as if she shared a secret with him.

  She wasn’t sure what it could be, but she liked the feeling. It made her shiver nearly as much as his kiss had.

  “I’ve issued an invitation,” Cala said when the meal had finished. Sabrina collected the last of the plates and put them on the tray.

  “Do I need to be concerned?” Kardal asked lazily. “Will twenty women be invading the castle? Should I plan a trip into the desert?”

  His mother busied herself folding her napkin. “No women. Just one man. King Givon.”

  “The king of El Bahar,” Sabrina began. “Why—”

  Kardal rose to his feet. His expression turned dark and forbidding as he glared down at his mother. “How dare you?” he demanded. “You know he is not welcome here. If he tries to step one foot in the City of Thieves, he will be shot on sight. If necessary, I will do it myself.”

  He stalked from the room and slammed the door behind him.

  Sabrina stared after him, bewildered. “I don’t understand,” she whispered. “King Givon is a wonderful ruler. His people adore him.”

  Cala sighed. “Kardal would not care about that. I had hoped time would heal the wound, but I see that I was wrong.”

  “What wound? Why does Kardal hate King Givon?”

  Cala bit her lower lip. “Because Givon is his father.”

  Cala stayed for several minutes before excusing herself, but when Kardal’s mother finally left, Sabrina saw tears glinting in her eyes.

  King Givon was Kardal’s father? Sabrina couldn’t believe it. The king of El Bahar was known to have been a devoted father all his life, and before his wife’s death, they were supposed to have been wildly in love.

  She paced the length of her room for a few minutes, then headed out to find Kardal. She ran into one of the servants and got directions to his private quarters.

  The imposing wood doors with an enamel seal nearly made her turn back, but she had the feeling that Kardal would need to talk to someone tonight. They had more in common than she would have thought so maybe she could help with this. Squaring her shoulders for courage, she knocked once, then entered.

  Kardal’s rooms were large, filled with incredible antiques. She entered a tiled foyer with a fountain trickling in the corner. To her left was a dining area with a table that seated twenty. She recognized the ornate style of eighteenth-century France—a time of excess that produced beautiful furniture. She crossed the living area and saw the balcony doors were open.

  Some inner voice drew her out into the evening coolness. Below were the lights from the city and in the distance, the darkness of the desert. She sensed more than saw movement and approached the man leaning against the wooden railing.

  “Kardal?” she whispered, not wanting to startle him.

  He didn’t say anything, nor did he move away. She walked toward him and stopped when she was next to him. His face was expressionless. As twilight turned to night, his features blurred.

  They were silent for a long time, but she found she didn’t mind the quiet. There was something restful about the desert. The occasional voice drifted up to them. Laughter. So much life all around them, hidden from the rest of the world in this fabled city.

  “I’ve only been here a few days,” she said without thinking, “yet I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”

  “I never wanted to leave,” Kardal replied. “Even when I knew it was for the best.”

  He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the wood railing. “You don’t understand, do you?”

  “Not any of it,” she admitted. “I never knew King Givon was your father. Of course I didn’t know much about the city or its inhabitants so I suppose that’s not a complete surprise. But I thought…” Her voice trailed off. “I don’t know what I thought.”

  “It’s a long story,” he warned.

  She glanced at him and gave him a slight smile. “I might be your slave, but I have amazingly few duties. So I’m free to listen.”

  He nodded briefly, then began. “Centuries ago, before the discovery of oil, there existed what was called the silk road. It was a path through the desert, linking India and China with the west. Trade between the near and far east supported dozens of economies. When the silk road was open, many flourished. When it was closed, countries suffered. Over time the nomads found they could made a good living by offering protection for merchants. Those who dwelled in the City of Thieves learned they could make more by preventing theft than by stealing.”

  “Quite a change in the way of doing business,” she said, listening intently.

  “Agreed. El Bahar and Bahania have been good neighbors for hundreds of years. What most people don’t know is that the City of Thieves is intimately involved with the two countries. There is a symbiotic relationship between the three governments. Five hundred years ago the prince of the city controlled the nomads. He collected a percentage of all goods passing through the desert. Today I collect a percentage of the oil. In return my people keep the desert safe from terrorists and the oil fields free from attack.”

  “Rafe,” she said softly. “He’s not here for castle security at all.”

  “The castle is part of his responsibility,” Kardal told her. “But not the main part. My nomads can only do so much to protect the desert. The use of technology has been growing over the years.”

  She touched his arm, resting her fingertips on his shirt. She could feel the heat of him, and his strength.

  “What does this have to do with your father?”

  He glanced down
at her, then returned his attention to the night sky. “El Bahar, Bahania and the City of Thieves are bound by more than economics. There is also a blood tie. When there is no male heir for the city, either the king of El Bahar or the king of Bahania joins with the oldest daughter, staying with her until she is pregnant. If the child is a boy, he’s the new heir. If the child is a girl, the king returns each year until a son is born. My grandfather had only one child…a daughter.”

  Sabrina withdrew her fingers and pressed them against her chest. “That’s barbaric,” she said, shocked by what he was saying. “He just shows up and sleeps with her? They don’t even get married?”

  Kardal shrugged. “It is the way it has been for a thousand years. The kings alternate so that the blood lines stay connected but still healthy. Two hundred years ago the king of Bahania performed his royal duty. It was King Givon’s turn this time.”

  Sabrina shook her head. Nothing made sense. “But your mother was so young.”

  “Just eighteen.”

  She tried to imagine herself in that position, having to take a stranger into her bed for the sole purpose of getting pregnant. “It could have just as easily been my father,” she breathed. “That would have made us half brother and sister.”

  She wasn’t sure but she thought he might have smiled briefly. “That would have made things more interesting,” he told her. “But we are not related. Although I’m not sure your father would have treated my mother any differently.”

  His anger returned. “Givon never cared about her. He simply did his duty and walked away. Not once in the past thirty years has he been in touch with either of us. He never acknowledged me.”

  Sabrina felt his pain. “I know,” she said softly, leaning toward him but not touching him. “I know exactly what it feels like to be rejected by a parent. There’s a horrible combination of not wanting to care and desperately wanting to be noticed.”

  “My feelings don’t matter,” he said into the darkness. “Thirty-one years after the fact, my father is finally ready to admit I exist.” He shook his head. “It’s too late. I won’t receive him.”