Gone were the ornate furnishings and narcissistic portraits, the statuary, the huge bed on a platform complete with heavy damask draperies. In their place, Rashid had asked for clean lines, comfortable furniture, paintings that didn’t overwhelm with color or subject matter and breezy fabrics more in fitting with the desert. Certainly the desert was bitterly cold at night, but he didn’t need damask draperies for that.
The palace had been modernized years ago and had working air and heat for those rare occasions when it was needed. Rashid slipped his headdress off and dropped it on a couch. Then he raked his hand through his hair and pulled out his phone. He stared at it for a long moment before he punched the button that would call up his favorites.
Kadir answered on the third ring. “Rashid, it’s good to hear from you.”
“Salaam, brother.” He chewed the inside of his lip and stared off toward the dunes and the setting sun. It blazed bright orange as it sank like a stone. He’d debated for hours on whether or not to call Kadir. They weren’t as close as they’d once been, and he found it hard to admit he needed people. “How are you?”
Kadir laughed. “Wonderful. Happy. Ecstatic.”
“Marriage agrees with you.” He tried not to let any bitterness slip into his voice, but he feared it did anyway. Still, Kadir took it like a blissfully happy man would: as the uninformed judgment of a bachelor.
“Apparently so. Emily keeps me on my toes. But she forces me to eat kale, Rashid. Because it has micronutrients or some such thing, she says it’s good for me.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.” It sounded horrible.
“She makes a healthy drink for breakfast. It’s green. Looks disgusting, but thankfully doesn’t taste as bad as it looks.” He sighed. “I miss pancakes and bacon.”
Rashid was familiar with pancakes, though he’d never developed a taste for them during the brief time he’d spent in America. He almost laughed, but then he thought of Daria cooking meals for him and swallowed. She used to make these wonderful savory pies from her native Ural Mountains. He’d loved them. He’d loved her.
Rashid swallowed. “I want you to build a skyscraper for me, Kadir.”
He could practically hear Kadir’s brain kick into gear. “You do? Is this a Kyrian project, or a personal one?”
“I need a building for Hassan Oil in Kyr. I want you to build it.”
“Then I am happy to do so. Let me check the schedule and I’ll see when we can come for a meeting.”
“That would be good.”
Kadir sighed, as if sensing there was more to the call. “I will come anyway, Rashid, if you wish it.”
He did wish it. For the first time in a long time, he wanted a friend. And Kadir was the closest thing he had. But a lifetime of shutting people out was hard to overcome. He’d let in Daria, but look how that had turned out.
“Whenever you can make it is good. I’m busy with many things since you left.”
“I’m sorry we didn’t make the coronation. It was my intention, and then—”
“It’s fine.” He pulled in a breath. “Kadir, there is something I want to talk about.”
“Then I will come immediately.”