Her desire for distance surprised him. Stung, even. He was used to her turning to him for the least thing. He liked it.
“What was it about?” he insisted. “Tell me.”
* * *
She couldn’t. She was barely making sense of it herself. She wasn’t even sure if it was a genuine memory. Dreams were pure imagination, weren’t they?
Clenching her eyes shut, she tried to recall her mother’s boudoir. Her bookshelves. Was it possible the lioness she had pictured so clearly had been conjured by the curiosity that was plaguing her? She wanted to know who her mother’s lover had been, so she was inventing scenarios in her sleep.
Or was it real? The palace of her childhood was full of objets d’art. Masterpieces in oil, ivory, ceramic and yes, some were sculptures cast in gold. Could she mentally picture all of them? Of course not, especially the ones that had been in her parents’ private rooms. She hadn’t entered those much at all.
But she had gone to her mother that one afternoon, ahead of the children’s hospital ball. That was a real memory. She distinctly remembered it because the ball had fallen right after her birthday. The pink gown had been a present to herself, one she had been certain her mother would approve of.
None of that was the reason she could hardly catch her breath, however.
What if it is true? What if her mother had owned the other side of Karim’s father’s lion bookend? Did that prove Karim’s father had been her lover? Or was it a bizarre coincidence?
“Galila.”
Karim’s tone demanded she obey him.
She opened her eyes and searched his gaze, but couldn’t bring herself to ask if it was possible. How would he know? He’d been a child. And the suspicion was so awful, such a betrayal to his mother, she didn’t want to speculate about it herself, let alone put it on him to wonder.
What would such an accusation do to this tentative connection they had formed? She couldn’t bear to lose what was growing between them. He had married her to be a link between their two countries, not the catalyst for a rift that couldn’t be mended.
With lashes wet with helplessness, she said very truthfully, “I don’t want to think of it.” She held out her hand. “Make love to me,” she whispered. “Make me forget.”
He was too sharp not to recognize she was putting him off, but he let her plaster herself across his front and draw his head down to kiss him.
Within seconds, he took command of their lovemaking, taking her back to bed where they were both urgent in a way that was new and agonizing, as if he felt the pull of conflict within her. Impending doom. He dragged his mouth down her body, pleasured her to screaming pitch and kept her on the edge of ecstasy, then rolled her onto her knees. She gripped the headboard in desperate hands as he thrust into her from behind, but even after she shuddered in release, he wasn’t done. He aroused her all over again, his own body taut and hotter than a branding iron when he finally settled over her and drew her thighs to his waist.
Now he was everything, her entire world, filling her, possessing her, driving her to new heights that they reached together, so intense she sobbed in glory.
Spent, she fell asleep in his arms, clinging to his damp body as if he could save her from her own subconscious.
But the lioness stalked her into the morning light.
When she woke, she knew what she had to do.
* * *
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Karim asked twice over breakfast. It was usually a private meal now. He let their aids in when they were nursing their second cup of coffee, rarely before. “You’ll feel better if you talk it out.”
“It’s silly,” she prevaricated, but couldn’t find the dismissive smile she needed. “Just a silly dream.”
He knew she was lying to him. She could tell by the grim frown overshadowing his stern gaze. It chilled her heart to disappoint him and even worse, deserve his consternation.
“I don’t want to relive it,” she said, miserable at not being able to share.
His mouth twitched with dismay, but he let the subject drop. A few minutes later, he rose to start his day.
When she was certain he was on the far side of the palace, she texted Niesha, Zufar’s wife and the new Queen of Khalia. With so much going on, she had barely absorbed her brother’s email yesterday concerning his new wife and the startling possibility she could be the lost Princess of Rumadah.
It wouldn’t have surprised her in the least if Niesha hadn’t returned her message, preferring to take time to absorb her own life changes, but she video-called Galila a short time later. Galila dismissed the maid in her room and answered, forcing herself to strike a casual pose on the end of a sofa, as if she wasn’t wound so tightly with nerves she was ready to snap. It took everything in her to get through a few gentle inquiries after Niesha’s situation and well-being.
“Thank you so much for calling me back,” Galila said when she felt she could steer the conversation to her own interests. “I don’t know what made me think of a particular keepsake of my mother’s, but I wondered if it was on the shelf in your room? Would you be able to show me? It’s an ebony bookend with a lioness cast in gold.”
“I’m so sorry,” Niesha said. “All her rooms have been completely redecorated, but your mother’s things were boxed up and put into storage. Nothing was discarded. It’s all safe.”
“No apology is necessary. Of course, you made it your own.” Galila spared a brief thought for how odd it must be for Niesha to be living as a queen, rather than a maid. They were equals now and Galila had to remember that, but she was fixated on learning the truth. “Do you recall seeing a bookend with a lioness, though?”
“I don’t recall it, no. Let me check with Zufar. I’m sure he’ll agree you should be the one to have her things. I’ll have them shipped to you.”
It wasn’t exactly the answer she wanted. Galila had hoped to solve the mystery in seconds. Instead, she had to act like it was a trifling thing, not an obsessive worry.
“Whenever you have time,” she said with a flick of her hand. “I don’t want to disturb you when you have so much going on.”
The more Galila thought about it, however, the more she was convinced that Karim’s father, King Jamil, had been her mother’s lover. The timing fit with Adir’s age and her own father’s diplomatic tour. A brief glance at Zyria’s history online confirmed that Karim’s father had died very shortly after her father had returned to Zyria.
Had his death been a catalyst for her mother telling her father about her pregnancy? Had Jamil’s accident even been an accident?
She couldn’t help dwelling on every possibility as she waited for the boxes to arrive.
What if Karim’s father had been her mother’s lover? That would mean Adir was Karim’s half brother, too. How would he react to that news?
Not that she could burden him with any of this. Definitely not until she had more evidence than a spooky dream.
But if it did turn out to be true, was it wise to tell him? He would have to keep it from his mother, who still held Jamil so close to her heart. What of the political ramifications? Zufar was already dealing with an embittered man who blamed him for the loss of his birthright. She couldn’t subject Karim to the same.
A sensible woman would leave the mystery unsolved, but she couldn’t let it go. At the same time, keeping all of this inside her was like trying to ignore an abscess. It throbbed and ached in the back of her throat, flaring up and subsiding as she pretended to Karim that she was fine, all the while waiting on tenterhooks for news that the shipment of boxes had arrived.
A week later, rather than bother Niesha again, she had her assistant speak to the palace in Khalia. The boxes had finally left and should arrive in a day or two.
Somehow, knowing they were on their way was far worse than if they hadn’t left.
* * *
“Should I cancel our dinner engagement tonight?” Karim asked over breakfast.
“Pardon?” Galila’s gaze came back from staring at nothing and focused on him. She seemed to become aware that her coffee was halfway to her mouth and set it down without tasting it. “Why would you do that?” she asked.
Because she had been positively vacant the last few days. He wanted to know why. This was usually her favorite time of day, when she had him all to herself. She usually flirted and chattered, reminded him to call his mother and asked if he had any preferences for upcoming menu choices. She might sidle up to his chair and kiss him if she was feeling particularly sensual.
She’d become downright remote of late, though.
He hated it.
“You’re not yourself. Is there something we should discuss?”
“What? No! I’m completely fine.” A blatant lie. “Just...distracted. Should I let the staff in?” She rose to do it.
“Does it have to do with Adir? Because I have news.”
“You do?” She swung back, interest sharp.
“He married Amira. She’s expecting. Sooner than one would anticipate, given she was supposed to marry your brother a month ago,” he added drily. “My reports are that they’re quite happy.”
“Oh. I thought she must have had some sort of relationship with him, to be willing to go with him like that. It’s good to know she’s well.” She stood with her hands linked before her, still taking it in, chewing her lip and pleating her brow. “That’s all you learned?”