She needed a shower. She needed water, and food and—what have I done? The thought came unbidden. Pacing to the door, she leaned against it, tipping her cheek against the wood.
Had there been any choice but to leave the comfort of Ahsan's palace? With the looks the women had thrown her way in the foyer, Sessily hadn't been confident that the ladies hadn't sold her down the river. But would Ahsan have gone this hard on her, even if she'd been planning to help them escape?
She just didn't know. In the moment, she'd felt it prudent to get out of there and seek refuge somewhere else until she could figure out how to rescue Iris.
What a mess. What a great, horrible mess. Now she was here, without a way out, and without knowing the status of her sister. Sliding her hand into a pocket, she came across the vial of poison and pulled it out. Crouching down, she held the vial nearer to the sliver of light at the bottom of the door.
Maybe she still had a proverbial ace up her sleeve. The vial and thus the poison, was still in tact. The men hadn't thought to pat her down, although they had taken her phone sometime between finding her in the desert and now. How did she best use this to her advantage? Perhaps she could lie and tell Bashir that she'd planted the vial with a note before leaving Ahsan's palace, implicating Bashir in a murder plot. She could say she'd gained the confidence of a staff member who promised to make sure Ahsan found the stash if she and Iris were not released in a timely manner.
Would it work? She came at the idea from all angles, finding a few flaws with the plan.
Before she could delve too far into the semantics, she heard movement outside the door. Scrambling to her feet, she fumbled the vial as a key rattled in the lock. Catching it against her body, she shoved the poison into her pocket just as the door opened. Squinting against the spill of brighter light from a hallway, she tried to act like she hadn't just been doing something she shouldn't.
“Come with me,” a man said in heavily accented English. Dressed in white head to toe, the guard sported a medium beard, thick mustache and had the same dark eyes as Ahsan.
“Where am I going?” she asked, hesitant to leave the room suddenly.
The guard gave her a long, cool stare. “You do not argue. Do as I say, or I'll drag you.”
Sessily bristled. Her natural instinct was to tell the heathen that she didn't have to do anything, and that dragging was for stone age cavemen. Biting back the retort, she followed the guard into a hallway that was no more appealing than the room. At the end of the corridor, he took her up a short flight of steps to another door, and all that changed.
The nondescript 'holding cells', as she thought of them, gave over to the kind of opulence she'd glimpsed in Ahsan's home. They were in a round room of sorts, with several doors and a few other hallways leading different directions. The luxury was almost obtuse, the gleam of gold lining the molding high on the walls and trickling down to the intricate carvings inlaid into frames. The guard led her through a short maze of shorter halls, up three marble stairs, and around a corner.
Here, a great room sprawled into existence. High ceilings gave the space an atmospheric quality, drawing the eye upward to the masterful paintings that covered every inch of ceiling space. It rivaled the Sistine Chapel for beauty and elegance. Marble floors veined in gold gave way to tall columns that flanked the entire room, ending at a dais with a gilt chair Sessily could only call a throne.
Bashir sat there in all his glory, a few sprigs of incense spilling spirals of smoke into the air at his side. Aids, advisors and what she thought were guards loitered around the throne, speaking in calm, low voices.
“Come,” the guard said, leading her down a few steps to the floor.
Overwhelmed by the sense of majesty, and a little disgusted to think that Bashir probably made some of his fortune off the backs of women like those in the harem, Sessily followed the guard toward the dais. She took note how Bashir made sure to seat himself in a position that visitors coming in tall doors opposite the dais would have to approach from a lower angle, forcing guests to look up while he looked down.
Which is what he did once she and the guard reached the bottom of four broad stairs leading up to the throne. They did not ascend, of course, but hovered there until Bashir deigned to notice.
It took him ten full minutes of ignoring her on purpose before his dark gaze landed on her.
Sessily was fit to scream by then, offended and affronted at the callous treatment. At the blatant wait, driving home the point that he would get to her when he was good and ready and not a moment before. She'd had a belly full of these arrogant, self-serving men.
“Due to your recent failure, and because you have become the dead weight I mentioned, I have decided to send you on from here. Your transfer into the hands of another will happen tomorrow, and I would like you to reflect upon the fact that things could have gone much smoother for you if you'd done what you were told.” Bashir stared down with annoyed imperialism.
A cold stab of fear lanced through Sessily. Transferred to who? “What about my sister?”
“As I said—you should have taken your duties more seriously. You were warned, however.” Bashir paused, holding up a stalling hand when she opened her mouth to protest. “Hush. There is another matter of more importance.”
Sessily's teeth clicked together. She wanted to argue the point: there was nothing more important to her than her sister. Had the bastard 'sent Iris on'? Given her to some other crony, shipped her off to an unknown corner of the world? The thought made her shake with fury and indignation. And fear.
“We found you in the desert with the clothes on your back, which means you left everything else behind at the palace. What has become of the gift I left you with?”
“By 'gift', you mean poison. What have I done with the poison.” Sessily could not rein in her wayward tongue. The ripple of murmurs that passed through the aids and advisors quieted when Bashir held a hand up to silence them. Clearly, she'd caught quite a few people off guard with that statement. Some had undoubtedly been in on the plan with him—some had not.
“Where is it,” he repeated. “Be very careful what comes out of your mouth.”
This was her chance. Did she dare engage in yet another lie, one that might potentially backfire? If she worded it right, perhaps she could be free of the horror he meant to inflict upon her.
Just as she drew a breath to spin an elaborate tale, a commotion at the open doors behind her brought Sessily up short. Twisting a look over her shoulder, she saw guards and advisors scurry out of someone's way.
In sauntered Ahsan, drawing the eye of every person present. The grandeur of the throne room seemed diminished suddenly, all because Ahsan deigned to approach the dais with the distinct air of someone with far more authority than the figure that lorded over the room from on high. Arrogant, confident, enigmatic, Ahsan commanded the attention of the lowliest servant to the Crown Prince himself.
A Crown Prince who did not look happy to see his brother there.
Sessily wasn't sure what to think of the way Ahsan didn't so much as glance her way. As if she didn't exist. Standing directly before the dais, there was no way he could have missed her—yet nothing. No flicker of acknowledgement.
He was larger than life here, too, as he had been at the gala, a man cowed by no one nor moved to do anything he didn't want to do.
Stepping up beside her with perhaps a foot distance between them, Ahsan propped a boot negligently on the lowest stair and cocked his weight back on the other foot. Despite the fact he was at the base of the dais, there was every sensation that Ahsan was the bigger man here, in control, merely playing Bashir's game better than the Crown Prince ever could.
Sessily tore her gaze off Ahsan to pin a look on Bashir. A muscle jumped in Bashir's jaw repeatedly while he stared his brother down.
An expectant hush fell over the entire room. Nothing moved, no one spoke.
“What, no warm welcome? No dancing women, no siren to serenade me?” Ahsan's gra
velly voice lifted to the rafters, yet he did not bellow. He didn't have to, not with everyone else so quiet. One hand splayed over his heart in the traditional sign of mortal offense.
The open mockery seemed to grate on Bashir's nerves. He said, “To what do I owe the honor of your visit, brother?”
“Perhaps I should be asking you the same. To what do I owe the honor of your intrusion into my home, my public life? Have you learned what you wanted by planting a spy inside the walls of my sanctuary?” Ahsan asked conversationally.
Sessily was not the only one who gasped in surprise. Ahsan didn't waste any time getting straight to the point. How had he known she'd been sent to spy? Had he been aware the entire time, waiting for her to slip up or to catch her reporting back to Bashir?
Put on the spot in front of so many witnesses, Bashir shifted on the throne, flipping the corner of a robe over his knee in agitation. “It is not as dramatic as all that,” Bashir said. He snapped his fingers, sending several servants and lesser advisors from the room.
Sessily noticed that not all departed, but hovered near archways to hear how the confrontation played out.
“Oh, I think it is. What has you so paranoid this time? Do you worry that our esteemed father will change his mind and strip you of a title we all know you don't deserve?” Ahsan asked, goading Bashir further.
Sessily glanced between men. She understood just how small and insignificant she really was in the grand scheme of things, and that her little ploys and lies over the poison probably wouldn't have gained her any kind of leverage or freedom. These were heirs to an empire, men engaged in a power struggle she would never completely comprehend. They had access to limitless resources and only the best man would come out on top. Or come out alive.
It was humbling and disconcerting to realize she was a gnat in the presence of giants.
“As usual, Ahsan, you overstep yourself. I have nothing to fear for my title and position. You, on the other hand, are the only son banished to the furthest corners of our country, a blight upon the Afshar name and credibility.” Bashir laughed. “No, I think I have little to fear. You do need to be kept an eye on, however, so you do not jeopardize all that the Emir and I have accomplished—and that I intend to accomplish when I ascend the throne. There is your reason for the spy.”
Sessily could have argued Bashir's reasoning. She knew there was more to it than that Bashir was worried over Ahsan embarrassing the Afshar name. This was not her battle, nor her business, and vowed to remain quiet despite the knowledge she carried with her. Ahsan hadn't mentioned the idea of murder, yet, which meant he was either saving it for something special or he didn't know.
If only Ahsan had been the man she'd wished him to be. She could have produced the vial right then and there and outed Bashir for the bastard he was. What would Ahsan say then?
A quick glance aside brought Ahsan's profile into view. His eyes gleamed like he was enjoying the conversation, his posture still one of relaxed control. He did not look the least bit put off by words like banishment and blight. The way he smiled a moment after that sent a chill down her spine. Had she been the one in the throne, she wouldn't have enjoyed seeing it on an adversary's face.
“You should ask yourself who is keeping an eye on who,” Ahsan said in a silky, dark voice. “But it is the way of a man blind to his own troubles who never sees a fall coming. I should not have to state the obvious: not everything is what it seems.”
Confused, Sessily glanced back to Bashir. Did Ahsan know more than he was letting on? What did that mean, who was keeping an eye on who? Murmurs swept through the advisors once more.
With a sudden shift, she suddenly found her elbow in Ahsan's palm. He firmly guided her back from the dais, never once making eye contact.
“Wait. Wait just a moment. What do you think you're doing?” Bashir stood up from the throne for the first time.
Ahsan paused long enough to glance back. “Collecting the spoils of war, brother. There is another I require at my doorstep by noon tomorrow. Her sister, Iris. Should she not arrive by the allotted time, my men and I will lay siege to your crumbling empire. Heed my warning well.”
A thunderous roar of shock followed them out the doors into the sun.
Stunned, all she could do was try and keep pace beside the stalking Sheikh.
Chapter Fourteen
Sessily viewed the palace from the perspective of the helicopter. It looked even bigger and more imposing than she imagined, with its peaks and arches and inviting, emerald courtyard. She had a bird's eye view of the track she'd raced upon and the smaller dots of brown, gray and black that represented horses out to pasture. Grass grew in abundance only within the perimeters of the fences, likely cared for year around.
Ahsan sat next to her, hands resting on his thighs, ears covered by a headset. She wore one, too, and was glad for the reprieve from conversation during the trip. Sessily needed the time to think. To consider all she'd learned and heard. And it didn't help that her skin hurt like the devil, burning and itching uncontrollably.
Landing on the adjacent heli-pad, Ahsan disembarked without so much as a glance her way or a word once the headsets were off. One of the guards helped her down, handling her and her wounds with care.
Instead of getting into a waiting car to be taken the short distance to the palace, Ahsan struck out on foot across the terrain for the back wall of the structure.
Not to be outdone, Sessily ignored the car as well and marched after him, growing more and more annoyed with every passing minute. She was just a 'spoil of war', what had she expected—the usual kind treatment he'd doled out effortlessly all this time? When was he going to explain about her sister, and what he meant to do with them both once Iris was here?
Sessily licked her chapped lips at the thought of seeing Iris again, desperate to have her sister safe. Or as safe as they could be with Ahsan.
“Excuse me,” she said to his back.
Ahsan didn't so much as twitch. Striding long and determined, he closed in on the back gate.
“Excuse me!” she said again, raising her voice. Why was he just walking away? Sessily followed, ignoring the pain moving quickly brought. Her clothes kept brushing against her sunburn, threatening to drive her a little mad.
Up through the gate, into the courtyard, past the pool. Sessily couldn't keep up. She broke into a jog and caught up to Ahsan just as he entered the palace itself. Catching his arm, out of breath from hurrying, she applied pressure so he would face her. The strength under her fingers was absolute; he wouldn't stop unless he wanted to.
Surprised when he did, she let go of his elbow and stared up into his face. “What's all this about? You bring me here, then walk off?”
“What did you expect me to do? Roll out the red carpet? Have a party waiting?” His gaze was aloof, distanced.
“Of course not. But you can explain how you knew about me. How you knew about Iris—were you aware the whole time? Did you play along to see how far I would go?” Sessily searched his unreadable eyes. She wasn't used to seeing him like this. So...standoffish. Untouchable.
“I'm not sure why you think I should tell you anything. You didn't bother to trust me, confide in me, so I don't see the need to return the favor.” He shrugged her off and headed deeper into the palace.
Mouth agape, too stunned to react, Sessily watched him disappear around a tall column in the direction of the staircase. Moments later she was on his heels, trotting up the steps at his flank.
“And why should I have? Trusted you, I mean? He's using my sister against me—how was I to know you weren't exactly like him?” she argued, halting at the landing when he paused to give her a hard look.
“The fact you're asking, and expect an answer out of me, speaks for itself. If I'd meant to hurt you, I would have.”
Sessily disliked the chiding look in his eyes. The you should have known I wouldn't hurt you expression that somehow expected more of her. For the first time, she felt guilty. A brief flash tha
t dissipated as quickly as it came.
“I saw you,” she whispered. Goosebumps rained down the aching skin of her arms at the admission. If he thought he could chastise her without retribution, without being called out on his own faults, he needed to think again.
“Saw me what?” He stood with his body to the side, looking sideways at her. As if he didn't plan on being there long enough to fully engage her.
“I saw you with them. I know what you are, and what you're doing. I didn't want to believe it, but I can't argue with what I see.” Sessily had been about to trust him with everything right before coming upon him in the foyer with the women.
Frowning, he closed the small distance between them. And he didn't stop until her back came flush with the wall. Bracing a hand above her head, he said, “I have no idea what you're talking about. Who is 'them'?”
Sessily swallowed with difficulty. He never made it easy to concentrate when he got too close like this.
Stay focused.
“The women. Please don't pretend, don't lie anymore. You're as involved in the trafficking rings as your brother. I saw the women here, watched you circle them like meat at the market. Not just that, but the text the day before. I saw it on your phone when you went to take care of whatever business called you away. We have five more women. Are you still going to deny it?” Now it was out there and she couldn't take it back. She couldn't undo her suspicions. Couldn't undo the accusations.
If she'd thought he was cold before, Sessily wasn't prepared for the splash of ice that hit her when he suddenly leaned away, taking all his warmth with him.
“Well. You've got me all figured out, don't you? Packaged nicely into a box of assumptions that leaves no room for truth or discussion.” He paused three feet away to add, “When your sister arrives tomorrow, be prepared to depart for where ever it is you call home. I doubt my brother will chase you to the ends of the earth again so you should be safe enough.”
Speechless, all she could do was watch as he strode down the hall and disappeared around a corner. His reaction wasn't what she'd expected—of course. She thought he would defend himself and his actions with more of his overbearing arrogance.
The Royal Elite: Ahsan (Elite, Book 2) Page 14
