struggled to step away, to do without his support, quirked her lips at him. “So your lair is from another era. You didn’t tell me you have time travel among your limitless powers.”
He flicked a glance around the place, looked back at her in mocking reassurance. “The place only looks primitive. It’s got every modern amenity, never fear.”
“It isn’t primitive. It’s … authentic.”
“Authentic is a cover word for backward.”
“You think I’d go for a cover word to express an unfavorable opinion?”
“Come to think of it, no. You’d probably ‘smack out’ said opinion.”
“Maybe not as you would. But this place is enchanting. And not only because it’s a sight for my sore eyes after the nothingness we’ve been engulfed in for an eternity.”
“So now we know what eternity is. The four hours it took to get here.”
She groaned, remembering the endlessness. “It felt like four days.”
He removed his abaya, tossed it on the nearest cushion. Sweat had plastered his loose shirt to his formidable torso, a testament to his exertion. The blow-torching dryness had evaporated every drop of her sweat, then dug its tentacles into her body to draw any remaining moisture from its depths. Good thing, too, or she would have drooled at the sight he made right now.
He strode to the kitchen, flicked switches. Droning started, a generator, then a pump. He turned on the tap. After a few coughs and spurts, water flowed. Her parched insides tingled at the sight. She teetered over to him, took the glass he’d filled for her.
“I’ve had the well water tested …” He paused as she gulped it down in one go, continued the assurance she hadn’t needed. “And it passes through filters and purifiers.” He downed his own glass. “And for the record, this place is about forty miles from where we were. We could have covered the distance in less time under better conditions, but as it was, it was a damn good rate. So sorry my efforts didn’t meet Your Royal Grumpiness’s timetable.”
She felt her lips would split if she smiled. She gulped down her third glass of water, settled for twitching them at him. “I wasn’t complaining, Your Royal Snarkiness.”
“Why not? It isn’t as if I can send you back now.”
“Nope.” She chuckled and watched his strong throat work as he drank, wondered how it would feel beneath her lips, if his skin would taste as intoxicating as he smelled. She sighed, knowing it wouldn’t be soon enough before she could find out. “But I would have appreciated it if, among your prolific commentary on the human condition, you’d told me how long you expected our ride to be. Not knowing made it feel like it would never end, made it harder to take.”
“And what would you have done if I’d estimated four hours and those became five or six? You would have spent that extra time going nuts thinking we were lost.”
“Not if you told me we weren’t.”
“As if you would have believed me.”
“I absolutely would have.”
That seemed to do the impossible—had him stymied for a comeback. Those spectacular eyebrows swooped down as if he, too, couldn’t believe it. As if he couldn’t believe she’d trust his word that undeniably. He’d soon learn otherwise.
She saw right through his masterfully off-putting facade to the core of valor inside. She more than trusted him. She believed in him.
She decided to put him out of his sarcasmless misery. “But you wanted to spare me anxiety, so your intentions were good.”
“And we all know where those lead.” He flicked a mocking look around. “Even though there wouldn’t be much worse than here.”
“Stop insulting this wonderful place. If you no longer want it for a lair, I’ll take it off your hands. Just name your price.”
A moment stretched as he brooded at her. “You’re barely standing upright and I’m not carrying you again if you collapse. Do so inside while I take care of business. Help yourself to the jet-powered shower.”
“And you dare badmouth this place. I would have been ecstatic with rudimentary indoor plumbing. A jet shower is nirvana.”
“It’s nothing like you’re used to …” She opened her mouth to remind him that she hadn’t always been a prince’s daughter. He overrode her. “And don’t expect anything fancy to eat. Provisions are all dried, powdered and canned.”
“It comes with food, too? A veritable five-star hotel, then.”
“Go.”
“Why do I get the feeling you want to get rid of me?” He rumbled something dangerous in his gut. She raised her hands in teasing placation. “I’ll go, but only because what you’re offering is irresistible. Rest, cleanliness, anything edible—” and being alone with you, she added inwardly “—constitutes heaven to me.”
With a last impish glance, she did her best not to wobble to the “inside” his stern finger had pointed to.
She entered a shock of a futuristic bathroom encased in pearly black marble, with a white onyx tub and toilet, a tempered-glass sink and a shower cubicle and brushed-steel fixtures and accents. It felt constructed to suit another facet of him, the ultramodern desert knight, where he—
Worry detonated inside her, aborting her fantasies.
She rushed back out. “Where’s Dahabeya?”
Amjad had been standing where she’d left him, staring at the ceiling. Nonchalance descended at her reappearance, masking what she’d seen on his face. But she had seen it. A terrible bleakness.
He shrugged. “In her stable, fed and watered. I’ll go wash her down and treat any injuries she sustained.”
With that he started fortifying himself again. She walked back slowly to the bathroom, her nerves rattling.
What could have warranted such an expression?
He’s exhausted, she answered herself. She’d just caught him not hiding it. She should stop gorging on his every breath and overanalyzing his every expression.
She exited a stinging, reviving shower, was drying herself with towels she’d found bagged and smelling of freshness when another scent hit her. Ambrosia, by the smell of it.
She scooped up her clothes, and the scent of fear and exhaustion rising from them made her groan in disgust. And she’d been clinging to him smelling like that.
She peeked around the wall. Amjad had his back to her in the kitchen. She bolted across the corridor.
She raided his closet, picked a shirt that fell to her knees. She didn’t find any underwear, put her own, washed and wet, on.
She pattered out over the warm, wonderful stone texture of the floor on bare feet, almost
