THE TRUE KING OF DAHAAR(11)

                “Ya Allah, stop looking at me like that.” His low growl rumbled over the silent courtyard.

                “How am I looking at you?” she said, tucking her feet beneath her legs.

                He leaned his head back, giving her a perfect view of the strong column of his neck. Even dressed in the most casual clothes, he epitomized supreme male arrogance and confidence that had always messed with her usually practical personality. And continued to do so, if she was ready to admit the truth. “Like you cannot stop, like you want to eat me up alive.”

                The heat rising through her cheeks had nothing to do with the sun. “That’s not true.”

                He leaned forward, his gaze thoughtful. “Yes, it is. There’s a temerity in your gaze now. You always knew your own mind, but now, it’s like your body has caught up.”

                She shrugged, holding herself tight and still under his scrutiny. The look he cast in her direction was thorough. “I’m not a shy twenty-two-year-old anymore.”

                “I can see that.” A lick of something came alive in his gaze. “I can almost see you staring down your patients into good health.”

                She laughed, half to hide the little tremble that went through her. “I do have a reputation as the scary doctor. If only things could be fixed so simply. And you’re right. I can’t stop looking at you. I can’t stop wondering what in Allah’s name you think you’re doing to yourself.”

                His jaw tightened, his nostrils flared.

                For anyone looking from afar, they would seem like two old friends chatting up each other. And yet the courtyard felt like a minefield. She had to take every step carefully with him. And not because she was scared of him, but of herself.

                Her stupid midnight jaunt had already proved her brain wasn’t functioning at its normal, rational level.

                He ran his palm over his jaw, his gaze never moving from her. “Is it true?”

                “Is what true?”

                “The palace has been ringing with it. And apparently, it is the first time in three days that you have a minute to yourself.”

                “So you’re not completely oblivious to the world around you? That’s always a good sign.”

                “Don’t show off your credentials with me, Nikhat. Is Princess Zohra having complications with the pregnancy?”

                There was no nuance to his words. She had no idea if he was worried for the Princess, no way to gauge how deep the emptiness in him was. And more than anything, the very thought she might not be of any use to him scared her. “Yes.”

                “How serious is it?”

                “I have ordered some more tests for her. Her blood pressure is at dangerous levels. She needs rest and she needs to take it easy. Stress is adding to her complications. From what I’ve seen in the last two days, you’re at the root of it.”

                “Just because I punched her husband?”

                “You punched Ayaan? Why?”

                Because Ayaan had brought her here, the answer came to her in the taut silence.

                Do you hate me so much?

                The pathetic, self-indulgent question lingered on her lips. But there was no point in asking it. There was no point in giving the past even a passing thought.