his surrogate mother following his own mother’s untimely death. She’d been the only person who understood his ways, including his wanderlust.
As soon as Zain reached her, Elena opened her arms and smiled. “Welcome back, caro mio.” She spoke to him in English, as she always had with the Mehdi boys, their “code” when they’d wanted to avoid prying ears.
He drew her into an embrace before stepping back and studying her face. “You are still as elegant as a gazelle, Elena.”
She patted her neatly coiffed silver hair. “I am an old gazelle, and you are still the charming giovinetto I have always adored.” A melancholy look suddenly crossed her face. “Now that your father has sadly left us, and you are to be king, I shall address you as such, Your Majesty.”
“Do not even think of it,” he said. “You are family and always will be, regardless of my station.”
She reached up and patted his cheek. “Yes, that is true. But you are still the king.”
“Not officially for another few weeks.” That reminded him of his most pressing mission. “Where is Rafiq?”
She shrugged. “In your father’s study, caro. He has spent most of his time there since…” Her gaze wandered away, but not before Zain glimpsed tears in her eyes.
He leaned and kissed her cheek. “We shall have a long talk soon.”
She pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “We shall. You must tell me everything you have been doing while you were away.”
He didn’t dare tell her everything. He might be an adult now, but she could still make him feel like the errant schoolboy. “I look forward to our visit.”
Ignoring his bodyguards and Deeb, Zain sprinted up the stone steps to his father’s second-floor sanctuary and opened the door without bothering to knock. The moment he stepped inside, he thought back to how badly he’d hated this place, plagued by memories of facing his father’s ire over crossing lines that he’d been warned not to cross. King Aadil Mehdi had ruled with an iron hand and little heart. And now he was gone.
Zain experienced both guilt and regret that their last words had been spoken in anger. That he hadn’t been able to forgive his father for his transgressions. Yet he could not worry about that now. He had more pressing matters that hung over his head like a guillotine.
His gaze came to rest on his brother predictably seated in the king’s favorite chair located near the shelves housing several rare collections. The changes in Rafiq were subtle in some ways, obvious in others. He wore the kaffiyeh, which Zain refused to wear, at least for the time being. He also sported a neatly trimmed goatee, much the same as their father’s. In fact, Rafiq could be a younger version of the king in every way—both physically and philosophically.
Rafiq glanced up from the newspaper he’d been reading and leveled a nonchalant look on Zain. “I see you have arrived in one piece.”
He didn’t appreciate his brother’s indifference or that he looked entirely too comfortable in the surroundings. “And I see you’ve taken up residence in the king’s official office. Do you plan to stay here indefinitely?”
Rafiq folded the paper in precise creases and tossed it onto the nearby desk. “The question is, brother, do you intend to stay indefinitely, or will this be only a brief visit?”
Zain’s anger began to boil below the surface as he attempted to cling to his calm. “Unfortunately for you, as the rightful heir to the throne, I’ll be here permanently. I’ve been preparing for this role for years.”
“By bedding women on several continents?”
His composure began to diminish. “Do not pretend to know me, Rafiq.”
“I would never presume that, Zain. You have been away for seven years and I only know what I have read about you.”
At one time, he and Rafiq had been thick as thieves. Sadly, that had ended when his brother had sided with their father over their differences, leaving brotherly ties in tatters. “I left because our father placed me in an intolerable position.”
“He only wanted you to adhere to the rules.”
Outdated rules that made no sense in modern times, yet that had only been a small part of his decision. If Rafiq knew the whole story, he might not be so quick to revere their patriarch. “He wanted me to be exactly like him—unwilling to move this country into the millennium because of archaic ideals.”
Rafiq rose slowly to his feet and walked to the window to peer outside. “The people are gathered at the gates, along with members of the press. One group demands an explanation as to why their new king deserted them years ago, the other waits for the wayward prince to explain his questionable behavior. Quite the dilemma.”
“I will answer those questions in due time.” Those that needed answering.
Rafiq turned and frowned. “Are you certain you can handle the pressure?”
If he didn’t leave soon, he could possibly throw a punch, producing more fodder for the gossip mill. “Your lack of faith wounds me, brother. Have you ever known a time when I failed to win people over?”
“We are not children any longer, Zain,” he said. “You can no longer brandish a smile and a few choice words and expect to prove you are worthy to be king.”
He clenched his fists now dangling at his sides. “Yet our father chose me to be king, Rafiq, whether you agree or not.”
“Our father believed that designating you as his successor would ensure you would eventually return. And in regard to your current status, you have yet to be officially crowned.”
Zain wondered if his brother might be hoping he would abdicate before that time. Never in a million years would he do that. Especially now. “That should be enough time for a seamless transition.” If only he felt as confident as he’d sounded.
“There will be serious challenges,” Rafiq said. “Our father worked hard to maintain our status as a neutral, autonomous country. Our borders are secure and we have avoided political unrest.”
“And we will continue to do so under my reign.”
“Only if you can convince your subjects that you have their best interests at heart. Any semblance of unrest will only invite those who would take advantage of the division. That is why I urge you to consider working with Madison Foster.”
He should have known it would come back to her. He’d had enough trouble keeping his thoughts away from Madison without the reminder. “Why do you believe her input would be so invaluable?”
“She has been extremely successful in her endeavors,” Rafiq said. “She has taken men with political aspirations and serious deficits and restored their honor.”
He was growing weary of the insults. “So now my honor is in question?”
“To some degree, yes,” Rafiq said as he reclaimed the chair. “What harm would there be in utilizing her talents? Quite frankly, I cannot believe you would refuse the opportunity to spend time with an attractive woman.”
As
