Chapter Nine
MY SISTER WAS ALIVE.
The words kept circling in my mind as Mik’hail and I followed the doctor through the palace corridors, but no matter how many times I repeated them, they refused to feel real.
Aretha. Alive. Here.
The doctor stopped outside a door and turned to us, his voice low. “She’s resting now, Your Highness.”
“What happened to her?” I heard myself ask. “Where has she been?”
“It appears Lady Aretha suffered amnesia from the accident. A man named Royce found her at the crash site, and when he realized she had no memory...” The doctor paused. “He told her she was his wife.”
Oh, Aretha.
“She only recovered her memories yesterday,” the doctor continued. “She tried to escape, but Royce caught her climbing out a window. There was a struggle. She fell.” He gestured vaguely. “Her leg is broken. She’ll need to wear a cast for at least a month.”
My throat was so tight I could barely speak. “May I see her?”
The doctor glanced at Mik’hail. I caught the sheikh giving a small nod, and then the doctor was opening the door.
The room was dim, just a single lamp by the bed, casting soft shadows across the walls. It took a second for my eyes to adjust, and then...
Aretha.
My throat tightened with tears. She looked so small in that narrow hospital bed. So fragile. Her dark hair was spread across the pillow, her face pale, her leg encased in a cast and propped up on pillows. Nothing like the fierce, commanding sister I remembered.
Guilt consumed me as I thought of how Aretha had been alive all this time, trapped and deceived into living a life that was never hers...while I was here in the palace, falling in love with the sheikh she was supposed to marry.
I wanted to reach for her hand. I wanted to tell her I was sorry—for everything. But my feet wouldn’t move, and my voice wouldn’t work, and all I could do was stand there and watch her breathe.
“Lady Aurora.” The doctor’s voice was gentle behind me. “It’s best to let your sister rest. We’ll look after her, and we’ll let you know as soon as she wakes.”
I nodded and let him guide me out, and as the distance between Aretha and me grew, my guilt turned into the most self-centered of fears.
Oh, Aurora.
How selfish could I get, to worry about the future I had with the sheikh, considering all my sister had gone through?
My nails dug into my palms as my mind circled back to Aretha’s face.
How pale she looked. How small. It was hard to think of her as the sister who had once made me feel like I would never be good enough.
When we reached my room, I turned to Mik’hail without meeting his eyes. “Good night, akh.” My voice came out strange. Hollow. “I should—”
But before I could finish, he took my hand and led me inside, closing the door behind us.
“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.
I shook my head. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”
“Aurora.”
Just my name. But the way he said it—like it was something precious, something that belonged only to him—made my chest ache.
“Now that my sister’s back,” I made myself say, “I understand if you need to—”
“We’ll have to delay our wedding, yes.” His voice was grave. “Aretha will never forgive you if you make her attend in a ghastly cast.”
All I could do was stare at him.
“Can you imagine? All those photographs with her leg propped up on a pillow?” He shook his head, mouth twitching. “She would hold it against you forever.”
And just like that, all the fear and uncertainty that had been building inside me since Gordan said her name—
I burst into ugly, noisy tears as Mik’hailed pulled me into his arms. I’m sorry, God. I’m so sorry for being selfish.
“I was terrified you’d leave me now that my s-sister’s—”
“Aretha and I were never lovers,” the sheikh said tautly.
“Not in the way you and I are. I am sorry for what she’s gone through, and I will, of course, ensure she receives the best of care.
But do not let this blind you to the past, Aurora.
She was never faithful to me. And she was never kind to you. ”
“I k-know. It’s just—”
“You are the one I want.” His arms tightened around me. “And it will always be so.”
I had no chance to answer, with the sheikh taking my lips in a kiss that started soft and gentle before deepening into something that we both needed.
I could feel him holding back as our bodies pressed closer, could feel the tension in his shoulders, the way his whole body trembled with the effort of being gentle.
He undressed me slowly. Reverently. Pressing kisses to each inch of skin as it was revealed—my shoulder, my collarbone, the hollow of my throat. By the time he finally eased the dress away, I was trembling so hard I could barely think.
I wanted to cover myself. Wanted to hide. But the way he was looking at me—like I was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen—made it impossible to move.
“How beautiful you are.”
The roughness of his voice had my cheeks burning. I didn’t know where to look, what to do with my hands. I had never felt so exposed in my life.
“Please.” It was the only word I could manage. “Please, Mik’hail.”
Something in his expression cracked, and then he was kissing me again. Longer. Deeper. And so, so fiercely that I could only gasp for air as his lips finally trailed down my throat.
He touched me with the kind of care that brought tears to my eyes. He took his time, driving me slowly and exquisitely mad with his hands and his mouth until I was shaking beneath him, breathless and aching and half out of my mind.
“Mik’hail—” His name came out broken. Desperate. “Please—”
“Please what?” His voice was low. Dark.
But I couldn’t answer. Couldn’t form the words. All I could do was pull at his robes, trying to bring him closer, needing to feel his skin against mine.
And of course he understood.
If I paused to think about it, my sheikh had always understood what I wanted before I even needed it, and when we were finally skin to skin, the warmth of his body had me gasping anew. He just felt so powerfully solid and real—
Oh, Mik’hail.
I thought I knew what to expect. But I realized I didn’t know anything at all the moment he claimed me his.
The pain was a sharp sting that had me jerking at first, but because Mik’hail was perfectly still and patient, the discomfort gradually faded while I became increasingly aware of how beautifully strange it was, to be finally one with the only man I had ever loved.
..and the only one I’d love for the rest of my life.
The sheikh’s movements started out like most of his kisses.
Soft, slow, and gentle at first. Mik’hail waiting with the patience of a lion, biding his time while he focused on driving me crazy.
He didn’t speed up even though I found myself driving my nails into the panes of his back.
He kept that slow, devastating rhythm until I was clutching at his shoulders, gasping his name, my whole body wound so tight I thought I might shatter.
“Mik’hail...”
And finally, oh finally.
It was like finally seeing the real him underneath the courteous manners and warrior-like strength. Once his control broke, he was all danger, power, and speed, and to feel his powerful body shudder against mind as pleasure crashed over us at the same time—
I thought I knew what it meant to fall apart because of what happened between us in the dorm. But I realized once again how little I knew. In fact, I was beginning to think I didn’t know anything at all...since I honestly thought it was all over, only to feel the sheikh cupping my face—
“I want you again.”
My eyes widened. “A-Again?”
“Yes.”
I shook my head weakly. “I can’t—”
“You can.”
He shifted, and I gasped, and oh, he was right. I could.
I did.
Again.
And again.
Mik’hail was relentless. Every time I thought we were finished, every time I tried to catch my breath, he would find some new way to make me gasp and tremble and cry out.
His hands. His mouth. The way he moved inside me like he was trying to memorize every response, every sound, every way he could make me fall apart.
“Please,” I whimpered somewhere around the fourth time. Or maybe the fifth. I had lost count. “Please, I can’t—”
“One more.” His mouth found that spot behind my ear. “Give me one more, Briar.”
“I—oh—”
I gave him one more.
And one more after that.
Until there was no way to know where he ended or where I began. All I knew was that when we looked into each other eyes—
“I love you.”
I whispered it out loud this time. I had to.
“And I love you.”
And it seemed he felt the same way, too.
He gathered me against his chest, and in the silence that followed, I tried to stop myself from thinking...but failed. Memories of Aretha crowded my mind, but when I tried to speak to Mik’hail—
“Sleep, Briar.”
It seemed he already knew.
“Rest will do us both good—” He pressed his lips to my hair. “—and we’ll be able to think more clearly.”
“But—”
“Sleep, Briar.”
I wanted to argue. But my eyes were already drifting shut, and my body felt like it was floating, and the next thing I knew...it was already the next day, but the space next to mine was empty.
I rose slowly, wincing and blushing at the same time when I realized how certain parts of my body ached with discomfort.
I couldn’t stop thinking of him as I dressed myself, but I also couldn’t help wondering if that was okay.
Even though I knew what he said was true, and that Aretha’s ordeal didn’t mean I was supposed to forget that theirs was nothing but a business match—
Why couldn’t I just stop worrying? Why did I have such a hard time believing that the sheikh would remain mine? Why oh why did he have to be someone else’s first?
I stepped out of my room without making any noise, a by-product of my childhood years, where my parents instilled in me the importance of being silent and blending in so that I wouldn’t accidentally steal the spotlight from Aretha’s.
My heart grew heavier as I walked in search of the sheikh, my steps only slowing down when I heard voices coming from the throne room. I knew I shouldn’t eavesdrop—
“The treaty signed by my father—”
But the moment I realized it was Mik’hail who was speaking, my feet were already carrying me down the corridor, and before I knew it, I was pressing myself against the wall outside the partially open doors.
“—the betrothal was binding—”
“—cannot simply cast aside Lady Aretha—”
Through the gap in the doors, I could see men in formal diplomatic attire, at least a dozen of them, and some of them familiar. I knew right away they were envoys from Suneria, the kingdom where my family and I used to live.
“The Sheikh of Layla was promised to the eldest daughter of the House of Desmonde.” The man who spoke seemed to be the leader of the delegation, his voice sharp and accusing.
“Lady Aretha was believed dead.” Mik’hail’s voice was calm, but I could hear the steel beneath it. “The betrothal was dissolved.”
“She is not dead. She is here, in your palace, and if Layla does not honor its commitment, Suneria will have no choice but to impose sanctions. Tariffs. The freezing of all Sunerian assets in Layla and all Laylan assets in Suneria.” The man’s voice hardened.
“We are one of your largest trading partners, Your Highness. I trust you understand what that means.”
“You would threaten economic war,” Mik’hail said slowly, “over a marriage contract?”
My entire world suddenly felt like it was spining out of control...as I realized that the only reason they were having this conversation in the first place was because of me.
“We would protect the honor of a noble daughter of Suneria—”
“If the treaty requires a daughter of the House of Desmonde,” Mik’hail cut in, “then let it be Aurora. She is also Lord Richard’s daughter—”
“I’m afraid that’s not true, Your Highness.”
My body started to sway. W-What was this man saying?
“Lady Elizabeth’s...indiscretion...during her marriage is not unknown to us.” The envoy’s voice was cool. Matter-of-fact. “Aurora is not Lord Richard’s biological child. He agreed to raise her as his own, but she carries none of his blood. She cannot fulfill the terms of the treaty.”
I couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t think.
Couldn’t do anything but stand there, frozen, as the words echoed in my head.
Mik’hail and the envoy were speaking again, but I could no longer hear a word.
I wasn’t a Desmonde.
I never had been.
And the man I loved was about to lose everything because of me.