that as fast as possible.”
“Zain. You have ten minutes.”
“Twenty.” Before Kamal blasted him, Mohab preempted him. “Don’t say fifteen.”
Kamal’s gaze lengthened. “As an only child you missed out on having an older sibling kick your ass in your formative years. I’m close to rectifying your deficiency.”
Mohab grinned. “Think you can take me on, King Kamal?”
“Definitely.”
And Mohab believed it. Kamal wasn’t a pampered royal depending on others’ service and protection. This man was a warrior first and foremost. That he’d chosen to fight in the boardroom and now in the world’s political arenas didn’t mean he wouldn’t be as effective on an actual battlefield.
Before Mohab made a rejoinder, the king turned and crossed his expansive stateroom to the sitting area. Mohab suspected it was to hide a smile so as not to acknowledge this affinity that had sprung up between them.
Kamal resumed speaking as soon as Mohab took a seat across from him. “So why do you think you can give me Jareer...when I already have it, Sheikh Prince Solution?”
A laugh burst out of Mohab’s depths. That clinched it. He didn’t care that other people thought Kamal scary or boorish. To him, the guy was just plain rocking fun.
Kamal’s lips twisted in response, but didn’t lift.
“There is no law prohibiting an Aal Masood from smiling at an Aal Ghaanem, you know.”
Kamal’s lips pursed instead. “I may issue one prohibiting just that. The way you’re going, you might end up making the dispute between Judar and Saraya even more...insoluble.”
Mohab sighed. “So...Jareer, euphemistically referred to as our kingdoms’ contested region...”
“And currently known as our kingdoms’ future war zone,” Kamal finished.
Not if Mohab managed to resolve this.
Jareer used to be under Saraya’s rule. But the past few Sarayan monarchs had had no foresight. They’d centralized everything, neglecting then abandoning outlying regions. Jareer, on the border with Judar, had always been considered useless, because it lacked resources, and traitorous, because its citizens were akin to “enemy sympathizers.” So when Judar had laid claim to Jareer, with its people’s welcome, Mohab’s grandfather, King Othman, had considered it good riddance.
But when Mohab’s uncle, King Hassan, sat on Saraya’s throne, he’d reignited old conflicts with Judar. His favorite crusade had been reclaiming Jareer. Not because he’d suspected its future importance, but to spite the region’s inhabitants—and because he wanted more reasons to fight the Aal Masoods.
Then, two months ago, oil had been discovered in Jareer. Now the situation had evolved from an idle conflict between two monarchs to a struggle over limitless wealth and power. In a war between the two kingdoms, Saraya would be decimated for generations to come.
Only Mohab had the power to stop this catastrophe. Theoretically. There was still the possibility that Kamal would hear his proposition and reward his audacity by throwing him in that personal dungeon before wiping Saraya off the face of the earth.
One thing made Mohab hope this wouldn’t happen. Kamal himself. He was convinced that, though Kamal had every reason to crush Saraya, he would rather not. He hadn’t become one of the greatest kings by being reactionary—or by achieving prosperity for his kingdom at the cost of another kingdom’s destruction.
At least, Mohab hoped he was right. He had read Kamal’s “twin” all wrong once before after all....
“I will be disappointed if, after all this staring at me, you can’t draw me from memory.”
Jarred out of his thoughts by Kamal’s drawl, Mohab blinked at him. “You just remind me of someone so much, it keeps sidetracking me.”
“The same someone who made the death wish comment, eh?”
Not only brilliant, but intuitive, too. Mohab nodded.
“And there I was under the impression I was unique.”
Mohab sighed. “You are...both of you. Two of a kind.”
Kamal sat forward, ire barely contained. “As charmed as I am by all this...nostalgia of yours, I have a date with my wife in an hour, and I’d rather be late for my own funeral than for her. I might make you early for yours if you don’t talk. Fast.”
“All right. I am the rightful heir to Jareer.”
Kamal’s eyebrows shot up. He hadn’t seen this coming. No one could have.
Mohab explained. “For centuries, Jareer was an independent land, and my mother’s tribe, the Aal Kussaimis, ruled it up till a hundred and fifty years ago. But with my great-great-grandmother marrying an Aal Ghaanem, a treaty was struck with Saraya to annex the region, with terms for autonomy while under Sarayan rule and with provisions for secession if those terms weren’t observed.
“When Jareer found itself on its own again under my grandfather’s rule, it saw no reason to enforce the secession rules, as it was effectively separated from Saraya anyway. Then Judar offered its protection. But in truth, Jareer belongs to neither Judar nor Saraya. It belongs to my maternal tribe. I would have brought you the records of our claim for as far back as a thousand years, but after yesterday’s fiasco, I had to rush to intervene before I could get everything ready. However, rest assured, the claim is heavily documented by the tribe’s elders and historians.”
Kamal blinked as if emerging from a trance. “That’s your solution? Inserting the Aal Kussaimis as preceding claimants? Widening the dispute and adding more fuel to the fire?”
“Actually, I am ending the dispute. The Aal Kussaimis’ claim trumps both the Aal Ghaanems’ and the Aal Masoods’. Any regional or international court would sanction that claim.”
Kamal’s eyes burned with contemplation. “If all this is true, shouldn’t I be talking to the tribe’s elder? Who can’t be you since you’re...how old? Thirty?”
“Thirty-eight. But while it’s true I’m not the tribe’s elder, I am the highest-ranking tribe member by merit. I was elected the tribe’s leader years ago. Which effectively makes me the king of Jareer.”
Kamal’s lashes lowered. A testament to his surprise.
When his gaze rose again, it was tranquil. That didn’t fool Mohab for a second. He could almost hear the gears of Kamal’s formidable mind screeching.
“Interesting. So you’re claiming to be King Solution. Even if you prove to be the first, how do you propose to be the second?”
“Proving my claim is a foregone conclusion. The second should be self-evident.”
“Not to me.”
Jala’s exact words that fateful night. Said in the same tone. Kamal’s likeness to her had suddenly ceased to be reminiscent and had become only grating.
Mohab
