to her suite of rooms, the bedroom dominated by an enormous gilded bed that was surmounted by a coronet and swathes of luxurious, deep-red silk.
It looked incredibly inviting. Finally giving way to her tiredness, Anna headed for the bathroom for a quick shower, taking in the huge, sunken marble bath with its flashy gold fittings and the veined marble walls. Then, climbing into the bed, she closed her eyes and let herself sink into deep, dream-filled sleep.
She was awoken by a tap on the door. Two dark-haired young women appeared, each bearing a tray laden with fruit, cheese, eggs, hummus, pitta bread and olives. She sat forward as they silently plumped up the pillows behind her, then one started to pour a cup of coffee whilst the other one held a plate and a pair of tongs, presumably waiting for Anna to make her selection.
‘Oh, thank you.’ Pushing the hair out of her eyes, Anna smiled at them, wondering how on earth she was ever going to do justice to this feast. What time was it anyway? A gilded clock on the wall opposite showed it to be just past one o’clock. So, that would be one in the afternoon? She looked back at the food. She was going to have to choose something. Judging by the earnest look on the young girls’ faces, she wouldn’t have been surprised if they had offered to feed her themselves. ‘I think I’ll try the eggs—they look delicious.’
Immediately an omelette was set before her and two pairs of eyes watched as she tentatively dug in her fork.
‘Do you speak English?’ Anna took a mouthful of omelette followed by a mouthful of coffee. The latter was strong, dark and utterly delicious.
‘Yes, Your Highness.’
‘Does everyone in Nabatean speak English?’
‘Yes, Your Highness, it is our second language. You will find everyone can speak it.’
‘It’s the second language in my country too, so that’s handy.’ Anna smiled at these two pretty young women. ‘And please, call me Annalina. “Your Highness” sounds far too stuffy.’
The women nodded but something told Anna that they would struggle with such informality. ‘Can I ask your names?’
‘I am Lena and this is Layla.’
‘What pretty names. I’m guessing you are sisters?’ She tried another forkful of omelette.
‘We are. Layla is my younger sister by two years.’
‘Well, it’s very nice to meet you. Have you worked here in the palace long?’ If she couldn’t manage to eat much, at least she could distract them with conversation.
‘Yes, for nearly two years. Ever since the palace was built. We are very lucky. After our parents died we were given a home in return for serving the King and Prince Zahir.’
So their parents were dead. Anna suspected there were going to be many tales of death and destruction in this country once ravaged by war. She wanted to ask more but Lena’s lowered eyes suggested to pry further would be insensitive. Layla, however, had edged closer to the bed, staring at her as if she had been dropped down from another planet.
‘I like your hair.’
‘Layla!’ Her sister admonished her with a sharp rebuke.
‘That’s okay.’ Anna laughed, looking down at the blonde locks that were tumbling in disarray over her shoulders. ‘Thank you for the compliment. It takes a lot of brushing in the morning, though, to get the tangles out.’
‘I can do that for you,’ Layla replied earnestly.
‘Well, that’s very kind of you but…’
‘We are honoured to be able to serve you, Your Royal Highness,’ Lena said. ‘Prince Zahir has instructed us to attend to your every need.’
He had? Anna found it hard to believe that he would concern himself with such trivialities as her every need. ‘Well, in that case, I will take you up on your kind offer. Prince Zahir…’ Anna hesitated. She wanted to ask what sort of an employer he was, what sort of a man they thought he was, but suspected that they wouldn’t be at liberty to tell her and it would be unfair to ask. ‘Do you see very much of him?’
‘No. He is away from the palace a lot. And, even when he is here, his needs are very few.’
‘Do you have many visitors, here in the palace?’
‘Not so many. Mostly foreign businessmen and politicians.’
‘We’ve never had a visitor as pretty as you before,’ Layla offered conversationally. ‘Do all the women in your country look like you?’
‘Well, the women of Dorrada tend to be fair-skinned and blue-eyed. The men too, come to that. Your dark beauty would be much prized in my country. As I’m sure it is here.’
‘So, Prince Zahir…’ Layla continued. ‘You think him handsome?’
‘Layla!’
‘I am only asking.’ Layla stuck out her bottom lip.
‘Obviously she thinks him handsome. She wouldn’t be marrying him otherwise.’
Anna suppressed a smile as the two sisters set about one another in their own language, waiting for them to finish before speaking again.
‘The answer to your question is yes—I do think him handsome.’
The sisters exchanged an excited glance.
‘And it is true that you will be marrying and coming to live here in the palace?’ This time Lena asked the question, her curiosity overcoming her sense of decorum.
‘Yes, that is true.’ Saying it out loud didn’t make it seem any the less astonishing.
Lena’s and Layla’s pretty faces broke out into broad smiles and they even reached to clasp each other’s hands.
‘That is very good news, Your Royal Highness. Very good news indeed.’
Staring at the screen, Zahir cursed under his breath. He had braced himself for a small photograph of the two of them on the bridge, prepared to suffer the mild humiliation of being caught kissing in public, or rather being kissed, when it was put in the wider context of the engagement party. But this wasn’t a small photograph. This was a series of images, blown up to reveal every minor detail. With his finger jabbing on the mouse, Zahir scrolled down and down, his blood pressure rocketing as more and more pictures of him locked in a passionate embrace with Annalina flashed before his eyes. There were even several close-ups of the engagement ring, worn on the slender hand that was threaded through his hair, before finally the official photographs of the party appeared, the ones he wanted the world to see. The ones where he and Annalina were standing solemnly side by side, displaying their commitment to each other and to their countries.
And it wasn’t just one newspaper. The whole of Europe appeared to be obsessed with the beautiful Princess Annalina, the press in France, the UK, and of course Dorrada itself taking a particular interest, feasting on the titbits that the photographer had no doubt sold to them for a handsome fee.
A
