Chapter 15 #3
“To put it mildly,” Rafi said with a sniff.
“They are patient—not in a good way. I do not know that they specifically intend to harm her, but I have seen this before. My cousin has a darkness in her whose patience morphs into cruelty, malice.” He drew in a long breath, his voice barely a whisper, his expression taut.
“I fear the friendship Daria offers Nouri is not one of friends—especially after seeing Aliyah snubbed by an American—but of…priest to a…lamb.”
Owen heard the word Rafi left out. The one that would promise pain and heartache.
“A sacrificial lamb.” In other words, they wouldn’t hesitate to throw Leighton under the proverbial bus.
They’d set it up and shove her into its path.
“But why separate us? They could kill two birds with one stone.” For lack of better words. “I think they already tried.”
Rafi gave a near smile. “Haven’t you figured it out? Turning her against you—it would be the ultimate coup, considering your purpose here.”
Great balls of fire! They did know the comms device had been his.
The preternatural calm Rafi possessed was unsettling. “While Nouri is considered unpure and illegitimate, she still has royal blood. If they can convince her to reject you and you fail to do your job…”
Nausea roiled through Owen.
“It would disrupt all your plans, yes? Assuming you—or she—lived that long.”
A thought struck Owen. “What would they do if they knew you were warning me?”
Concern flickered through Rafi’s eyes, no doubt wondering if Owen intended to betray his confidence. “That would be a very bad day.”
The man had sought to help Leighton. And him. He owed the guy. “They won’t learn about this from me.”
With a gentle incline of his head, Rafi strode to the far end of the bunkhouse, past twenty or more additional cots, and exited through the rear door.
Even as he turned to head out and join Leighton, Owen could not shake the ominous thought that they would not survive this trip. Most people would think the wildlife was the biggest threat here, but they hadn’t met the royal spawn of the Central Kingdom.
Sitting at the folding table, picking at the fruit, Leighton could not forget Ghalib punching Owen the night before last. That horrible crack. The thud of his body hitting the ground… The memory made her stomach churn. On top of everything else he’d endured that day—to have been punched so cruelly…
A full day of safari and touring, paired with that painful memory, put Leighton’s teeth on edge. Why had she fought so hard to stay here? Yes—to protect Ummi, but hadn’t he given her many promises that Ummi was okay?
Fear had held her captive long enough.
At the bonfire last night, even the shadows of the night could not hide the large bruise spreading over Owen’s face and jaw as he sat off to the side with other workers. It also could not hide the vow of violence in his beautiful eyes.
That scared her more than anything. What if he made good on that promise and started a fight? After all that had happened, surely he understood these people would kill them. And they’d likely do it while in the wild, then leave their bodies for the animals to feast on. Nobody would be the wiser.
“You look a little pale.” Rayan edged into her line of sight. “Something from dinner last night not agree with you?”
Yeah, try the brutality leveraged against Owen, the subtle threat to her. But she dared not speak those things. This was her life, this was what she had to do—keep the secret. Play the game. Live the lie. Pray she survived.
She’d survived for twenty-five years. But this last week with Owen had been a sweet reprieve. Showed her what life could be like. Except the lion attacks and the fleeing shooters at the village.
Rayan set a hand on her wrist.
A subtle-but-direct reminder that she was not in control, though she doubted Rayan intended it that way. It was the way of things—the al-Zahranis were in control. Always had been. The ominous dark shadow of their power had lingered over every hour of her life.
“Perhaps,” Rayan said, his kindness erstwhile yet frustrating as morning light spilled across the savanna behind him, “when we return, try a kebab or some other protein to fortify yourself. I could ask one of the workers to retrieve something if you are faint.”
“N-no. All is well.” She flashed a smile. “Besides, I’m not sure I could eat right now…” It was as good an excuse as any, because the last thing she wanted was him doting over her. “Thank you for the consideration, though.”
“Come, come!” Aliyah hooked her arm through Leighton’s. “Time to go to the next site.” With that, the princess herded Leighton toward the vehicles and all but shoved her up into the second vehicle with Rayan, Daria, and Hassan.
Her gaze found Owen’s, and she saw the frustration in his expression. Begged him not to start something. He’d think it was to protect her, defend her, but…
Truth be told, she just wasn’t worth it. She could never live with herself if he got killed because of her.
“They know…” His pained words from a few nights ago, warning her the royals knew he was trying to save her, get her away from them, echoed in her thoughts. Reinforced what she detected from Daria and Aliyah—they were trying to drive a wedge between her and Owen.
It was for the best, being separated from him, even if it angered him. At least his chance of survival increased and he could be mad to his heart’s content.
But…that wasn’t like Owen—he was stronger than bitterness. He was a wolf tracking her.
The Cruiser paused at a wildebeest watering hole.
Leighton watched as a few of the odd-faced beests lumbered over to the vehicles.
As the royals took photos with their phones, she slid her gaze to the other Cruiser—and rammed right into Owen.
An eruption of warmth rushed through her belly at the impact.
Recalled their kiss. The tender moments. His humor.
A rustling to the left drew her attention back to her own vehicle and spotted a beest nibbling Aliyah’s sleeve. “Oh, give care,” Leighton said.
Aliyah glanced down and shrieked. When she yanked her arm away, a strip of fabric tore away. The princess let out a strangled cry and huffed. “You beast! How dare you!”
As if her upset urged it, the driver pulled away from the watering hole.
Leighton settled in her seat, thoughts and heart spun to the rear—to the Cruiser that held Owen. Were the workers treating him fairly? Or was he the brunt of more ill treatment?
They drove for over an hour without sighting much of anything outside the occasional gazelle and lion—which felt entirely too soon after watching Owen nearly get shredded.
A while later, they came upon a large acacia tree whose branches were filled with lions.
There had to be a dozen cats lounging up in those branches.
So wild! They returned to camp just in time for lunch.
“Nouri.”
At Owen’s terse call, she felt her insides tighten and slowed to turn to him.
“Keep walking,” Daria hissed as she and Aliyah linked arms with her. “Do not stop.”
“Do not look at him,” Aliyah insisted with a conspiratorial giggle. “He does not deserve you. You are an al-Zahrani.”
Yet, Owen had deserved Aliyah when she sought his attention earlier in the safari? Was it wounded pride that made the princess speak ill of him now?
She allowed the princesses to herd her back toward their tent to freshen up before eating.
But she hated this—being rude to him. Guilt plagued her, worried her that he might believe her indifference real.
She silently prayed he’d understand it was an act.
It crushed her to think that he might believe her cold shoulder. Believe that she had rejected him.
“I cannot wait to get this dust and dirt off me,” Daria complained as they made their way back to their shared arrangements. “I thought this safari was supposed to be a luxury venture!”
“Ugh, me too,” Aliyah whined as they entered the tent, where servants immediately started toward them. “Every day I wash a pound of grit off me. But at least I don’t look like Mr. Apollo with that large black bruise on my face!”
Leighton startled at the way they openly mocked him.
“Hideous,” Daria sniffed as the servant stripped her out of the safari clothes and went to work refreshing her appearance. “That’s what he gets for overstepping.” Her dark, cruel eyes landed on Leighton. “You are far too good and noble for a man like that, Nouri.”
Aliyah clucked her tongue. “Yes, indeed.” As a servant swathed her down and helped her into clean clothes—why were they even bothering?
—she winked at Leighton. “I have it on good authority that my brother is talking to our cousin about a marriage offer for you…” Her trilling laugh made Leighton’s skin crawl.
As did the threat of marriage. Heart thundering, she put a hand to her throat. Rayan wanted to marry her? No…no no no. I’m going to be sick.
“Look,” Daria said as her servant secured her hair, “poor thing is overcome. She never imagined a prince would want her!”
“Of course she wouldn’t. But you do have a little royal blood,” Aliyah said, giving a pursed-lip nod. “You should not discount yourself so thoroughly, Cousin.”
Hearing them draw her into their family with their words—and snobbery—was not as satisfying as Leighton had expected it to be.
In fact, it was downright hypocritical of them.
She told herself not to react. To let them talk, think she was buying into their absurdities.
Their inane comments and existence was definitely not one she had any interest in.
“Oh,” Aliyah said excitedly. “Tomorrow we go to the Ngorongoro crater!”
“Forget the crater,” Daria sniffed. “I’m looking forward to the spa and a massage afterward.” She gave Leighton a long look. “If you would like, I could ask Maaz to put in for you to get one too.”
“What a treat that would be,” Aliyah said, nodding. “I know you’ve never had anything like it, but it would do you good to get those knots out of your thick shoulders. It helps, I promise.”
Thick shoulders? Was it possible these princesses didn’t know they were being insulting? She sincerely doubted it. They talked about blood, that she had their blood, but they didn’t have blood in their veins—they had venom.
Regardless, Leighton had to play nice. Bide her time. Bite her tongue. As always.
They were soon back out with the others and went straight to the food table.
Stomach rumbling, she was anxious for one of those kebabs.
Even as she waited for the princesses to fill their plates first, Leighton swept her gaze around the others.
Searching, she realized, for a familiar pair of blue eyes. Where was he?
“Balloons, six p.m.” Owen’s warm words skated along her neck.
By the time she twitched and turned, he was already moving away. What had he said? Balloons? What was he talking about?
“You are well?”
Leighton yipped and spun to the new voice—Rayan. “Oh. Hi.” Embarrassment flooded her at finding him beside her and arching a rueful eyebrow. Had he seen her staring after Owen—or worse, had he heard Owen issue the hushed words?
Rayan’s expression softened as he gazed at her, and he clearly believed the color in her cheeks was because of him. Wholly wrong, but she must allow him that misconception. He smiled and ran his knuckles along her jaw. “Even after a safari, you are beautiful.”
No, that was too far. She stepped back and ducked. Mentally heard Owen railing about her looking down, which made her smile. Then she cursed herself, because no doubt Rayan would take her smile as being meant for him.
“Rayan,” Prince Maaz chided with a warning tone and disapproving look.
Suddenly, Leighton had a deep appreciation for the strict rules of conduct that had driven her crazy before.
The princesses had taken their food to the tables, so Leighton moved forward, picked up a plate and grabbed a kebab, bread, and more fruit. She navigated to a table, her mind ricocheting back to Owen’s hushed instructions—balloons, six p.m.
Why would he want her to meet him there? More importantly, how was she supposed to get away from Rayan or the princesses?