Epilogue
His life really was a succession of anniversaries.
And even if it was nine months to the day since he’d escaped, there were other dates on the calendar of his life now.
In a few moments she would be a whole day old.
Princess Sahar of Al-Zahir lay in her little Perspex crib.
Not a care in the world.
As it should be.
And for as long as he could, that would remain.
The king and queen had been in yesterday, to meet their brand-new granddaughter, and they were trying to sort out the edicts so she would one day be queen.
Rafiq did not even want to think about that!
Liliana’s mother was enjoying her stay at the palace.
Very much!
The King of Al-Nawar was too weak to visit. But Princess Yara, to show both countries there was no hard feelings, would be visiting later today.
But right now, it was the lovely quiet of dawn.
She had soft black hair and blue eyes, ten fingers and ten toes and they were both enchanted.
Sahar.
It meant new dawn or sunrise, as it had been when she’d been born…
It was sunrise now. This very modern prince had, the news had reported, stayed at the hospital overnight.
The people were thrilled to see their crown prince happy again and restored to his charming self.
‘What are you doing?’ Liliana asked sleepily as he wandered around the royal suite, reading cards, picking up pink teddies, sort of pacing.
‘Waiting for her to wake up,’ he said. ‘Go back to sleep.’
Instead, she looked over to the crib and saw Sahar stirring a little, her hand peeking out from the wrap.
She knew what this day was.
They had even half joked that she might come on the anniversary of his escape, but she was quietly pleased she hadn’t. This day, for Rafiq, was, despite what everyone thought, a difficult one.
How it could have ended still flashed through his mind.
‘I can’t believe she’s here,’ Liliana sighed, waking up to the sight of her baby, and her little snub nose and rosebud mouth.
It had been a gorgeous birth.
Quiet and calm and the midwife used to be a hurdle champion, of all things.
Only Rafiq didn’t answer, and she realised he’d stopped pacing.
She rolled over and he stood, very still, holding a little doll, reading a card, yet she could not read the expression on his face.
‘What is it?’ Liliana asked and he turned and looked at her.
‘“Lur da kur jannat da…”’ Rafiq, said then translated. ‘“A daughter is the paradise of the home. With blessings from my happy family to yours.” It’s unsigned.’ He looked over and explained what the card meant. ‘It’s from Balach…’
That card meant so much, she knew.
Liliana sat up in bed as he came over, and putting the little dolly in the crib he picked up Sahar and gazed at her for a very long time.
‘I can’t believe she’s here either,’ Rafiq said, then looked up at her. ‘Or you.’
‘Well, I am.’ Liliana smiled, though she knew what he meant. She had to pinch herself at times to believe he was near.
He climbed on the bed, balancing their baby with ease, and stretched out beside her.
Their baby between them watching a desert sunrise.
The sky painted pink as if for them.
‘Pink can be problem—’ she started.
‘No,’ Rafiq said. ‘Pink is perfect.’
He would not have it any other way.