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THE TRUE KING OF DAHAAR(43)

By:TARA PAMMI


                Ayaan shook his head, refusing to let her finish. “You promised me, Nikhat. You gave me your word—”

                “Yes, to help him,” she burst out.

                She held his gaze, saw the threat that rose to his lips.

                Fear rattled inside her. She was antagonizing the future King, the man who could crash her dreams in Dahaar with one word. And for all his kindness, she had no doubt Ayaan would do anything to keep his brother close.

                But even with her future hanging in the balance, she couldn’t back down from her promise to Azeez. She took a deep breath, wondering why she even put up a fight with herself. Nothing was ever simple, ever free of emotions when it came to Azeez Al Sharif. “I’m sorry I didn’t make this clear sooner. But Azeez will always have my loyalty first.”

                “Then you seal your fate along with his.”

                “It would seem so.” Nikhat nodded at him and Princess Zohra and left the hall with her head held high.

                * * *

                He was creeping through his own palace like a thief of the night, but he had left himself no choice. Behind him, the deserted corridor was bathed in yellow light from the lamps. He chanced a look at the courtyard, and the utter silence in there, in this whole wing, jeered him.

                Azeez leaned his head against the closed door and struggled to get air into his lungs. He couldn’t hide forever from this. He nodded at Khaleef to open the door, and another figure appeared in the corridor and joined him.

                Instead of recoiling, as everything inside him was wont to do, he let Nikhat lace her fingers with his. He didn’t question how she knew that he was standing outside Amira’s door at the first light of dawn, or how terrified he was of facing this day.

                The palace was not the same without his sister’s laughter. But he had to apologize to her and he wanted to do it here, in her suite where she had laughed and cried, where she had lived such a vibrant life before his recklessness had shortened it.

                He pushed the door and stepped in. The scent of Amira as he remembered—roses and something sweet—hit him in the gut. His knees buckled and tears clogged his throat, and he let them fall.

                As Nikhat turned on the light, he walked around the huge chamber where everything had been left as it was before her death. Her jewelry lay haphazardly on the dark dresser, her nightstand overflowing with novels.

                How he wished he could change his reckless behavior all those years ago, how he wished he had realized sooner that Amira and Ayaan had stayed back to confront him that night in the desert, how he wished he had taken the bullet that had claimed her life…

                Her arm clamped around his middle, Nikhat hugged him tightly. And for once, he couldn’t find it in him to push her or the comfort she offered away. They stood like that for several minutes, drowning in memories but anchoring each other.

                “Do you remember the time you complained that your prized bottle of single-malt whiskey had disappeared?”

                Frowning, he nodded.

                “You raised hell about it, turned the palace upside down. For so many days, I remember seeing the palace staff whispering, scared to tell you that they hadn’t found it. It was like martial law had been declared in the palace.”

                He turned toward her. “What are you talking about, Nikhat?”

                “Amira paid one of the maids to steal it.” She made a choking noise with her throat and stepped back as he advanced on her. Her hands up in front of her, her head shaking, her mouth wreathed in smiles.