Beholden to the Throne

by Carol Marinelli

  Still, it was not the rival King who troubled her tonight, nor was it the King who employed her.

  It was her own soul.

  She had to leave. She was too involved. Of course she was. Realising the toll her job was taking on her daughter, Amy’s mother was urging her to come home. But as Amy stared out to the sands she was conflicted—she simply could not imagine abandoning the twins.

  Ummi.

  It hurt to hear that word from Clemira and Nakia and to know she would never be one herself.

  Amy gulped in air, determined not to start crying again, but though she was dealing with things better these days—though for the most part she had come to terms with her fate—on nights like tonight sometimes the pain surfaced. Sometimes all she could do was mourn a time when happiness had seemed more certain.

  Or had it?

  She closed her eyes and tried to remember, tried to peer into the dark black hole that was the months and weeks leading up to her accident. Slowly, painfully slowly, she was starting to remember things—choosing her wedding dress, the invitations—but all she could see were images. She simply couldn’t recall how she had felt.

  Amy had always worked with children, and had been about to marry and start a family of her own when a riding accident had ruined everything. Her hopes and dreams, her relationship and even her fertility had all been taken in one cruel swoop.

  Maybe it was for best, Amy pondered—perhaps it was kinder not to remember happier times.

  It had been a relief to get away from London, to escape the sympathy and the attention. But Amy’s mother had warned her about taking this job—had said it was too much and too soon, that she was running away from her problems. She hadn’t been.

  The thought of being involved with two babies from birth, of having a very real role in their lives, had been so tempting. Queen Hannah had been well aware of the challenges her daughters would face, and she had told Amy about the disappointment that would sweep the country if her pregnancy produced girls—especially if it proved too dangerous for Hannah to get pregnant again.

  Hannah had wanted the girls to be educated in London, to live as ordinary girls there. The plan had been that for four years Amy would take care of the girls in Alzan, but that they would then be schooled in the UK. Amy was to be a huge part of their lives—not a mother, of course, but more than an aunt.

  How could she leave now?

  How could she walk away because she didn’t like the way they were being treated?

  Yet how could she stay?

  Amy headed down the corridor to do a final check on the twins, her bare feet making no sound. It was a path she trod many times during the day and night, especially now that they were teething. The link from her suite to the twins’ sumptuous quarters was a familiar one, but as she entered the room Amy froze—for the sight that greeted her was far from familiar.

  There was Emir, his back to her, holding Clemira, who slept on his chest, her head resting on his shoulder, as if it was where she belonged.

  Emir stood, silent and strong, and there was a sadness in him that he would surely not want her to witness—a weariness that had only been visible in the first few days after Hannah’s death. Then he had gone into tahir—had taken himself to the desert for a time of ritual and deep prayer and contemplation. The man who returned to the palace had been different—a remote, aloof man who only occasionally deigned to visit the nursery.

  He was far from aloof now as he cradled Clemira. He was wearing black silk lounge pants and nothing else. His top half was bare. Amy had seen him like this before, but then it had not moved her.

  In the first dizzy days after the twins had been born they had grappled through the night with two tiny babies. Amy had changed one nappy and handed one fresh, clean baby to Emir, so he could take her to Hannah to feed. Things had been so different then—despite their concern for Hannah there had been love and laughter filling the palace and she missed it so, missed the man she had glimpsed then.

  Tonight, for a moment, perhaps that man had returned.

  He’d lost weight since then, she noted. His muscles were now a touch more defined. But there was such tenderness as he held his daughter. It was an intimate glimpse of father and daughter and again she doubted he would want it witnessed. She could sense the aching grief in his wide shoulders—so much so that for a bizarre moment Amy wanted to walk up to him, rest her hand there and offer him silent support. Yet she knew he would not want that, and given she was wearing only her nightdress it was better that she quietly slip away.

  ‘Are you considering leaving?

  He turned around just as she was about to go. Amy could not look at him. Normally her head was covered, and her body too—she wondered if she would be chastised tomorrow for being unsuitably dressed—but for now Emir did not appear to notice.

  She answered his question as best she could. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

  Clemira stirred in his arms. Gently he placed her back in her crib and stared down at his daughter for the longest time before turning back to Amy.

  ‘You’ve been crying.’

  ‘There’s an awful lot to cry about.’ His black eyes did not reproach her this time. ‘I never thought I’d be considering leaving, When Hannah interviewed me—I mean Sheikha Queen—’

  ‘Hannah,’ he interrupted. ‘That is the name she requested you call her.’

  Amy was grateful for the acknowledgement, but she could not speak of this in front of the twins—could not have this conversation without breaking down. So she wished him goodnight and headed back to her room.

  ‘Amy!’ he called out to her.

  She kept on walking, determined to make it to her room before breaking down, stunned when he followed her through the door.

  ‘You cannot leave Alzan now. I think it would be better for the twins—’

  ‘Of course it would be better for the twins to have me stay!’ she interrupted, although she should not. Her voice rose again, although it should not. But she was furious. ‘Of course the twins should have somebody looking after them who loves them—except it’s not my job to love them. I’m an employee.’

  She watched his eyes shutter for a moment as she hurled back his choice word, but he was right—she was an employee, and could be fired at any moment, could be removed from the twins’ lives by the flick of his hand. She was thankful for his brutal reminder earlier. She would do well to remember her place.

  She brushed past him, trying to get to the safety of the balcony, for it was stifling with him in the room, but before she could get there he halted her.

  ‘You do not walk off when I’m talking to you!’

  ‘I do when you’re in my bedroom!’ Amy turned and faced him. ‘This happens to be the one place in this prison of a palace where I get to make the rules, where I get to speak as I choose, and if you don’t like it, if you don’t want to hear it, you can leave.’

  She wanted him out of the room, she wanted him gone, and yet he stepped closer, and it was Amy who stepped back, acutely aware of his maleness, shamefully aware of her own body’s conflicted response.

  Anger burnt and hissed, but something else did too, for he was an impressive male, supremely beautiful, and of course she had noticed—what woman would not? But down there in his office, or in the safety of the nursery, he was the King and the twins’ father, down there he was her boss, but here in this room he was something else.

  Somehow she must not show it, so instead she hurled words. ‘I do love your children, and it’s tearing me apart to even think of walking away, but it’s been nearly a year since Hannah died and I can’t make excuses any more. If they were my children and you ignored them, then I’d have left you by now. The only difference is I’d have taken them with me …’ Her face was red with fury, her blue eyes awash with fresh tears, but there was something more—something she could not tell him. It meant she had to—had to—consider leaving, because sometimes when she looked at Emir she wanted the man he had once bee
n to return, and shamefully, guiltily, despite herself, she wanted him.

  She tore her eyes from his, terrified as to what he might see, and yet he stepped towards her, deliberately stepped towards her. She fought the urge to move towards him—to feel the wrap of his arms around her, for him to shield her from this hell.

  It was a hell of his own making, though, Amy remembered, moving away from him and stepping out onto the balcony, once again ruing the sultry nights.

  But it was not just the night that was oppressive. He had joined her outside. She gulped in air, wished the breeze would cool, for it was not just her face that was burning. She felt as if her body was on fire.

  ‘Soon I will marry …’ He saw her shoulders tense, watched her hands grip the balcony, and as the breeze caught her nightdress it outlined her shape, detailing soft curves. In that moment Emir could not speak—was this the first time he’d noticed her as a woman?

  No.

  But this was the first time he allowed himself to properly acknowledge it.

  He had seen her in the nursery when he had visited the children a few weeks ago. That day he had sat through a difficult meeting with his elders and advisers, hearing that Queen Natasha was due to give birth soon and being told that soon he must marry.

  Emir did not like to be told to do anything, and he rarely ever was.

  But in this he was powerless and it did not sit well.

  He had walked into the nursery, dark thoughts chasing him. But seeing Amy sitting reading to the twins, her blue eyes looking up, smiling as he entered, he had felt his black thoughts leave him. For the first time in months he had glimpsed peace. Had wanted to stay awhile with his children, with the woman he and Hannah had entrusted to care for them.

  He had wanted to hide.

  But a king could not hide.

  Now what he saw was not so soothing. Now her soft femininity did not bring peace. For a year his passion might as well have been buried in the sands with his wife. For a year he had not fought temptation—there had been none. But something had changed since that moment in the nursery, since that day when he had noticed not just her smile but her mouth, not just her words but her voice. At first those thoughts had been stealthy, invading dreams over which he had no control, but now they were bolder and crept in by day. The scent of her perfume in an empty corridor might suddenly reach him, telling him the path she had recently walked, reminding him of a buried dream. And the mention of her name when she had requested a meeting had hauled him from loftier thoughts to ones more basic.

  And basic were his thoughts now, yet he fought them.

  He tried to look at the problem, not the temptation before him, the woman standing with her back to him. He wanted to turn her around, wanted to in a way he hadn’t in a long time. But he was not locked in dreams now. He had control here and he forced himself to speak on.

  ‘I did look through your contract and you are right. It has not been adhered to.’

  Still she did not turn to look at him, though her body told her to. She wished he would leave—could not deal with him here even if it was to discuss the twins.

  ‘After their birthday things are going to get busy here,’ Emir said.

  ‘When you select your bride and marry?’

  He did not answer directly. ‘These are complicated times for Alzan. Perhaps it would be better if the girls spent some time in London—a holiday.’

  She closed her eyes, knew what was coming. Yes, a flight on his luxury jet, a few weeks at home with the twins, time with her family, luxurious hotels … What was there to say no to? Except … She took a deep breath and turned to him. ‘Without you?’

  ‘Yes,’ Emir said.

  She looked at the man who had so loved his children, who was now so closed off, so remote, so able to turn from them, and she had to know why.

  ‘Is it because they remind you of Hannah?’ Amy asked. ‘Is that why it hurts so much to have them around?’

  ‘Leave it,’ he said. He wished the answer was that simple, wished there was someone in whom he could confide. ‘I will have the trip scheduled.’

  ‘So you can remove them a bit more from your life?’

  ‘You do not talk to me like that.’ ‘Here I do.’

  ‘Once I am married the twins will have a mother figure …’

  ‘Oh, please!’

  He frowned at her inappropriate response, but that did not deter her.

  ‘Is it a mother for the twins you are selecting or a bride to give you sons?’

  ‘I’ve told you already: it is not for you to question our ways. What would you know …?’

  ‘Plenty.’ Amy retorted. ‘My parents divorced when I was two and I remember going to my father’s; I remember when he married his new wife—a woman who had no interest in his children, who would really have preferred that we didn’t inconvenience her one Saturday in two.’ She stopped her tirade. There was no point. This was about the twins, not her past.

  But instead of telling her off again, instead of telling her her words were inappropriate, he asked questions.

  ‘How did you deal with it as a child?’ Emir asked—because it mattered. He did want to make things better for his girls. ‘Were you unhappy? Were you …?’

  ‘Ignored?’ She finished his sentence for him and Emir nodded, making her tell him some of her truth. ‘Dad bought me a dolls’ house.’ She gave a pale smile at the memory. ‘I spent hours playing with it. There the mum and dad slept and ate together. The kids played in the garden or in the living room, not up in their room …’ There she’d been able to fix things. Her smile faded and trembled. Here she couldn’t fix things.

  She felt his hand on her bare arm, felt his fingers brush her skin as if to comfort.

  It did not.

  She felt his flesh meet hers and it was all she could think of. His dark hand making contact was all she could think of when her mind should surely be only on the twins.

  She hauled her thoughts back to them. ‘Can I ask,’ she said, ‘that when you consider a bride you think of them?’

  ‘Of course.’

  His voice was soft and low, his hand still warm on her arm and there was a different tension surrounding them, the certainty that she was but a second away from a kiss.

  A kiss that could only spell danger.

  Perhaps that was his plan? Amy thought, shrugging off his hand, turning again to the desert. Perhaps he wanted her to fall in love with him. How convenient to keep her here, to bind her a little closer to the twins, to ensure that she did not resign. For he deemed her better for the twins.

  ‘Leave!’ She spat the word out over her shoulder, but still he stood. ‘Leave …’ she said again. But there was no relief when he complied, no respite when she heard the door close. Amy choked back angry tears as she stood on the balcony, she wanted to call him back, wanted to continue their discussion.… wanted …

  There was the other reason she had to consider leaving.

  Despite herself, despite the way he had been these past months, when he made any brief appearance in the nursery, on the rare occasions when he deigned to appear, her heart foolishly leapt at the sight of him—and lately her dreams had allowed more intimate glimpses of him. It confused her that she could have feelings for a man who paid so little attention to his own children.

  Feelings that were forbidden.

  Hidden.

  And they must stay that way, Amy told herself, climbing into bed and willing sleep to come. But she was nervous all the same, for when she woke it would be morning.

  And tomorrow she would be alone in the desert with him.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘COME in.’

  Amy’s smile wasn’t returned as the bedroom door opened and Fatima walked in.

  ‘I’m nearly ready.’

  ‘What are you doing?’ Fatima frowned, her serious eyes moving over the mountain of coloured paper scattered over Amy’s bed.

  ‘I’m just wrapping some presents to take for the twins. I had
n’t had a chance before.’ She hadn’t had a chance because after a night spent tossing and turning, wondering if she’d misread things, wondering what might have happened had she not told Emir to leave, Amy had, for the first time since she’d taken the role as nanny, overslept.

  Normally she was up before the twins, but this morning it had been their chatter over the intercom that had awoken her and now, having given them breakfast and got them bathed and dressed, five minutes before their departure for the desert, she had popped them in their cots so she could quickly wrap the gifts.

  ‘Their time in the desert is to be solemn,’ Fatima said.

  ‘It’s their birthday.’

  ‘The celebrations will be here at the palace.’ She stood and waited as Amy removed the gifts from her open case. ‘The King is ready to leave now. I will help you board the helicopter with the twins.’ She called to another servant to collect Amy’s case.

  ‘You need to take the twins’ cases also,’ Amy told him.

  ‘I have taken care of that.’ Fatima clearly did not want the King to be kept waiting. ‘Come now.’

  Perhaps she had imagined last night, for Emir barely glanced at the twins and was his usual dismissive self with Amy as they boarded the helicopter. Amy was grateful for Fatima’s help to strap the twins in. The twins were used to flying, and so too was Amy, but what was different this time was the lack of aides—usually at the very least Patel travelled with them, but this trip, as she had been told many times, would be different.

  Amy could almost forgive his silence and his lack of interaction with the girls during the flight, for she was well aware that this was a journey he should have been making with his wife. Perhaps he was more pensive than dismissive?

  Emir was more than pensive: he looked out to the desert with loathing, and the sun glinting on the canyons made him frown as he stared into the distance. He remembered the rebels who’d used to reside there—men who had refused to wait for the predictions to come true, who’d wanted Alzan to be gone and had taken matters into their own bloody hands.