Noelle shrugged. "I know. Suzette told me."
"If you know, then what are you doing here? What do you imagine you will find?"
She rolled her eyes. "I told you. We're going to find the Palm of Askar. But we're not going to dig it up."
He opened his mouth to object, but before he could, she continued.
"Walid, we're not going to dig it up." She pointed to the top of the massive palm. "We're going to bring it down."
*****
"You," said Walid, "are not going up there."
You're not the boss of us, pouted Bonnie. He's not the boss of us, Noelle. We can do what we want. Tell him. You tell him!
Noelle's mouth went dry. Well, drier than it already was in this desert outpost.
It would take three people with their arms extended to circle the base of the tree. The wide green fronds hung over two hundred feet above their heads. Her inner eleven-year-old was dying to grab the equipment sitting nearby and scramble up, thumbing her nose at gravity.
But even a pirate princess had to acknowledge her limitations.
Bonnie, this isn't the backyard maple from back home, she told her friend. It's time to be the captain, not a bilge rat. There are people around here who climb trees for a living. Not to mention that this tree is sacred to them. We need to respect that.
You're just like your dad. You don't want us to have any fun.
Stop it. Today is about the jewel and that's final, she ordered her friend.
"Of course I'm not climbing the tree," Noelle told Walid, as if there hadn't ever been any question. "What an idea. Someone with the skills will do that."
The major industry of Agatir was date farming. The crop had originally been a huge contributor to caravans being able to travel the Silk Road. Dried dates were easy to carry and held a lot of food energy. They didn't require any water to be edible--they could be eaten as they were.
The industry had survived. Of course, now the dates were dried, packed in plastic, and shipped to North America and China on ships, not by camel.
Many of the inhabitants of Agatir were involved in the harvest for the local date factory. They made their living climbing palms to collect the fruit that hung from stalks just under the leaves, far at the top of the trees. A lot of the dates were harvested using modern machines--forklifts with buckets on them or the vehicles known as "cherry pickers." But there were still--and would probably always be--people who could run a leather strap or rope around the tree and climb up by just holding the rope tight, leaning back, and essentially walking up.
Which someone would have to do now, since there wasn't a forklift in the country that could get anyone up two hundred feet.
The jewel was up there, she knew. Hiding in the leaves, safe since 1941.
With Walid's wrath defused, Noelle noticed that Suzette's family had inched toward the base of the tree, while keeping a respectful distance from their king. They weren't alone. Dozens of oasis natives had shown up and milled around, excited and curious about the sudden excitement in their small town. In addition to the inhabitants of the oasis and Suzette's nieces and nephews, now Walid's security detail (which had arrived a few minutes behind him) had joined in the gathering.
Walid scanned the crowd. She watched his attention settle on one guy, a man in his forties with the shoulder muscles of a construction worker.
"Him," Walid said. "He will go."
"Nope. I've already picked. Salima?" She called for the girl, who stepped out from behind a 4x4 and dropped a pretty decent curtsey to her king.
Salima was a tiny thing, a wiry fourteen-year-old with dark skin that came partly from her genetics and partly from spending her days exposed to constant sun. Sun that had begun to sink, throwing a red glow over the scene.
The faded denim skirt that fell to Salima's ankles would have hung loose around her flat belly if she hadn't cinched it with a thick belt that looked like it would give way at any second. The enormous man's shirt she wore blew in the slight breeze.
"Salima's going to climb for us," she told Walid.
His objections telegraphed straight into her mind. She's too young. The older man has already lived much of his life and if he falls, it is less guilt. He has more experience and is less likely to fall in any case. You have only picked this inappropriate person because she's a woman and you cannot climb yourself.
No one climbs this tree, she shot back mutely. It's sacred. The person who does it will be respected in this community for the rest of her life. Salima is an orphan who is rejected and bullied by the other factory workers, and this is a chance to make her life better. And yes, she's female and young and I can't go up.
They both knew he could overrule her if he chose. He was king, and she couldn't argue with him in front of his people if he decided to assert himself. She was betting it was on the tip of his tongue to enforce his will.
A foot away, Salima was still curtseying, waiting for her ruler to give her the nod to stand up.
Noelle could practically hear Walid's teeth grinding. They were still gritted when he spoke again. "Very well."
When Salima rose, she wore the brightest smile Noelle had ever seen. Without hesitation, as if she was terrified someone would change his mind, she sprinted to the base of the tree, tucked the hem of her skirt into that questionable belt to reveal muscled calves, and was ten feet up the tree before Noelle could tell her they'd do the climb in the morning.
"Uh, okay," she said, to the girl's fast-disappearing butt.
That could be us.
It really couldn't be, Noelle told her friend.
"Is all of this your pirate princess' idea?" Walid glanced up at the tiny girl climbing the tree, then away. In case someone thought he was admiring what he saw, she imagined.
Was it? "I guess so."
Walid stepped away from the crowd gathered at the base of the palm. These were his people, she realized, but as their king, he had to maintain a certain distance.
She felt herself being drawn away, toward him. Salima would be back down after her search. Nothing Noelle could do would bring her down faster. Besides, the pull toward Walid wasn't something she could resist. She moved over to walk beside him in relative privacy.
"You could have come to me," he told her. "I would have arranged all this for you. You did not have to sneak out of my palace behind my back."
"I did come to you. To your office, three days ago. Ring a bell?"
A muscle in his face twitched. "I do recall. Something interrupted us before I asked why you had come to see me."
You arranging your marriage, she didn't say. "How did you know I came here? I can't believe one of Suzette's relatives told you."
Walid's jaw clenched for a moment. With anyone else, she would have thought he was trying to decide on a lie. "I appear to have a mental link to you. Whenever you leave a certain perimeter around me, I feel it with some sort of sixth sense that forces me to follow you. No one told me where you were. I simply understood it."
She rolled her eyes at him. "If you're trying to practice lying, keep at it. That really sucked."
They walked for a few steps in silence. The sunset was amazing in the desert. No clouds to get in the way. A full canvas of sky painted with deep crimsons and oranges so brilliant Noelle hardly believed she was seeing them, all on a backdrop of crystal blue deepening to darkest midnight.
"I regret that you met the Farouks that way." Walid didn't look at her. "That was not my intention. I do not know that I had any intention."
"Why are you marrying her? She said it was for money. Is that true?"
He didn't answer. As good as an admission of guilt.
"You kidnapped me for money. You sold your cars for money. You're marrying her for money. Why do you need money so badly?"
"Noelle, this is not your problem. Try not to worry about it."
"Yeah," she said. "Okay."
But inside, she held back a grin. Money wasn't going to be a problem for him anymore. Without a comput
er, she'd been unable to do any research, but she'd asked Suzette, who had set one of her nephews on the task. On the trip here, he'd handed her a dozen or so pages folded together. All about green diamonds, including a black-and-white photo of the Palm from before the war.
It had been worth an estimated twenty-five million dollars when it disappeared. Now, inflation would have doubled that at least, plus spending nearly seventy years in a tree, a lost legend, would make it one of the most valuable jewels on the planet.
Shame to sell the diamond, but she had faith that Walid wouldn't even think of it, unless the future of the country depended on the money.
And then Walid could un-plan his engagement with Kalilah.
"Have you heard from my dad at all?" she asked him, knowing the answer. "That wire transfer come through?"
"I am afraid not. But you will soon be free to go, one way or another."
Yup, she would be. She nearly giggled.
"When I become engaged to Kalilah, I will see that you get on a plane to the United States."
"Sure, sure," she agreed. "Sounds fine. When I get back I'll see if I can get you your money from dad. But don't hold your breath. He doesn't pay much attention to me."
"What else will you do when you return?"
"Good question. The same stuff, I suppose." Although she would be famous for finding Askar's crown jewel. If she could ask a decent amount of money for interviews, she could get a little nest egg that could help her get out from under her dad's control. Maybe. Or maybe she could get a book deal about her experiences in Askar. Sure, she'd have to fib about her real relationship with Walid and the circumstances around how she got here, but she could just make it up. Wouldn't be that hard. Anyone could write this stuff, after all.
She snuck a peek at Walid, walking beside her. She wasn't any less obsessed with his ass than she'd been before they'd slept together. Maybe more so.
But she'd gotten to know him over the past weeks, too. She cared for him, she had to admit to herself. She wanted him to be happy, and Kalilah was not going to do it. She hoped he recognized that, at least.
He needed someone who was a match for him, who wouldn't put up with his shit. Someone as smart as him, who could challenge his thinking, but who had an emotional touch to her, who could help him open up a bit. Maybe even get him to ask for help every once in a while.
Someone who could get him to be a bit goofy every once in a while.
Something caught in her throat. A speck of dust.
The woman she wanted for him was like herself, except... better. Better in every way. Noelle could handle herself in his world, but he needed someone who could help him by being effective on her own, not someone who failed at everything she tried.
They'd been so good together in bed. They'd driven away each other's darkness, made a space to let in happiness and fun. Just because it hadn't been serious didn't mean it hadn't been serious. Did he get that? Probably not.
If only she didn't suck so much at, well, life. If she thought she was even slightly worthy of him, she would grab on to him like a facehugger from Alien and never let him go.
The idea of him taking Kalilah to bed, or any other woman, made her muscles tense, made her want to bitch-slap the chick like a demented housewife on a reality show.
His stubbled profile caught her eye. Mine, she wanted to say to any woman who thought she could come near him. Mine mine mine.
She swallowed past a mountain of a lump in her throat and crossed her arms over her chest to keep her hands safely held down. She cared about him, wanted him, admired everything he'd accomplished with Askar. His dedication to his people. His determination. His wisdom--except when it came to Kalilah.
Noelle wasn't worthy of him, though. She hadn't been able to finish school, to get a job, or accomplish anything. She wasn't the girl he needed, even if she'd been, for one night, the girl he wanted.
"Noelle," he said, his voice tinged with pain--
And a cry soared up from the base of the tree.
They turned to each other. "Salima," Noelle said, and she took off running.
He must have kept up, because when she arrived, pushing her way through the crowd, he was right behind her.
The young woman was three-quarters of the way down the tree. Around her chest was a stained fabric sling, the kind that might hold a dozen date fronds.
The sling looked empty. Or like it held only one thing.
The treasure, Bonnie. She's got it, Noelle thought at her friend.
But the pirate princess didn't answer. Didn't even seem interested.
Salima scrambled down, the push of people around her clearing a little space for her to step into.
But when the young woman turned, Noelle's heart clenched. Salima had her bottom lip between her teeth.
It's a trick, she assured herself. She's pretending she didn't find the jewel, and then she's going to pull it out and everything will be fine.
Noelle stepped up to Salima, Walid right behind. Suzette shoved her way through the people to stand at Noelle's shoulder and act as translator.
But Noelle didn't need to ask anything. Salima's bitten lip and deeply terrified expression said everything she needed to know.
"Noelle." Walid's voice was filled with a warm blanket of concern. She shrugged it off.
"Salima, you are awesome." Had she put the right amount of enthusiasm in her tone or was she laying it on too thick? She couldn't tell if it was too much, if she was pushing too far past her own failure. "Okay, so we didn't find the jewel. But you just climbed the tallest palm in Askar. I think that makes you the best date harvester in the whole country."
As Noelle spoke, Suzette repeated her words, but in Arabic, and in her gruff monotone. Noelle could tell when each one sank in. Salima stood an inch taller by the end of each sentence. Her tightness uncoiled, her chest puffed.
This was the best day of this young girl's life. The opposite of Noelle's.
"I can't thank you enough, Salima. You did a fantastic job."
Walid followed her praise with some words of his own, in Arabic. A question, apparently, since the girl spoke in response, blushing and stammering.
Then Walid addressed the crowd, telling them something she couldn't understand. After that, the people cut out, slowly, in little clusters, burbling to each other in excitement.
"I have informed them I will meet with the town elders shortly," Walid told her. "I am here, and the opportunity is convenient. It will be too late to go back to Deira tonight. We will stay here."
"Stay where?" She hadn't seen a hotel on the way into town. Would people take them into their homes?
Walid nodded over his shoulder.
She looked, and incredibly, a small village of tents had popped up. One of them was as big as the coffee shop she went to in San Fran. Suzette's relatives made themselves busy, pulling pillows and rugs from trunks that looked way too small to actually hold so much stuff.
Suzette herself was presiding over a decent-sized fire, directing a scared young man who probably had his arms covered in flour for the first time in his life. The cook looked over her shoulder and scowled at two middle-aged guys who seemed to be doing nothing but chatting to each other. They instantly walked off in two different directions, full of purpose.
A camp had sprung up around them. Noelle tried to focus her attention on the tasks going on to distract herself from yet another failure. It was fascinating, the modern incarnation of a nomadic culture. Instead of camels, Toyotas; instead of navigation by the stars, GPS on cell phones. But the effect was the same--the camp didn't look like some temporary overnight place. It looked like a cozy home. Just one that moved around a lot.
It had all happened because of her. Because of her stupid idea that she could find the stupid jewel.
She'd sent an underage kid scrambling up a palm tree, for God's sake. Salima could have died. Of course she was a hero now, but that was beside the point. If she'd fallen, it would have been a ridiculous waste of li
fe because one stupid white chick thought she knew better than people who'd lived in Askar forever.
She should have gone herself. Should have taken the risk herself.
"Noelle." Walid's voice broke into her thoughts. "It was a good idea. It might have been true. Perhaps that was where the Palm was found, by someone else."
She sighed. "You're getting better at lying."
"I am not lying," he insisted, and she sort of believed him. "I have something for you. From Salima."
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "That girl is poor and shouldn't be giving me anything. Plus I almost got her killed."
"As you know," Walid continued, "no one has climbed this tree for fifty years. Some call it sacred. It is certainly protected."
Which was why it was extra stupid to send someone up there, she didn't point out.
"Which is why this is almost as valuable as a jewel." Walid extended his hand.
In the center of his palm lay a single piece of rich brown fruit. The date, dried in the sun on the tree, was the length of Noelle's thumb, and fatter than any date she'd ever seen. The skin on Walid's palm was sticky with sugary goo that had come off it.
Not just a date. A freaking sacred date. One Salima had risked her life for, and not even gotten to eat herself.
Noelle's father had given her cars, clothes, diamonds. He'd given her trips to the most exotic places on earth. She'd eaten in the most expensive restaurants in the world, and never even thought about the thousand-dollar check.
But this one piece of fruit? Her entire skin went frigid at the idea of eating something that had nearly cost so much. Noelle had never felt so unworthy of anything in her life.
"You eat it," Noelle told him, and walked away in the darkening evening.
*****
Noelle kept herself from curling up into a little ball and sobbing, but just barely. Thank God for the cool darkness of her tent, and for the privacy.
The sun had fully set, and outside the stars pushed white light through the thick layer of black. A half-moon showed a brilliant, clear face, as if it were millions of miles closer. Or hundreds of thousands? How far was the moon from the earth? If she had her cell phone, she'd look it up. If they got service out here.
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