But that was then and this was now.
Maia had brought her up and brought her up strong. And she had to be strong now, for her. She turned around to see a woman waiting discreetly behind her. The woman bowed, waiting for Lucy to come with her. She had no choice; she had to find Maia. She smiled uncertainly and went over to the waiting woman.
Alex and the research team may have got what they needed from the King but, for her, the quest was only just beginning.
CHAPTER THREE
Razeen tried to focus on his advisor’s report on the economic reforms he’d implemented, but his mind was full of the woman in the black abaya, whose eyes held a challenge and attraction like none he could remember.
“Your Majesty, everything is on track, but—”
His advisor’s hesitation brought Razeen’s mind back to his current problems. “None of it’s working, is it?”
His advisor examined the papers in his hands. “No, Your Majesty, it’s not. Everything is in place; on paper the systems and procedures are workable but, the people… the people are not yet behind it.”
Razeen sighed. “And until they are, we don’t stand a chance of implementing these reforms, do we?”
The advisor shook his head in silent agreement.
“What is it they want?”
The advisor coughed. “Your Majesty…”
Razeen winced at the title. His attempts at informality within the palace had been met with stony resistance and he’d soon returned to the formality of his father’s reign.
“Najib, just tell me what you think will work, tell me how you believe we can move on from here. You knew my father, you knew my brother, what would they have done?”
The older man, his weathered face settled in deep vertical lines, pushed up his spectacles and peered at Razeen, blinking. His intelligent, astute eyes were full of doubt. Razeen understood the doubt. Both his father and brother had been raised to take on the traditional role of King of their country. Razeen hadn’t.
“The people want a King who is a true leader—a sheikh. The people need reform—that you have given them—but they want a traditional sheikh, with a traditional family. Then, I believe they will accept the reforms.”
“A traditional family,” Razeen scoffed. “A traditional wife you mean. I’ve been seen in every tabloid newspaper, in every country, with every new model on my arm. I’m not exactly known for tradition.”
“I do not believe the people will care. In fact, someone who turns their back on the West in favor of traditional values will be seen to vindicate their way of life. Give them yourself, reformed, and you can bring the country into the twenty-first century, you can bring prosperity to the people once more.”
“Myself, reformed.”
He closed his eyes and tried to rid himself of the image of green eyes, a heart-shaped face and wayward strands sun-streaked honey-brown hair that had escaped the hijab; he tried to eradicate the memory of her lips upon his, but it didn’t work. He opened his eyes, feeling anger and frustration in every cell of his body at what might have been. But “what might have been”—his ability to choose what he wanted from life—had died along with his brother.
“Myself, married.” Of all the things he’d anticipated in the first twenty-eight years of his life, an arranged marriage was not one of them. “I suppose I’m unable to choose.”
“Of course you may choose. We have already compiled a selection for you to choose from.” The old man’s eyes lit up with excitement. “It is the best decision, Your Majesty. There are a number of young women from the most distinguished Sitran families who would be suitable. Their alliance would guarantee you support from key tribes. It will be the most effective strategy you can adopt to secure your country’s future.”
Razeen rose and walked over to the window that overlooked the city. It lay, spread before him, its subtle tones of sand and terra cotta sharply juxtaposed against the stunning brilliance of the aqua sea. But the beauty was a mask to the corruption and disorganization that was crippling his country’s wealth. The only way forward was to gain the support of the people with the power—the country’s old elite—and the affection of a people whose life was centered on tradition. The only way.
“Make the arrangements.” His mind flicked back to Lucy once more. She was here now. She’d be gone within weeks and he’d be left with years of duty and responsibility. “But I want my diary cleared of all but the most urgent meetings for two weeks.” He sighed deeply, feeling the burden of his duty more oppressively than he’d ever done before. “No functions, no introductions, no meetings other than essential ones, for two weeks.” His advisor bowed his head in acceptance. And Razeen closed his eyes in regret.