and represent himself as the face of the nation without looking like an overgrown bush. Have they coached you on how to deal with the press?”
For the first time, Tarek felt a bit of discomfort. For the first time, he felt lost at sea in a different way. He had been focused on acclimating to palace life. To his new position. But he had a plan. He knew what he wanted for his country, and he was confident that he was morally everything Tahar needed in a leader. But the press, a ballroom full of people... He did not know what he would do under those circumstances. He did not know how to carry on a conversation in a civil manner, much less conduct an interview, much less give speeches. He knew how to strike terror into the hearts of his enemies. Could carve a swath of death and destruction through an opposing army with a flick of his sword.
But these things? They were foreign to him.
As foreign as the heat he felt when Olivia’s fingertips brushed against his skin.
He was a man who held command of life and death. A man who had survived bloody battles and great torture.
But he was, in many ways, not a man. He was all that he had been created to be. But he had not been created for this.
He would have to be remade. Again.
Sheikh Tarek al-Khalij had survived immense pain. Had faced down situations that would bring certain death, and triumphed. Very few things frightened him. But the prospect of being melted down again, reformed, did. Ice replaced the blood in his veins, a sick sensation washing over him.
He looked at Olivia, her slender form, her delicate hands. Hands that had already touched his skin. Before Olivia, how long had it been since anyone had touched him? He had had wounds bandaged at the various Bedouin camps. And before that...before that every touch had been agony. Designed to destroy.
But he could not remember the last time anyone had ever touched him so gently.
Perhaps being reformed in Olivia’s hands would be a different experience.
And perhaps she was correct. Perhaps she was all the hope he had.
She had been honest with him. Pain had radiated from her blue eyes as she had spoken of having no place. She needed him. Maybe admitting he needed her would not be so terrible.
“The coronation is in two weeks,” he said. “I do not know what will be expected of me.”
“You set the precedent. You are the sheikh. But you have to understand that if you forgo certain things, it will appear odd.”
“Did you aid your first husband in navigating his coronation?”
“I didn’t have to help Marcus with any of that,” she said, a soft smile on her lips. She softened when she thought of him. “He was born to that life. Created for it. He was an aristocrat on every layer. In a suit, out of the suit, you would never mistake him for anything but what he was. You, on the other hand, will have trouble looking like aristocracy even with the finest suit. I am not being insulting. I am merely stating a fact. No, I didn’t help him. But I did watch him. He, in fact, helped me. I was an heiress from the States, and while I knew plenty about presenting myself at functions, royal functions are entirely different. I’ve walked this road. I daresay it will be longer and harder for you, but I can help you along the way.”
“We shall marry,” he said, his voice rough. “I know nothing about this life I have stepped into. I know what I want. I know who I want to be. But I cannot get there without you. On this you have convinced me.”
Her breath left her body in a rush. “After four days?”
“You are determined. And you are very convincing.” He pushed the shirt from his shoulders, standing before her in nothing more than the dress pants. “We will announce our engagement at the coronation. I feel it is best to present a strong direction for the country. That said, having a wife in waiting will be best. I’m certain you can find a wedding gown that pleases you quickly enough?”
“I can,” she said, her voice soft.
For the first time since he had met her, Olivia Bretton seemed subdued. She had gone toe-to-toe with him on everything, but now that she was getting her way, she seemed to have shrunk.
“Do not wilt on me now,” he said. She raised her eyes to meet his, a question flitting through them. “When I first met you, I thought the desert would cause you to wither quickly enough. But you proved to me that first day that you were made of steel. Do not disappoint me now. Not when I have admitted to needing you.”
She straightened, some of the haughty defiance returning to her gaze. “I do not wilt.”
“Excellent. Wilting would be no use to either of us at this point.”
“You are aware that when we walk into that coronation we must look as though we are already a couple. You must be beyond reproach. You must instill absolute confidence in the stability of us as a couple. If you are looking to make us a figurehead, then we must be an infallible one. I have a reputation to stand on. The citizens of my country love me. The union will strengthen trade between Alansund and Tahar. It will be good for the economy, and will provide you with the semblance of experience.”
“That will entail you hanging on my arm, I suppose?”
“I think we can forgo dancing. I highly doubt anyone would fault you. But yes, we will need to look as though we are unified in every way. You will need a speech that outlines your plans for Tahar.”
“I do not have a speechwriter anymore. I fired him.”
“Do you...do you write?” she asked, her voice tentative.
“I do. Though it is not a skill I often use, I admit.”
“Perhaps we can work on this together. If you can lay out your plan, I can help make sure it reads well. You are well-spoken, I will say that for you.”
“Something to do with spending a lot of time alone, I think.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because,” he said, “I spent a lot of time speaking to myself. Keeping language was important to me, every language I learned from my father. I was quite careful with the gift he gave me.” He had often spoken into the emptiness. Run through the words that he might not use with frequency. Anything to make sure he didn’t lose the pieces of humanity that were still embedded in his soul. Like shards of glass, they were often uncomfortable, making them tempting to extract because they were at odds with why he had been out there in the desert. But still, he had clung to them. He was glad now.
Because now he needed it.
Too bad scattered shards were good for little when you were expected to present something unified.
“Good foresight anyway. It will come in handy later.”
“I live to be handy in your estimation, my queen.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” she said, smiling. It was a different smile than the one that crossed her lips when she spoke of her late husband. She was a nuanced creature. And he had never been good with nuance. Weapons of destruction weren’t known for nuance.
Her gaze flickered downward, and he could feel her
