Desert Sheikh vs American Princess

by Teresa Morgan

  Despite the full-on dark, it was early. Maybe nine or so. There was a long night to get through. Outside, the villagers had set up a bonfire for their guests and were showing off their hospitality. The sounds of drums, clapping, and songs leaked through the fabric walls of her huge tent.

  The word "tent" was a major understatement. She'd stayed in smaller hotel suites--and her father owned the freaking hotels. She could easily stand up in it, could do some jumping jacks if she felt like it.

  In one corner was a low table with cushions on the floor--was it called a floor in a tent? Suzette had entered without knocking to deliver a huge plate of yellow rice with flecks of spices, with some meat in a red sauce that Noelle had to admit smelled delicious, objectively speaking. But her appetite had taken a day off.

  There was an area for her to change her clothes, behind a screen. She hadn't bothered with it, because who exactly was supposed to be on the other side of the screen? She'd just thrown on her silk pajamas and tossed her khakis on the floor.

  A large metal basin of water sat in a wooden stand in another corner. To wash herself, probably.

  The tent had everything but what she really wanted. A treadmill. She'd been warned that the countryside was a much more conservative area than Deira. She'd shock everyone if she threw on her gear and went for a sprint, but if she had a treadmill? That she could do.

  If she couldn't run, at least she could be alone. She could sit here, cross-legged, in the dark, on a pile of pillows that was probably supposed to be her bed later, and she didn't have to see anyone. Didn't have to put up with anyone trying to cheer her up.

  To sit here and feel sorry for yourself? Bonnie asked, and Noelle heard the wrinkled forehead of contempt in the kid's tone.

  What else do you want me to do? That was all I had.

  Pfft. The voice in her head was really good at that scorn thing. That is not all you have. You have a million different things. Pick one.

  "I was always clear the map was a distraction."

  Bonnie--

  But before she worked up a good argument with her imaginary friend, she realized a) the voice had spoken out loud and b) the voice was pretty much the opposite of an eleven-year-old girl's.

  She looked up to see a male face looking down at her with stern sympathy.

  Walid. Of course. She'd hoped to get through this alone? Bah, why would that happen?

  "I suppose asking you to go away would get me thoroughly ignored," she said, already knowing his response.

  Walid sat, and somehow managed to look just as regal and buttoned-up on his butt in a tent as he did on a rolling chair behind a sleek desk.

  "The map was designed to distract an invading armed force. Its purpose was never to show the location of the jewel, Noelle. With the battalion concentrated on finding the Palm, Jews, Africans, homosexuals, the gypsy population, and others the Nazis considered undesirable were not rounded up to be destroyed." Walid explained it all once more, as if she didn't know it already. "And as the troops were drawn out of the city on their quest, small forces of rebels picked them off as best they could. That map saved so many lives. It saved Askar. Zallaq and Sadad did not fare so well. If the country had been united, we would have been a stronger force to be dealt with. Perhaps the German invasion would not have succeeded in the first place."

  "I know." Okay, she hadn't figured out that last part, but she really wasn't in the mood for a history lesson. And she wasn't in the mood to admire the stupid freaking map.

  Where do we look next? Bonnie asked.

  Nowhere, Noelle said. Her arms were so heavy. Her whole body, really. She just wanted to lie down and sleep for a long, long time. Maybe watch reality TV. She was good at watching TV. When you were watching TV, no one challenged you to do hard things or save them from disasters that were so vague you couldn't even identify them.

  Don't give up!

  We failed. Just admit it.

  Bonnie screwed up her invisible mouth at Noelle. So what?

  So, we failed, and Walid will marry her. The guy I care about will marry another woman for her money, and I couldn't stop it because I'm useless at everything. There. Are you happy now?

  We've failed, but we're not done. We're pirate princesses, and we can--

  Nope. We're done. I'm done. That's it, she told Bonnie.

  "This land was scoured for the jewel," Walid went on. He'd brought in a sort of a flashlight-slash-lamp. He set it on the floor, letting its fake yellow light create a circle that connected both of them. "I suspect it was found decades ago and sold on the black market. You cannot blame yourself for not finding something that was never there to find, Noelle. This is nothing like your failed attempts at employment."

  Oh, great. Now all of that came flooding back into her head, tsunami-strong. Every job she'd ever tried and screwed up. Every opportunity that not just slipped, but exploded, through her fingers. The businesses that had collapsed because of her. The friends who'd helped her and been rewarded with their lives going kablooey.

  Maybe all her defeats weren't her father's sabotage after all.

  She looked Walid straight in the eye. In the low light, the color of them flashed bronze. "Nope, it's exactly like that. And it'll end the same."

  "With you giving up your attempts."

  She put fake brightness in her tone. "Sounds good to me."

  "I have seen you jump out a window," he said, out of nowhere. "You and your pirate princess. What is her name? Thalatha did not inform me."

  "Bonnie."

  "That means 'beautiful,' I believe."

  From inside her head, she heard an exaggerated gagging noise.

  She couldn't help her lip twitching. "She hates that."

  "Then I must apologize to her. I meant no disrespect," Walid said, very seriously. "I assume the women of the kitchens told you of Askar's own pirate princess, Inaya Al Hurra."

  Something under Noelle's ribs clenched to the point of pain. This again. More pressure on her was the last thing she needed, after failing so spectacularly, so publicly. "Yes. And she's coming back to rescue Askar in its time of need."

  "But you and I know that such fairy tales do not exist. My engagement to Kalilah will solve Askar's current crisis. There is no need to resort to mysticism."

  Walid said all this offhand... but it was the first time he'd admitted that Askar had any kind of crisis, much less that his marriage would solve it. Was designed to solve it.

  "Why are you marrying her?" He winced at the M-word. "You know she's wrong for you."

  "Noelle, this is not your concern. You will be returning to your home soon and never need to think of Askar once you do."

  Two paths unfurled in front of her. Walid was right. She could walk away from all of this, never spend another second on it. Or she could push. Find out what was wrong, and then... not be able to do anything about it because she was so useless.

  Actually, she had to admit, there wasn't any choice at all.

  "Walid, I won't think about Askar when I'm gone. I'll think about you."

  As she spoke, her hand crawled toward his. About an inch before they touched, he reached out, grabbing her hand and enveloping it in his own. He held her fingers so tight they nearly started hurting.

  He cared about her. More than he could afford to admit, she realized. Just as much as she cared about him.

  Perhaps loved him. They connected like no one else she'd ever met. They matched each other, challenged each other.

  Too bad she was so damned useless that she couldn't even solve this one little problem.

  "The state Askar is in." Walid stared at their combined hands as if he could not bear to lift his head. "I am responsible, not my father."

  "I don't believe that for a second. But before we get to that, you're going to have to tell me what state Askar is in. I know it has to do with needing money, but you're an oil country. Does it have to do with the price of oil? But you would have put money away anticipating that, I know you could have. Spill. W
hat's going on?"

  He sighed so hard his shoulders shook. "I have told no one this. I know I can trust you to keep this a secret from everyone. Especially Ithnan."

  "I don't even know your brother," she reminded him.

  "It is the pipeline. As things are, Askar cannot pay for its share of the costs, and I am responsible."

  Askar was broke? She'd known he needed money, but didn't know it was that bad. "The kitchen staff told me that you've been a great king, much better than your father. They said you're great, really on top of things. They think you're amazing."

  "My father." He scoffed. "I saw the world through his tainted view. I let emotion overrule my logic. During his reign, after my brother ascended to the throne of Zallaq, my father pursued a policy of aggression toward the country."

  "Ithnan. Was he being threatening?"

  "It appeared so for a time," Walid admitted. "A neighboring country, called Hidd, attacked Zallaq, hoping to take advantage of the confusion when the previous ruler passed to gain territory. My brother is many things, but he is rarely confused. Hidd is now a province of Zallaq, and much happier for it."

  "Okay, but did he stop with Hidd?"

  Walid nodded. "My father did not see things so clearly as you do. You see, Ithnan was not supposed to rule Zallaq. It was a surprise to my father that his relative left the country to Ithnan."

  "So who was supposed--" she began. Walid's head shot up. "You? You were supposed to be the King of Zallaq too?"

  "Zallaq and Sadad were both provinces of Askar at one time. I was to reunite the three kingdoms. So you see, you are not the only one who fails at their purpose."

  She squeezed his hand. "Sounds like it worked out okay."

  "My father did not see it that way. He ordered Ithnan to hand over the kingdom to Askar. To me."

  "If Ithnan is anything like you, that would not have gone well."

  "As you say." Walid didn't out-and-out admit that his brother was like him, but she didn't have any trouble imagining that he was. "So my father began to threaten. However, due to my brother's successful campaign, Zallaq absorbed a significant arsenal from Hidd."

  "So your father couldn't do anything," she said. "Right."

  "But he could do something." Walid smoothed a wrinkle in the pillow that sat beside him. "He began to acquire military weaponry and install it at the border with Zallaq, in an unsubtle threat to invade."

  "Your brother couldn't have taken that very well."

  "He responded with the only option he had at the time, by building up his own military," Walid explained. "When my father increased spending, so did Ithnan."

  "Wow, that's incredibly dysfunctional. An idiotic pissing contest, with people's lives at stake."

  The corner of Walid's mouth tipped up in a dry smile. "You sound like my sister-in-law. For some reason, I feel the two of you would get along very well."

  "She sounds like a smart chick. Was your brother really going to attack? Maybe it was more than a pissing contest."

  Walid shook his head. "More likely that my father would have, which I did not recognize at the time. I was overconfident that I was the one who would return Zallaq and Sadad to Askar, as it should be. I felt Walid should see reason and return Zallaq to Askari rule, giving up his claims. So I watched my father spend hundreds of millions building arms against his own son. The tax base could not justify such a thing, nor sustain it. When the treasury was empty, my father seized the oil interests of private companies to fund the military."

  "Damn. Was that why?" Her dad had mentioned something like that happening under Walid's father. What a useless waste. Not only were tax dollars funneled off from actual worthy causes like education and infrastructure, taking private companies' assets would hurt development in the future and turn some very rich Askari folks against their own government. She imagined how her dad would respond to something like that. Not well. And very publicly.

  "Damn indeed," he agreed. "And it was my idea."

  She blinked at him, not believing that such a dumb plan had come out of his brain.

  He must have sensed her thoughts. "I did not understand how desperate my father was for funding. I was not serious when I suggested seizing private companies for the profit of the state. I merely stated the idea as a way to initiate better ideas."

  "Brainstorming, I think it's called." There'd been one or two brainstorming sessions in the businesses she'd been involved with. None of them had ended up saving those companies, though.

  "Brainstorming," he repeated. "I wish my brain had not even rained at that time, much less stormed."

  "You can't be responsible for something your father did, Walid. It's not your fault." She squeezed his hand. He was taking this insanely hard. How could he blame himself for what his dad did when his dad was king at the time?

  "Where does my dad come into this story?" She rolled her eyes, dumping sarcasm into her tone. "So, we were at an arms buildup and the companies are now public instead of private. What then?"

  "Almost two years ago, my father died, of a sudden heart attack. On my ascension to the throne, I learned the true extent of the seizure of the oil companies. I thought he had taken some minor holdings. That was not so."

  "Wait, wait." She raised a hand to get him to pause. "So you didn't even know about the whole oil company thing until you became king. I really don't see how you can blame yourself for this, Walid."

  "I should have known earlier. It was remarkable that my father was able to keep the seizures out of the public eye, but I was closest to him. I should have known."

  Okay, she just really wanted to shake some sense into the guy. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he see his father had pulled the crude-soaked wool over everyone's eyes? Then again, this was Walid. If he felt something, there was a reason for it. Maybe she should just get the rest of the tale out of him before she started to tell him he was an idiot.

  "So, you become king. You've got a massive debt to face, a very tense situation with a potentially hostile country, and in the middle of that you're supposed to run these corporations that you really shouldn't be running." She cocked her head at him. "I know you didn't want these companies, but why didn't you stop spending on the military and keep the profits for a while?"

  He looked at her like she had lost her mind. "Those companies did not belong to the government. It was not right to keep them, or to take even one dollar from them. Except for taxes, naturally."

  He said it so simply. He didn't take the money because it wasn't his to take. Her heart went a little squishy. No excuses. That was her Walid.

  Well, not her Walid. Askar's Walid. Soon to be Kalilah's.

  "And in the meantime, you loaned my father a ton of money."

  "Yes, to build a hotel in Deira. I imagined it as a way to generate much-needed revenue and employment. The pipeline was not yet in planning." His proud shoulders sank an inch. "The hotel did not materialize. Your father did not fulfill his commitment. I took him at his word."

  "That's your mistake." The words came out before she could stop them. And they hit their mark. Walid winced.

  "I'm sorry," she quickly countered. "It's not your fault. My dad is like that. He makes you want to believe him, then he smacks you down, but you don't even realize it until a lot later. It happened to me over and over, and I'm his daughter."

  "But you were correct the first time. I bear the responsibility," Walid said.

  "Nope." She squeezed his hand. "If someone doesn't keep their promise, it's their fault, not yours. And I think you know that."

  "I should have recognized his tendencies before I invested. I should have done more research. This situation could have been avoided if I had spoken to you." The smile Walid gave her was flat as room temperature water. "My father had just passed away. I believe your father reminded me of my own. Which should have been my first warning sign. My father was not..."

  His words seemed to give out. The sentence died a lingering death on his lips.

  "
He wasn't a lot of things, I understand. Thale may have mentioned some stuff," she explained. "Put unrealistic expectations on you and shipped Ithnan to another country, where he was basically abused, but Thale didn't mention his own relationship with your dad."

  "That may be because our father barely acknowledged that Thalatha existed." Walid shrugged, while still somehow managing to look regal. "He left my youngest brother to his own devices from the time Thalatha's mother left him for another man. My father saw Thalatha as expendable. He had me as his heir, and if anything happened to me, then Ithnan could take my place. He did not envision that anything would happen to take both of us out of the succession. As a boy, Thalatha received few opportunities for education. No guidance. No direction."

  While she would love to know more about Thalatha, she wasn't going to waste Walid's talking mood on it. Time to get back to the real inquiry. "And you got too much of all of those things."

  "As the heir, the expectations on me were clear. When I came to the throne, I was to rule as if I was my father, making all the decisions I would face as if I were him. Most importantly, I was to reunify Askar with Zallaq and Sadad."

  "Yeah," she said. "I don't quite get that part. They were all one country once?"

  He nodded. "Zallaq and Sadad were provinces of Askar. The country was divided by a king who wished each of his sons to inherit. For the purposes of defense and trading, it would be well if the country were reunified. I have failed in this task."

  "If your brother is like you, Zallaq is in good hands. He wouldn't give up the country without a fight."

  If your brother is like you... What? Why did those words stick in her head? And it wasn't Bonnie either, it was her own mental voice repeating them. Hadn't she said them earlier in this conversation, too? She hadn't met Ithnan, but the idea of someone being like Walid wheeled around in her mind, spinning and getting nowhere.

  "Rest assured, Noelle. No one will die for my father's wishes. He caused too much pain in his lifetime. No more."