Gambling With the Crown(77)

                The interpreter finished speaking and the council started to murmur. She couldn’t tell if it was an angry murmur or what because her blood hummed too loudly in her ears. She couldn’t drag her gaze away from Kadir, though she desperately wanted to. She was just like all those other women, wanting him so much, wanting to believe everything he said, reading more into it than there was.

                “There is another solution,” Kadir continued, this time turning to face the room. He held her hand tightly in his. “My brother, Rashid, can take the throne. He is the eldest. He has no wife. His business is oil, whereas mine is building skyscrapers. A good skill, but not quite the one Kyr needs.”

                Rashid stood, tight-lipped and furious, but he did not speak. His arms were folded over his chest and he glared at them both. Emily knew then that this performance was as much for Rashid as for the council.

                Kadir led her down the stairs and over to Rashid. His gaze flickered over her but stayed on Kadir.

                “I have seen his last decrees, Rashid. He did not name his successor. He was stubborn to the last.”

                “He wanted us to fight over it, then.” Rashid sounded bitter.

                “Or maybe he decided to let us choose.”

                Rashid’s snort said he didn’t believe it for a moment. “If that gives you comfort, brother.”

                “It does not. But I know in my heart that you are Kyr’s king. And I am your faithful servant.”

                Rashid’s eyes blazed with fresh agony. “Kadir—”

                “Take your place, Rashid. Take your nation and be the king you were meant to be.”

                The two men stared at each other for a long moment. And then Rashid looked over at her and Emily’s belly churned.

                “You truly love this woman?”

                “With every atom of my being.”

                Emily couldn’t stop the sob that choked out of her then. Both men were looking at her. Kadir seemed alarmed.

                “Sorry,” she said, yanking her hand from his. “I can’t—I can’t...”

                She rushed toward the door and yanked it open and then she was running blindly down the hall in her too-tall shoes. She tripped and stumbled, catching herself against the wall. Then she reached down and ripped off the shoes, tossing them so she could run barefoot through the palace.

                “Emily!”

                Kadir’s voice behind her sounded frantic, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. She kept running, past people who stopped and stared, past servants and deliverymen, past the dignitaries who were gathering in Kyr for the old king’s funeral. Tears streaked down her cheeks, blurred her vision, but she kept running until she burst into an outdoor gallery that flanked a giant grassy courtyard ringed by palm trees. Water tinkled in a fountain at the center of the courtyard, an extravagance in the desert.

                “Emily.”

                She spun to find Kadir behind her. The moonlight on his face revealed confusion and apprehension. Or maybe it was just a trick of the light. Maybe it was what she wanted instead of what was.

                She backed away, hitting the lip of the fountain. Somehow she managed not to fall in, but what did it matter? Her dignity was already ruined. She’d burst into tears in front of him, in front of them all, and she’d failed in her performance as his wife when he’d needed it most.