by Holly Rayner
“Some people try to lure their friends out with hot guys. Others try to lure them out with jobs.” Sarah laughed.
It was a hollow sound.
“We’re going to get you through this, Sarah. I promise. You are going to make it through, okay?”
“Okay.”
“See you tonight?”
“Maybe.”
“Ugh, you’re impossible. I’ll call you again later. Bye.”
Jen hung up before Sarah could get her own farewell in, and she placed her phone back on the table, staring at it for several minutes before turning on her computer.
What did she expect? A phone call from Ali? Would she even want one after all they’d said to each other? Not to mention the fact that he had no intention of changing his ways, and that was a trait in a man Sarah could never forgive. Her eyes felt like burned sandpaper as she stared at the screen, scrolling through job after job, feeling sick inside just thinking about spending her time at each one.
Needing a break, she headed over to a general news website and began glancing through the headlines.
Al Jayah…
“What?” she said aloud, her eyes darting to the story.
She had never seen Al Jayah in the news before, and when her eyes landed on the headline, she nearly choked.
Al Jayah Sheikh is a fraud!
Clicking on the title, Sarah quickly read the short article.
The Sheikh of Al Jayah, Ahmad bin-Yousuf al-Jayah, has admitted that he was adopted as a young child, rendering him false as the leader of the Middle Eastern country. The Sheikh has scheduled a speech on the steps of the palace, located in the micronation’s capital, Rayah, where he will address his people directly regarding this gross fabrication of his person. Consequences for Al Jayah could be dire, as the people of the country will now have shaken trust in the monarchy and rightful rule of the nation. The Sheikh has revealed his true name to be Ali Al-Jamil, from the northern village of Ferat.
This is a developing story that will be updated as information becomes available.
Sarah read and reread the article several times, always stopping at the end, where the article gave the date and time of Ali’s speech—the following evening.
The one thing keeping her away from him, he had faced, head-on. He had done what she’d asked. Sarah stared at her computer with a blank expression, processing this new information. There was no question about what she needed to do.
Sarah had to get back to Al Jayah.
Picking up her phone on impulse, she stared at it for a moment, realizing she didn’t have any way to contact Ali. They hadn’t even bothered to exchange phone numbers! There was no way (short of sending another message in a bottle, and who had twenty years to wait for that reply?) to talk to him, other than in person.
Clicking on an airline site, Sarah checked her bank account from her phone. She had spent most of her money already and had just barely enough to buy one more flight to Al Jayah.
Taking a deep breath, Sarah bought herself a ticket, her fingers hovering over the mouse before she released the final click that confirmed her flight. Bolting from her chair, she made quick work of packing a bag. She was unable to sit still as she thought about Ali sitting in his palace alone with the truth out for the world to see. She should be with him. She should be by his side.
After grabbing her passport, Sarah clung to her small suitcase as she ran down the stairs and hailed a cab to take her to the airport. On the way, she texted Jen that she wouldn’t be making it on account of a last-minute trip to Al Jayah.
Good. Invite me to the wedding, okay?
Sarah rolled her eyes at the response and replaced her phone, staring out the window as the humid streets of Miami passed her by. Somehow the dry warmth of Al Jayah had stuck with her, and she looked forward to lathering up with tons of lotion if it meant being with Ali.
She made it through customs and security without trouble, and as she boarded her plane and took her seat, she realized that the next several hours of sitting would, without a doubt, be the longest hours of her entire life.
NINETEEN
After what felt like a hundred years later, Sarah landed in Al Jayah. It was midafternoon of the following day by then, and Ali’s speech was due to start within the hour. Sarah pulled out her phone and dialed up Fariq.
“This is Fariq. Where can I find you?”
“Fariq! It’s Sarah Chamberlain!”
“Sarah? I’m sorry. I don’t know anyone by that name. Anyone named Sarah told me she’d be leaving my country forever before handing me a terribly large wad of cash.”
“Don’t be cheeky with me, Fariq. I need your help!”
“What am I, your rescue service?”
“Hey, I think I paid for at least a week’s worth of taxi rides when last we met. You owe me, bud.”
Fariq gave a theatrical, false sigh.
“Fine. Where at you at this time, Sarah Chamberlain?”
“The airport. Where else would I be?”
“Good point. It’s almost like you live there or something.”
“Almost,” Sarah said with a chuckle. “I’ll meet you at the pick-up area.”
“I’ll be there, faithful to the end!” Fariq said, ending the call.
Sarah walked briskly through the airport terminal, shifting from one foot to the other as she waited in line at customs to clear her luggage. She half expected (or hoped, if she were being honest) to see one of Ali’s bodyguards waiting to pick her up and take her to see him. When neither of them showed up to manhandle her away, Sarah made her exit. Fariq was already waiting.
“I believe our last words to one another were something along the lines of ‘good-bye forever,’ right? How many more of those are we going to have?”
Sarah smiled.
“Hopefully none if you can get me to the palace in the next thirty minutes.”
“Ah, for the Sheikh’s speech. You might have heard he’s a phony—some kid from the north who got swapped with the real deal.”
Sarah reached into her purse and pulled out the bottle.
“Who also happens to have written a message long ago that I happened to find.”
Fariq stared at the bottle, deciphering her meaning, his eyes widening.
“The Sheikh was your missing friend?” he asked, stunned.
Sarah nodded.
“He was, and now he’s made the scariest decision of his life because of me, and I have to get to him, Fariq. If the world turns against him, it will be entirely my fault.”
“Not entirely,” Fariq said. “I mean, you weren’t the one who deceived an entire country for twenty-some-odd years.”
“Are you angry with him?” Sarah asked, curious about how the people were taking the news.
Fariq gestured for her to get into the car so they could get moving, and he slid into the driver’s seat as he answered.
“Am I mad at the man who has brought the economy from the negatives to a flourishing positive? Am I mad at the man who singlehandedly rebuilt our tourist industry, filling my pockets to the brim so I can live the lavish lifestyle I so deeply love?”
He shrugged.
“Yeah, a little. I mean, not enough to rise up against him, though it will be interesting to see what he has to say.”
“Yes, it will,” Sarah said, staring out the window at the metropolis she’d thought she’d never lay eyes on again.
Fariq sped through the city in his usual way, though as they approached the palace, they were blocked by a massive crowd standing before the front steps. When Fariq came to a full stop, Sarah opened the door.
“Thank you, Fariq! I won’t forget this!”
“See that you don’t. I could use some favors from someone close to the Sheikh!”
Sarah laughed. “Oh, don’t start brownnosing me now. It doesn’t suit you.”
Fariq gave her a salute before she took off, running through the crowd and pressing her way through people as she was cast a sea of dirty looks for her
rudeness. Sarah didn’t care. She pushed all the way to the steps, where she stood front and center as Ali opened the palace doors.
As he walked up to a microphone, the crowd went oddly quiet, and Sarah nearly called out to him, but she didn’t want to disrupt whatever he was planning to say. Instead, she stood, her feet planted, and watched the man she loved face his people with a stoic and remorseful face.
“Good evening, and thank you for coming tonight to hear me speak. First off, I’m grateful to you all for allowing me this platform, where I can share my story with you and lay bare all of my sins in the hope that we can move forward as a stronger, more united country.”
The people continued to stare on silently, absorbing his words. Hearing his voice again, Sarah’s heart soared even as she feared the consequences of his actions. She reminded herself that it was she who had told him to be brave. She would have to do the same.
“I was born a peasant boy, barely able to read and write, and when I was ten, the future Sheikh died of illness. My royal parents, the Sheikh and Sheikha you once knew, decided that the country’s best interest lay in the hands of those who would serve the people rather than themselves. They knew there were those who would try to take the throne for themselves and use it to hurt others for their own benefit. Instead of allowing that to happen, they found me and raised me as Ahmad.”
There was a rumbling of surprise at this admission. Ali held his gaze steady as he looked out, releasing all his hidden burdens to the world. Sarah saw elements of relief etched into his expression, and she was glad for it.
“While my parents’ adoption does in fact make me the legal heir to this throne, I understand that it was given through underhanded means and that you have been deceived for what my parents believed to be the greater good. I would like to carry on that good on your behalf. I love this country, and I love the people who live here. I have spent most of my life preparing for this role, and I take it very seriously. I know it will take time to earn your trust again, but I will do whatever it takes to do so, because I believe in Al Jayah, and I will work for you every single day until we are better than we ever dreamed we could be!”
At that the crowd cheered, waving the flag of Al Jayah in the air as they accepted their monarch. As Sarah looked around, she was met with smiling, hopeful faces, and it seemed as though many were just happy to get to lay eyes on Ali for the first time in his royal life.
As the cheering died down, Ali gave the crowd a warm smile, and his eyes scanned across the horizon, moving forward and colliding with Sarah’s. His face crumpled with an emotion Sarah couldn’t recognize, but he quickly collected himself and addressed the people once again.
“This realization, this understanding that you deserved to know the truth, didn’t come from me. I wish it had. The truth is that I was scared you wouldn’t accept me for who I was, even though the man I’ve become has worked hard to give you all the better lives you deserve. I needed courage to stand before you now and tell you the truth. I needed to hear the words no one knew needed to be said.”
The group had grown hushed again at this speech, and Ali gazed lovingly at Sarah as he continued.
“There is one woman who was willing to stand up to my fears and force me to face them down. She is a far braver woman than I could have ever hoped for, and she has changed my life in more ways than she’ll ever know.”
He looked out at the ocean of people then and smiled.
“Would you like to meet her?” he asked, and a loud roar exploded all around them.
Sarah laughed, though the sound was drowned out in the melee surrounding them. Ali reached out a hand to her, inviting her up, and Sarah blushed as she stepped away from the crowd and joined him on the platform.
“Al Jayah, this is Sarah Chamberlain, and I’m here to tell you that I love her more than life itself.”
The crowd went wild as Ali took Sarah in his arms and kissed her right then and there, in front of the whole country, in front of the whole world. Sarah heard people calling for a response, and she grinned at him as she pulled back, smiling against his lips.
“I love you too, Sheikh Ali,” she said.
There, on the steps of the palace, they held each other tightly, basking in a love that was open, honest, and true.
And the crowd went wild.
The End
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And now, as promised, are the first few chapters of my previous novel, The Sheikh And The Cowgirl. Enjoy!
ONE
Alarm clocks were for the birds.
Anne-Marie groaned as the loud, penetrating beep of her own alarm screamed out into the darkness of her bedroom. She rolled over onto her stomach, slamming a palm against the top of the clock and silencing it. She lay in her bed, warm and comfortable, her eyes begging to stay closed as she rested in her perfect cocoon.
Still, she had responsibilities. As her father had always said, no one chose to be a rancher because it was easy.
Opening her eyes, she rubbed away some sleep before sitting up, resting her forearms on top of her raised knees. There hadn’t been a day in her life that Anne-Marie Benson hadn’t woken up before the sun. She could count a million sunrises, each one more beautiful than the last. Sometimes, though, she wished she could just have one good lie-in. Perhaps sleep until noon and do nothing else all day.
Nah.
Tossing the blanket to the side, Anne-Marie slid out of bed, her bare feet padding along the cool wooden floor that hadn’t been updated since the early twentieth century—maybe longer. Each floorboard creaked as she made her way expertly in the dark to her small country kitchen, where she set up the coffeepot.
Anne-Marie had been to town to pick up supplies a while back, and she had come across a coffee maker that used little cups to produce just one cup of flavored coffee. She had been horrified by the whole thing, though the people in the store had just laughed at her. Pouring loose coffee grounds into the filter, she pressed the on button and headed back to her bedroom, waving to a photograph on the wall.
The pair in the picture did not wave back.
Opening her closet, Anne-Marie pulled out a long-sleeved plaid shirt, a pair of jeans, and a tool belt. She quickly pulled on her clothing, grabbing the belt, and bringing it into the bathroom, where she brushed her teeth and tossed her long, chestnut-brown hair into a practical ponytail. The silence of the morning had become her regular companion, and she listened to the crunch of the toothbrush bristles before she spit her final round into the sink and rinsed it away.
Anne-Marie hadn’t been raised to be a high-maintenance girl. She wore simple clothes and took little time to get ready each day—the better to get work done—and that was that. As she made her way back into the kitchen, the smell of hot black coffee tickled her nostrils, and she filled an old, rust-orange mug before taking a delicate sip as she sat at a square wooden table, alone.
Her father had always taken his coffee black. It was something she’d started doing with him when she entered her teens, and he had let her. Some of her best memories were of sitting at that table with him, drinking the hot, bitter liquid before they headed out into the fields for the day. She finished about half of her cup before setting it down and strapping on her leather work belt.
It was time to start the day.
Anne-Marie opened her front door, which led to a sweeping, rounded porch. The exterior of the house was whitewashed, though it hadn’t been painted in so long that it was veering toward a sickly gray color, like spoiled milk. An old rocking chair creaked in front of a neglected flower bed, and Anne-Marie considered taking a seat in it for a moment before thinking better of it. Her charges would be demanding food right about now, and she had to set them free.
Gazing out at the land, Anne-Marie took a breath, giving
herself a moment to enjoy the rising sun as it peeked over the horizon. The thing about Texas was that it was one long stretch of flat land that granted full access to the towering beauty of the sky. All around her the heavens were saturated with creamy oranges and pinks, swirling around a smattering of clouds. Whenever she saw that sky, she knew her parents were in a safe place, even if they couldn’t be with her.
The front-porch steps groaned beneath her meager weight as she headed toward the large barn situated a stone’s throw from the ranch house. A black-and-white cat dashed out from beneath the porch and began coiling itself around her legs as she walked, and Anne-Marie laughed.
