‘How could I? I never visited her.’
‘And she never asked for you. Did she speak to Aida?’
‘No.’ He cast the straw aside. ‘No. I couldn’t ask her directly without betraying Elmira but—no.’
‘It’s my impression too, that Aida thought her content. Whatever drove Elmira to take such extreme action, she was determined to keep it to herself. It is one of the most tragic aspects of her death that the act which she saw as putting an end to her suffering made you suffer so much.’
‘I deserve to suffer.’
Was she imagining it, or did he sound less convinced? ‘Do you think that Elmira wished you to feel so guilty?’ Stephanie asked. ‘She went to great pains to escape the harem that night, drugging Aida and the guard.’
‘She wanted to be with Sherifa.’
‘Of course, but do you think it’s possible that she also wanted to make someone other than you feel guilty?’
‘I don’t know what you—You mean Jasim?’ Rafiq looked as if he had taken another blow to the head. ‘Jasim?’
‘It is Jasim who stopped Elmira going to the stables. Jasim who accused her of interfering. Jasim who accused her of having an affair. Jasim who sacked the man who, if he was not her lover, was at very least her closest friend. You cannot know what was lies and what was malice, but Elmira knew. And Elmira chose to die in the stables.’
‘Stephanie, it is too much. I don’t—I can’t...’
‘Grant me a few more moments, please?’ She waited for his nod. ‘Elmira took her own life, Rafiq, and whatever her reasons, the act itself was hers, not yours. What you did do afterwards was protect her honour and that of her family as you had when she was indiscreet. No one knows that she died by her own hand. You have borne all the guilt of that, spared her family that scandal. And you spared them the shame of a divorce too.’
‘Because I wanted to keep the horses.’
‘Do you think Elmira would have been happier, returned to her family a divorced woman, than she was confined to your harem?’ Stephanie touched his arm gently. ‘I know, an impossible question, but you must think about it. Much more importantly, what you need to think about is how much this tragedy has changed you. The man I know, the honourable, caring, thoughtful man sitting beside me, is not the man who married Elmira. When you marry again—’ She broke off, blinking furiously. She couldn’t fall at this last hurdle. ‘When you marry again, you will be a very different husband. You may even encourage your wife to be honest with you, for you will need someone to do so when I am gone.’
‘Stephanie, you are unique.’
‘No. I am simply the first of my kind you have encountered. Given a little encouragement, you will find that most women will speak their minds as I do.’
He took her hands, unlacing her fingers carefully before kissing her fingertips. ‘Speaking your mind, as you have done, takes a great deal of courage.’
‘I want you to be happy, Rafiq. You deserve to be happy.’
He kissed her hand again. ‘I will settle for making my peace.’
‘Don’t settle for that,’ Stephanie said fiercely. ‘You deserve more than that.’
He sighed. ‘You have given me a great deal to think about. I need time—I have no idea—I need time.’
‘Of course you do. But please, Rafiq, you will reflect on what I have said?’
He got to his feet, pulling her with him. ‘I promise.’ He kissed her softly. ‘Thank you.’
Two weeks later
The training paddock was north of the palace, a large natural arena in the valley created by a huge red rock in the shape of a horseshoe. The hard-packed sand was an ideal surface for the racehorses, although the Sabr team were also taken out to train on the course, in order to acclimatise them to the different terrains. When Stephanie had pointed out that this must give the home team an advantage, Fadil had been insulted, informing her that any team from any kingdom was welcome to use the course.
At the far end of the grounds, in the shelter of the rock at the top of the horseshoe, were the stable buildings and temporary accommodation. She dismounted near the entrance to the arena, tethering Sherifa in the shade and fetching her a bucket of water. This was the mare’s first outing since her sickness, and though it was a short ride, Stephanie was taking no chances.
Rafiq had invited her to come today to watch the training. She had seen very little of him since his confession. Though she was desperate to know whether her heartfelt arguments had changed his thinking, she was determined to give him the time he had asked for.
There was no sign of him. Two horses were being schooled over high hurdles in the centre of the arena. Three yearlings were being put through their paces on the course over at the far end. There were five or six more in a pen nearby, with a mule companion.
Out on the course, four horses were being brought out. Each had a rope bridle and reins but no saddle. Three mares and one stallion, and all were very frisky, their handlers struggling to hold them. Rafiq emerged from the stable building, and Stephanie’s heart leapt. He was dressed in his usual riding clothes: leather breeches, long boots, white shirt. He scanned the arena, and when he spotted Stephanie with Sherifa, he smiled and waved, and her heart leapt again.
There followed an intense discussion between the men which she could not hear, presumably over the order in which Rafiq would ride. She knew from Fadil that this was one of the trickiest decisions on the day, particularly if the race was close. It was not uncommon for a horse to bolt without his rider, or for a horse to refuse to stop for the change. Riding bareback without stirrups made it even more of a challenge for the jockey to control a runaway or a rearing horse. Fadil had recounted many instances of what sounded to Stephanie terrible injuries, with some relish. Seeing her horror, he had been hasty to reassure her that the horses were rarely hurt. It didn’t occur to him that she would be far more concerned about Rafiq than his thoroughbreds. But that was most likely because it didn’t seem to occur to a single one of Bharym’s people that their Prince could do anything other than triumph.
The order was decided. Rafiq leapt on to the back of the first horse, an impressive feat in itself, for the black mare was refusing to stand still. Stephanie watched, her heart in her mouth, as he set off around the circuit of the track. The yearlings had been returned to their pen. A storm of dust and sand blew up as Rafiq galloped at full tilt, sitting forward and straight on the mare, his body swaying easily with the horse. He made it look effortless. Stephanie knew, because she had tried it only the other day, that it was incredibly difficult.
He was approaching the change now. The other three horses were fidgety. The change horse was being led out. The handler for the current horse was crouched, ready to dash forward. A thundering of hooves. Surely Rafiq would slow down. He did, but only yards before the change. Stephanie watched through her fingers as he leaned forward on to the neck of the horse, pulling on the reins to slow her, then throwing one leg over, hovering half on, half off, as the change horse was brought up, then sliding to the ground, running without breaking stride, and leaping on to the fresh horse as if he had springs on his heels, then he was off again at a gallop.
It all happened so
