she wouldn’t recognize him. For just a moment his mind went blank. Then, before he could calmly and rationally consider what he should do, he heard himself saying, “I am your fiancé, Tahra.”
He gently raised her left hand so she could see the old-fashioned engagement ring he’d placed there, a large pearl surrounded by diamonds in an antique setting, a ring that had been in his family for more than two hundred years. The ring she’d first accepted...then returned. “We are engaged.”
“We are?” Her eyes squeezed shut and her lips moved silently. When she finally looked at him again, there was a bewildered expression on her face. “I don’t remember. Why don’t I remember?” When he just shook his head at her, unable to answer, she pleaded, “Your name. Tell me your name.”
“Marek. Marek Zale. Captain in the Zakharian National Forces, on detached status. I am the head of security for the crown prince.” He watched closely for a sign that his name or occupation might mean something to her, but they didn’t.
“Marek.” His name on Tahra’s lips was soft and sweet, and Marek’s heart ached for all the times she’d uttered it before in exactly the same way. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed deeply. “I’m sorry,” she said after a minute. “I don’t remember you.” And he could tell by the poignant catch in her voice that she really was sorry. Then to his amazement her eyes fluttered closed. “Marek,” she whispered, “I’m so sorry.” Her breathing slowed until he knew without a doubt she was asleep again.
“Oh, Tahra.” Her name was torn from his throat, and he touched her cheek with fingers that trembled.
* * *
Marek was waiting outside Tahra’s door when her sister showed up punctually at seven, the exact time she’d told him last night she would arrive. “We need to talk,” he told Carly urgently. He glanced at the two guards standing at attention on either side of the door, who were due to be relieved at eight. “Privately.”
“We can’t talk in there?” Carly asked, pointing toward Tahra’s room. He shook his head. “Well, can I at least go in and see her first?”
“She is sleeping, but she is no longer in a coma. She woke around three this morning, and we spoke for a few minutes. That is what I must discuss with you.”
“Tahra’s no longer in a coma?” she asked eagerly. “That’s great news! Why didn’t you call me immediately?”
He held out his hand, indicating the waiting room at the end of the corridor they’d used last night for their private conversation. “Please.”
They’d no sooner seated themselves in a secluded corner when Carly said, “Something’s wrong. Hemorrhage? Stroke?” Her lips tightened. “Just tell me straight-out—I won’t fall apart, I promise you.” Her quickened breathing was the only indication she wasn’t as calm as she appeared.
“No, nothing like that,” Marek assured her. “But I spoke with Tahra’s doctors an hour ago. They examined her again and questioned her minutely. Physically she is fine. Still in great pain, of course, but nothing that will not heal.”
“Then what? She doesn’t remember the explosion, is that it?” Carly shot at him. “It’s not all that unusual, you know. People’s brains often block out traumatic events, and—”
Marek cut her off. “It is not just that,” he said vehemently. “Tahra remembers nothing of the past eighteen months...including me.”
* * *
Sergeant Thimo Vasska saluted his superior officer, and when told to stand at ease he did so. “What news do you have to report, Sergeant?” the lieutenant asked.
“She is being closely guarded. She had not regained consciousness as of last night, but the nurse’s aide I bribed for information said the doctors had lessened her morphine dosage, preparatory to bringing her out of the medically induced coma. So—”
“So she could wake up at any time,” said Colonel Damek Borka from the doorway.
The sergeant and the lieutenant both jumped, then turned and saluted the founder and supreme commander of the Zakharian Liberation Front.
The sergeant cleared his throat. “I have taken steps to ensure she will never awaken.”
“How, if she is being closely guarded?”
“There will be an unfortunate mix-up with her morphine drip,” the sergeant explained. “It was not cheap—the aide was greedy and time was short. But the money will come out of my own pocket,” he rushed to add.
“Since it was your mistake to begin with,” the colonel said in icy tones, “I never assumed otherwise.”
* * *
“You did what?” Carly demanded, and Marek couldn’t really blame her. He could hardly believe it himself.
“I told Tahra we are engaged,” he repeated. “I cannot tell you why I said it, unless subconsciously I believed it. But I must ask you not to contradict my statement.”
Carly stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “You can’t possibly think I’m going to lie to my sister.”
“Not lie. Just do not disabuse her mind of the notion that I have the right to look after her, both here in the hospital and once she is discharged.”
“You’re crazy if you think—”
“To protect her. That is all I am asking.”
She made a gesture of frustration. “I can take Tahra back to the States. She’d be safe there.”
He shook his head. “Even the United States is not immune to acts of terrorism—you of all people must know this. We know almost nothing of the organization that set the bombs. Ergo, one or more of these men could easily slip into the US, kill Tahra and slip out again before anyone was aware.” Icy determination speared through him. “That is not going to happen to Tahra, even if I die for it. I give you my word, I will not take advantage of the situation. Tahra will be as safe with me as—” He broke off, then finished, “As you could wish her to be.”
“Protecting Tahra doesn’t require lying to her.”
“No,” Marek agreed. “But only I know the memories she is missing. For the past year and a half she and I... That is, I know what her life has been here in Zakhar. I know who she knows, I know who her friends are. Can you say the same?”
Carly shook her head.
“It is also possible that being in close proximity to me will trigger something and those missing memories will return. We were nearly inseparable for most of the past eighteen months, and despite what you might think, Ms. Edwards, the fact that Tahra and I are not truly engaged is a mistake I had every intention of rectifying. When I first proposed, she accepted. Did she tell you that?” He didn’t wait for a response. “It was only later, when I revealed—”
“She told me.”
He continued with barely a pause. “Then you know why she returned my engagement ring. But you cannot think I would leave it at that. I was merely giving Tahra time to come to terms with it. But then this terrorist
