Chapter 16 #2
Refusing to meet the prince’s gaze, she held on to one side and moved to step over the small lip when a hand slid into view. Her heart skidded into her throat as she met Rayan’s gaze and forced herself to take the proffered help.
Remember, nothing’s wrong. Just out for a ride. “Thank you.” As she stepped out, she felt him close in and held her breath.
“Very foolish, Nouri,” he whispered at her. “Very foolish. You have angered Maaz.”
Old, long-ingrained habits were hard to break. She looked away—and found herself facing Maaz. God, have mercy!
“What were you doing?” the crown prince barked.
Look surprised. “I…riding in the balloon?” Manufacturing a confused expression, she glanced around. “What…? I thought we were allowed. After everything, I only wanted to clear my head. Seeing the savanna was—”
“Where is he?” Ghalib demanded, his henchmen closing in. “Where’s Mr. Apollo?”
“I have no idea,” she said, very grateful his escape from the basket as they drifted over a rise meant she truly did not know. “Is he missing?”
“You weren’t with him?” Maaz asked, his expression dark. “Someone said they saw you two go up together.”
Her heart gave a start at that. Who had seen them? Rather than lie, she indicated back to the balloon basket. “If he did, where is he?”
Ghalib stomped to the pilot, who was prepping the balloon and securing the canopy. “Was this woman alone for the ride?”
Dark eyes found hers. He was young, his expression searching, scared.
Too well she understood that feeling when having the royals breathing down her neck. Please, God…protect us.
The pilot shrugged. “I tell her it not right to go up alone, but she was crying.”
Was he truly helping her? Lying for her? Whoa. They had definitely not asked him to say that.
Maaz’s gaze swung to hers. “Why were you crying?”
“Because she was falling in love with the American,” Daria crooned from her brother’s side. “I guess she understands now how weak Americans are and accepts her place with us.”
If you say so.
Weak? Owen Metcalfe was the strongest man she’d ever met. As for accepting her place, it was most definitely not among the al-Zahranis. Leighton did the most familiar thing she could summon among these royals—she looked down. Feigned deference.
A shout came from the camp, turning everyone in that direction.
Nasir stomped toward them, hand clamped around Owen’s arm. “He is here!”
Maaz stormed in that direction. “Where have you been?”
Once he extricated his arm from the grip, Owen rubbed his shoulder and scowled at the thugs of Jeddah grouping up on him.
“Sitting on the rise.” He thumbed toward Leighton.
“When I saw her get in the balloon, I wanted to keep an eye on her.” He was a brilliant actor.
“Since it seemed nobody else was watching out for Nouri.”
“Your job was to stay with her!” Maaz bit out.
“Kind of hard to do when your enforcers”—Owen nodded to Ghalib—“stop me at every turn. Had to resort to more subtle tactics.” He shrugged. “Can’t have it both ways—keeping me from her and demanding I protect her.”
“He’s just trying to get her back,” Daria whispered. “He doesn’t deserve her.”
“Everyone and their dog knows that,” Owen snapped. “Nouri is better than every person on this field.”
Breath staggered through Leighton at that declaration. Was he trying to get killed?
Don’t look, don’t look.
She looked. Could not help it. Those beautiful crystalline eyes seemed to harness the power of the moon itself. Glorious, intense.
“Do not let him have his job back,” Daria said to her brother. “He—”
“Unfortunately,” Owen spoke, “that is a decision only King Faruq can make, since my contract is with him.”
The crown prince stepped over to him, and it took everything in Leighton to plaster ambivalence and neutrality across her features. But she’d tensed.
“Come,” Rayan said softly, turning to her. “You do not—”
“The king trusts my counsel,” Maaz said clearly, loudly, since Owen had challenged his authority. “On all threats, especially to our family. Tomorrow, I will drag you before him and make sure he knows how you have lied in order to gain access to his daughter.”
Daughter. So in order to set themselves against Owen, they claimed her now? After locking her in a dungeon, beating her, and—
“Dinner, then everyone rest. We have an early start,” Maaz barked and strode away from the gathering.
“Can you believe that rancid American?” Aliyah complained as she threaded her arm through Leighton’s. “Does he really think we need him?”
I do. I most definitely need him.
Rayan and Aliyah ushered her back across the field, up the path to camp…
straight toward Owen. It took everything in her not to make eye contact.
Instead, she lifted her jaw, not to show indifference but to convince the royals she would not be a problem.
To show her strength. That he could trust her to keep their pact.
Yet, even as she moved past him, it crushed something deep in her to act so cold toward him as everyone else was doing. To see him so cruelly isolated and targeted.
The next morning on the plane, Owen was forced to the rear, guarded by Ghalib and Nasir.
With the way Rayan and Aliyah stayed near Leighton—Daria had returned her affection to Hassan once more and had little to do with her now—she was even more a prisoner than when they’d shut her in that windowless concrete cell.
Practice perfected over the years saved her sanity on that hours-long flight, then the drive from the airport to Omnia Palace.
Her heart raced as they emerged from the armored SUV and she stepped aside. Behind them came a grunt and muttered oath. She glanced back and saw Ghalib and Nasir shove a hood over Owen’s head.
Concern lanced her composure. “Why are they doing that?”
“Many guests have already arrived for the wedding,” Rayan said solemnly as he urged her in through the side door of the royal residence. “It is for his protection.”
“Do not worry,” Aliyah said. “They will make sure he is punished for his lies.”
“I would not want anyone injured on my account,” she said, wishing her thoughts could be heard by the king. Perhaps Owen might have a chance… Nerves thrummed and she feared this plan of his might be backfiring.
“Your kindness is one of the things I admire about you,” Rayan said softly, touching the small of her back as they moved through the lower corridor.
Belly quailing, she fought every impulse to twitch from his touch. He was nice. Kind even. Handsome. But…
He’s not Owen. And her story did not end here at this palace.
At least, she hoped not.