“Sayed.” Liyah was incapable of further speech at the moment.
“Do you like your suite?”
She nodded. “It’s beautiful.”
“But not her prison,” Queen Durrah inserted.
“Of course not, Mother. What have you been telling her?”
“We have just been discussing how best to handle her visit.”
“I believe I said I wanted to have that discussion with her?” he asked, irritation sparking in his dark gaze.
The queen shook her head. “You should not be here at all.”
“And yet you knew I intended to come and speak to Aaliyah as soon as I’d talked to Father.”
“Surely you could not be finished discussing your strategy for dealing with Tahira’s little escapade already?” the queen prompted.
“We can finish after I’ve made sure Aaliyah is comfortable.”
“Surely I am capable of doing that.”
Tired of watching words being bounced between mother and son like tennis volleys, Liyah went out on the balcony and left them to it.
Sayed joined her a few seconds later. “Are you all right, Aaliyah?”
“Do you want a polite lie, or the truth?”
“Truth, please.” His hand landed on her shoulder and Liyah wondered what the queen thought of that.
“I’m a bit overwhelmed, and while this suite is gorgeous it does feel a little like a prison.”
He turned her to face him and waited until she tipped her head back so their gazes met. “It’s not meant to. If nothing else, I want you to enjoy your stay here, to truly come to know the country of your mother’s birth.”
“Will I see you at all?”
“You are seeing me now.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the best one I can give you.” The glimpse she got in that second of Sayed the man, the very conflicted man, told Liyah she wasn’t the only one struggling with their situation.
“You promised to be my tour guide.”
“And so he shall be.” The queen stood in the open French doors leading to the balcony.
“Mother, could you please give us some privacy?” Sayed asked in a pained tone that would have been funny if Liyah wasn’t feeling so fragile.
More emotions she was doing her best to hide.
“I’ll just call for some tea and wait for it in the sitting room.” Whether it was the queen’s not-so-subtle way of telling her son she wasn’t leaving them entirely alone, or a simple peace offering, Liyah wasn’t up to guessing.
“Aaliyah, please.”
“What?” she asked, searching the depths of Sayed’s brown gaze for something.
Even she couldn’t say exactly what.
“Don’t look like that.”
“Like what?” She was doing her best not to look like anything.
He dropped his forehead against hers, breaking eye contact, but cocooning them in another type of intimacy. “Like you might break.”
“I won’t break.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise.” Though she wasn’t sure she was telling the truth. And she was an honest woman. “I’ll try.”
He made a sound that hurt to hear. “Taking it one day at a time, right?”
“Does that really work?”
“Yes.” His hands cupped both sides of her neck, his thumbs rubbing softly against her skin.
Knowing if she didn’t break contact she was going to say or do something she’d regret, she stepped away. “I suppose it’s a good philosophy but not one I think you exercise very often.”
He took a step toward her and then seemed to think better of it and moved even farther away.
“You would be surprised. No matter how much a planner you are, in the world of politics and running a country there is only so much you can control.” He managed a contained tone, but his hands fisted the wrought-iron railing in front of him with white-knuckled intensity.
“Then you cannot blame yourself for what is beyond that control.” She hoped he took the words as the absolution she meant.
He swallowed, and when he spoke again his tone was a little ragged around the edges. “Cultivating the patience to deal with challenges as they arrive instead of fighting against them is another thing my father taught me was essential.”
They remained there, together but silent, until the queen informed them that the tea had arrived and the king had requested his son join him to finish their discussion.
Seeming unable to help himself, Sayed kissed Liyah on the temple before leaving her suite.
Despite the fact even this small display of affection was not exactly acceptable by Zeena Sahran standards, the queen did not remark on it as she poured Liyah a cup of steaming jasmine tea.
“Now, about the hijab.”
“Yes?”
“Wearing a scarf gives you instant access to an unremarkable assurance for privacy of identity should it become necessary.” Queen Durrah smiled very much like her son. “Besides, there is less chance of you being recognized as a foreigner if you wear one.”
“And the clothes?”
“Hiding in plain sight.” The queen smiled. “I believe that is a well-known technique, yes?”
“Yes.”
“The presence in the palace of a traditional Zeena Sahran woman would be cause for much less speculation than an obvious American.”
Liyah didn’t doubt it, having to bite back a smile at how much the queen reminded her of Sayed in that moment. They were both so certain they knew what was right.
“Unfortunately, there is nothing we can do about your Americanized speech.”
“I’m perfectly happy to speak in Arabic while staying here at the palace,” Liyah said in a perfect Zeena Sahran dialect.
The queen’s eyes widened and then she flashed that smile so reminiscent of her son again. “How wonderful. Sayed did not mention your fluency in our language.”
“I’ve
