"That crown is just supposed to look like the Palm of Askar. It's a fake. A replica." Elise had been very excited about the thank you gift. There'd been some story about the giant, deeply green emerald set into the apex of the tiara--the Palm of Askar. At the time, she hadn't really been listening, just thinking about how she'd just agreed to go with her parents on a trip she was bound to hate instead of being with her friends.
Oh yeah, she realized. Elise had said the jewel was missing.
Treasure, Bonnie nearly sang. Ask about the treasure.
Noelle told the women how she'd come to have a fake version of their legendary crown jewel. "It's not a coincidence or a sign. It's designed to look like that. Elise found some old pictures of the emerald online. I'm sorry. It's not real."
Faridah sniffed the air. "I knew that."
"You did not at first," Suzette grouched. Whether it was a teasing joke or an actual criticism, Noelle couldn't say. Suzette seemed to have one tone of voice--gruff.
"It is a sign nonetheless," Faridah insisted.
"That I'm some princess reborn, only she wasn't a princess?"
"She was a legendary thief." The young woman leaned across the table, her voice all drama and intrigue. Noelle felt a story coming on... "In the time when this land was young, she came here to steal the Palm of Askar. She had already stolen a bag of diamonds from the Caliph of Baghdad. She took a thousand silks from the Sultan of Turkey, right from under his nose. She smuggled a thousand elephants from the court of Mughal Emperor by painting them green so they couldn't be seen in the jungle. She lived on a fast ship upon the ocean and sailed the world, stealing from the very rich."
Pirate princess. Inside her head, Bonnie did a dance of excitement. Pirate. Princess. Pirate princess!
"And she came here," Noelle prompted.
Faridah was a real storyteller, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "The legend of the beautiful jewels of Askar had reached even as far as her ear. The Heart, the Eye, and especially the Palm--an emerald of such deep color that it had no comparison, the size of a man's palm."
Noelle found that she'd leaned over the table to hear Faridah better, sucked in by the tale. She also noticed that the women working around them had become much quieter, all of them damping their cooking noises so they could catch what was being said.
"Wait, wait." It was a good story, but Noelle had to call BS. Elise's story about the Palm was coming back to her. "She couldn't have stolen the Palm. The emerald was here until World War II, when it was lost."
"Not lost," countered Suzette. "Hidden. And never found."
Faridah ignored the interruption and continued. "Inaya Al Hurra disguised herself as a poor serving girl and begged to be employed in the kitchens of the palace. She intended to make the sheikh notice her, gain his favor, and then make off with the jewel. She had heard that the sheikh was a kindly man and, while it pained her to steal from an honest soul, the temptation of the jewel was too great.
"When she arrived in Askar to learn the kindly sheikh and his son had been murdered by a vicious rival, she became even more determined to steal the jewel. But the usurper was careful, and no serving girls caught his eye.
"Inaya Al Hurra began to think that she would have to leave without the Palm when one day, her master told her to deliver food to the prisoner in the tallest tower."
"Was that here, in the Red Palace?" Noelle couldn't stop herself from asking.
"Yes, the very tower above our heads now. The jailer had fallen ill and Inaya Al Hurra had been such a good worker that she was the only one that could be trusted with this task. She was warned that the prisoner was a shape-shifting djinni who would take any form to gain her sympathy. But she was also told that the evil sheikh had put a spell on the door so that only he could open it."
"Djinni? The one in Walid's bloodline?"
"No," Faridah said. "This was before his dynasty. The rule passed out of their hands many centuries ago."
"So you are free to marry Sheikh Walid," growled Suzette.
Noelle managed not to roll her eyes. The grizzly woman actually shared her niece's overly romantic ideas.
"That is true. Inaya Al Hurra would not be his ancestor," clarified Faridah.
Before Noelle could again mention that she really wasn't a legendary pirate princess reborn, Faridah continued. "When Inaya Al Hurra arrived at the jail cell, she didn't find a genie, but a man as beautiful as the stars in the sky. The parts of him she saw through the cracks in the door, in any case."
She was starting to see the shape of this story. "Let me guess--the prince who was supposed to be dead."
"Exactly!" crowed Faridah, her dark eyes lit from within. "Your heart tells you this story is true. You feel it in your soul."
You're not going to win this one, Bonnie stated.
I haven't won anything since I got here, Noelle pointed out. "Anyway, please go on."
Faridah went on. With a vengeance. "With the help of the staff in the kitchen, to whom she revealed the plot, Inaya Al Hurra drugged the food of the prince's guards. But as they were trying to break down the door of the cell, the evil sheikh discovered them. He reminded Inaya Al Hurra that he was the only one who could open the cell door, and he threw her inside with the prince."
Oh no! said Bonnie. Don't let this story be one of those ones that doesn't have a happy ending. Noelle, do something!
"When Inaya Al Hurra found herself locked in the chamber with the prince, she saw that he was the most beautiful man who had graced the earth."
"Except for Sheikh Walid," Suzette said grumpily. And Noelle didn't know if that was for her benefit or just Suzette's own opinion.
"Even in his ragged state, Inaya Al Hurra saw that his legs were well formed and his shoulders wide. Though his hair had not been tended for many months, it was thick and dark. And the prince's eyes danced at the sight of Inaya Al Hurra as well, though many had considered her plain and she had always encouraged that. The best thieves are always plain. He kissed her hand with royal civility and wished that he could offer her better hospitality.
"But Inaya Al Hurra was far more clever than any evil sheikh. She unwound the sash binding her waist to reveal a sturdy rope long enough to reach the ground."
I knew it! Bonnie said.
"Long rope," Noelle noted. That tower had to be ten stories.
"All along, Inaya Al Hurra's plan had been to get inside the bespelled door. Together, she and the prince climbed out the window and to freedom. When the people saw their prince had not been killed, they rose up against the evil sheikh and returned the true ruler to the throne of Askar."
But what happened to the pirate princess? insisted Bonnie.
"In return for saving him, the prince offered Inaya Al Hurra the Palm of Askar. She refused. He offered her a palm full of gold. She refused. He offered her a palm that held a map of half his kingdom. She refused. Finally, he offered her his own palm--a place by his side."
"So, she married him and they lived happily ever after, I guess," Noelle said. It had been a satisfying story, but she couldn't help feeling that something was missing.
"No one lives forever, princess," said Faridah. "They lived a long life, full of years. Inaya Al Hurra bore her prince four fine, wise sons and one plain, disobedient daughter. On the day the prince passed from this world, of old age, Inaya Al Hurra boarded her fast ship and sailed away, never to return. Her plain, disobedient daughter went with her, to learn the way of the thief."
Suzette's grave nod at this ending put a stake in the idea that the woman was sensible. "And when Askar is in its greatest need, the line of Inaya Al Hurra will return to save us. That day is now."
They all turned to look at Noelle. Expecting her to do something. Expecting her to save them all.
A weird prickling numbness started at the tips of her fingers, shooting up her knuckles to her hands. What the hell was that? Her hands became heavy and useless. Like they'd turned to granite.
"Me? Don't you thin
k that the Great White Savior thing is super racist?" she asked. "Shouldn't the legendary hero of Askar be from Askar?"
"We know little of Inaya Al Hurra." Faridah instantly went from storyteller to a more scholarly mode. "But we do know she was not from Askar."
"That is true. She sailed her on her fast ship," Suzette agreed. "She could well have been white herself. Or Chinese or Indian or African. Any race, in fact."
"The name, though." Noelle didn't feel like giving this one up. "It's an Arabic name."
"That is true, but she could have taken a new name when she married our prince. To avoid all the people she stole from," Faridah confirmed. "And after she sailed away, Inaya Al Hurra's daughter must have married a European man."
"I don't think--"
Suzette placed her hand on Noelle's. "We forgive you for being white."
The sea of faces around her began to nod in agreement.
She wasn't going to win this one. She might as well give up.
"Er, thanks, I guess?" Noelle couldn't help her words from becoming a question. Her eyes had started to hurt from not rolling. Just because she had a joke tiara and had jumped out a window did not make her a reincarnated pirate princess from a story that probably wasn't even true.
"To this day," Faridah said, "you can see the design on the floor of the tower, where the prince marked the location of his first meeting with Inaya Al Hurra."
X marks the spot, Bonnie said.
Shhhh, Noelle ordered. She was still back on "Askar's time of greatest need." "What's going on in Askar? I don't see any major disaster coming."
"You are here," Suzette stated. "That means it is true. You will find the Palm and save Askar from a terrible fate."
So it's true because I'm here and I'm here because it's true... She didn't bother pointing out the circular logic.
"Already you are in love with Prince Walid."
"I am?" she asked.
"Why else would you stay behind after your parents had gone?" Suzette asked, rhetorically. "He is the best of men and has never brought a mistress to the palace or permitted a woman to stay without an escort."
Because he wants to squeeze money from my father and it will never work, she didn't say. Sounded like these guys were pretty much Team Walid all the way.
"Whatever help you need, we can provide," Faridah enthused. "As the kitchen women did for Inaya Al Hurra. Ask us for anything and we will see to it."
Allies, whispered Bonnie.
Exactly what I was thinking, agreed Noelle.
They can help us find the treasure.
Nope, not what I was thinking. More like helping us get out of this place.
Uh, they're never going to do that. They want us to stay here and help this Walid dude. No, we have to find the treasure.
Why would we do that instead of escaping?
Because we're pirates. Duh.
Oh, those words had gotten her into so much trouble when she was a kid. "Because I'm a pirate" had been the reason for Angelique's cat getting chased up a tree at sword point. It had been the reason she'd buried a Ming vase in the backyard. And the reason the drapes had come out of the wall. Turned out they weren't sturdy enough to swing on when you jumped off the couch.
She had a bad feeling those words would mean trouble again now.
Let's play along for now. See what happens, she told Bonnie.
"There is something you can do for me," Noelle said. "After I take a shower and change into some better clothes."
"We can brew up some poison, just like that." Faridah snapped her fingers.
I like her, Bonnie said.
Noelle ignored both of them. "Can you take me to this tower?"
We going over the side again?
Nope, just reconnaissance. It'll give us the perfect bird's-eye view.
I'm in. Let's do it.
As the kitchen women agreed, Noelle's heart jumped inside her. There was just something about that tower...
*****
After her jog, the winding stairs were an extra workout. Her quads were going to kill in the morning.
Faridah chattered straight through the climb, pointing out the places where this or that historical event happened. With a special emphasis on Inaya Al Hurra, of course.
The irony was, of the two of them, Noelle would have pegged Faridah for the princess. That head-to-toe pink had a definite Disney vibe. If she'd burst into "A Whole New World," Noelle wouldn't have batted an eyelash.
Then they came to a small landing with plain doorway. Nothing special about it. Just a wooden plank of a door, ordinary in every way, except for being worn and old. Centuries old.
But if the door was nothing unique, why was her pulse beating like an '80s hair-band drummer on crack?
"And now," Faridah said, building up drama by pausing with her hand on the iron door pull, "what you most wish to see."
Heart threatening to choke her, Noelle stepped into the room and saw...
Sheikh Walid.
He faced away from the door, sitting cross-legged on a padded, but plain woven mat. No intricate carpets here. The curved stone walls of the circular room had no adornments. Pretty much a prison cell, like in Faridah's story.
He turned at the noise behind him, looking over his shoulder. Those amber-rimmed eyes scanned Faridah and herself and instantly zoned in on her as if the kitchen maid wasn't there. One black eyebrow lifted as one corner of his mouth tightened.
"Leave," he ordered Faridah, who disappeared instantly, the traitor.
Implicit in the word was an order for Noelle to stay.
Oh yeah. Her morning's work came flooding back to her. The body-hugging workout gear. The "important" guest who didn't look happy. The opposite of happy, in fact.
Focus, girl. She tried to summon some bluster from deep inside. She had the right to wear what she wanted, to do what she wanted. He'd said to treat the place like her home. That was what she'd done, just the same as she would do back in San Fran.
And if she'd messed up something important, that was great, right? Revenge. Or something.
"Praying, Sheikh Walid?" She hadn't figured him for the spiritual sort, but you never knew. The call to prayer filled the air five times a day here, blasted from ancient mosque minarets by high-tech loudspeakers. She didn't mind, except for the ridiculously early sunrise one. In front of his carpet, a diamond-shaped design on the floor pointed toward the one window. She did a quick mental calculation. Southwest. Sort of, but not quite, toward Mecca.
"Meditating," he answered, rising to his feet and managing to do it in a regal way. "I am not a religious man."
"Sorry for interrupting," she offered. Oh yeah, she was supposed to not care about that. "I'll just go."
"You will not."
She shrugged. "It was worth a try."
"What possessed you to run around my palace with clothing that looked as if it had been painted on your body? The looks you were getting from the guards alone."
"You told me to treat this place like home," she reminded him. "So I did."
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, as if fighting a headache. "I also told you to behave in a reasonable manner. You do not run around naked in a Middle Eastern nation."
"I was fully dressed. More covered than I was at dinner the other night." True enough. The sequined couture gown had left her shoulders bare.
"In private," he stressed. "Where no other men could see you."
"That's a weird thing to say. Why would you care if other men saw me?"
He dodged the question. "The deal with Sheikh Al Khalili fell through because of your actions."
"Oh." The word sorry was once again on her lips. She bit it back. To tell the truth, he wasn't raising his voice. He hadn't lead with that bit of info either. He seemed more interested in this other guys not seeing her thing. "You don't actually seem unhappy about that."
He gave an ever-so-slight nod. "My moment of anger has passed. And I dislike pretense. Lying."
Hmmm. Hat
ed lying? Maybe that was why he kept falling for her deceptions--he couldn't recognize a liar when he saw one.
"Had the deal proceeded," he continued, "I would have had to appear more conservative than I am. So perhaps this is for the best."
Good, she swallowed back. Because you look so much better in that buttoned-up three-piece gray suit than you did in that robe thing.
"Okay," she said, and left it at that.
He didn't seem to be content. "Several of my most prominent advisors are women," he said, as if he cared for her opinion. "I would have had to hide this. I would find such a thing distasteful."
"Um, good to know where you stand on women's issues." Why were they even having this conversation? They weren't going to be friends or anything.
"Yes, it makes no sense to me to have 49.2 percent of your population unable to contribute to the GDP."
"I guess that's one way to think about it." She fought the smile that threatened. Only this guy could make feminism into a question of economics. Of course her human rights were a different matter...
"I will make my personal gym available to you if you wish to continue jogging."
A kind offer. No way would she take it. "Nope. You said I could do what I wanted and I'm going to. If you want to stop me, you'll have to confine me to my room."
Which he could by issuing a single order, she reminded herself. Might have been a better idea to take him up on the gym thing. But the feeling of freedom, of a cool morning breeze against her sweaty scalp. Legs and arms pumping strong and wild, like they were meant to be. That was worth fighting for.
To her surprise, he didn't inform her she was under house arrest. Or maybe room arrest? "Then perhaps you would consider running in some very loose clothing."
Hmm. He was willing to compromise. Too bad she wasn't.
"Not on your life," she told him, happily. Before he could get another argument out, she switched the topic on him. "So, my father hasn't paid up yet."
Not a question. She knew the answer.
"He assures me the payment is en route."
"The check is in the mail." If he was bad at identifying liars, he'd have a hell of a time dealing with Winston Oldrich. How long could her dad string him along? And what would he do when he realized the money wasn't coming?
Desert Sheikh vs American Princess Page 4
