The Royal House of Karedes: Two Crowns: The Sheikh's Forbidden Virgin / The Greek Billionaire's Innocent Princess / The Future King's Love-Child

The car pulled up to the palace on the edge of the Old Town, and a servant dressed in official livery came out to greet them. The man’s bland expression faltered for a moment as he took in Kalila’s appearance, for, though she’d repaired some of the damage, she was hardly the royal presence he’d expected.

She smiled and he swept a bow, launching into a formal speech of obsequious flattery that Kalila barely registered.

‘The Princess Kalila is much fatigued,’ Aarif said, not looking at her, and the servant straightened. ‘Please show her and her nurse to their rooms and afford them every comfort.’

And then, without a backward glance, he swept into the palace. Kalila watched his back disappear behind the ornate wooden doors and wondered when she would see him again. She had a feeling that Aarif would make every effort to avoid her.

She followed the servant into the palace, and a waiting maid led them up a sweeping staircase to the second floor, a narrow corridor of ancient stone with open windows, their Moorish arches framing a view of azure sky and endless sand.

Although the palace was situated in the island’s main city, Serapolis, on the edge of the Old Town, the women’s quarters faced the private gardens, a verdant oasis much like the one back in Zaraq, although, Kalila reflected from the window of her bedroom, not as familiar.

Everything was strange. Even she felt strange, a stranger to herself. She’d acted in ways she’d never imagined herself acting in the last twenty-four hours, and she had no idea what the repercussions would be, only that they would be severe and long lasting.

She sighed, a sound that came from the depths of her soul, and Juhanah looked at her in concern. ‘You must be tired. Let me run you a bath.’

Kalila nodded, grateful for her nurse’s tender concern. ‘Thank you, Juhanah.’

While Juhanah padded into the en suite bathroom, Kalila glanced around the bedroom that had been assigned her. It was a simple room, yet no less sumptuous for it. A wide bed with a white linen duvet, a cedar chest at its foot. A matching bureau and framed mirror, and two arched windows that framed the view of the gardens outside.

A few minutes later Kalila entered the bathroom, outfitted with every luxury from the sunken marble tub to the thick, fluffy towels, and sank into the hot, foaming water with a little sigh of relief. From behind the closed door she could hear Juhanah moving around, and realised her bags had arrived.

It felt good to wash the dirt and sand away, yet no amount of washing would make her feel clean again. Whole. Even now a pall of misery settled over her, into her bones, so that she wondered numbly if she would ever be apart from it—be herself—again.

Yet who was she? Caught between two worlds, two lives, two dreams. Duty. Desire. It had only been in Aarif’s arms, under his caress, that she’d felt whole. One. With him.

Juhanah knocked on the door. ‘All right, ya daanaya?’

‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she called. Her nurse’s maternal worrying was sweet, yet it also made Kalila feel guilty. She didn’t deserve Juhanah’s concern. What would her nurse say if she told her…?

Kalila closed her eyes. She wouldn’t tell her, wouldn’t tell anyone. And yet Aarif would tell someone. He’d said as much. He would tell his brother.

What had she been expecting to happen? she wondered. Had she thought Aarif would tell her he loved her, that everything had changed? Had she actually believed, even for a moment, that an hour or two of passion changed everything? Anything?

Yet it had seemed so much more than that. When she’d held him in her arms, felt his heart beating against hers, felt that they were one…

That was what she wanted, she realised. That was why her heart and mind resisted marriage to Calista’s king. She wanted love, and for a few moments it had felt as if she’d found it with Aarif.

You’re thinking you’ve fallen in love with me. His words that morning mocked her. How could she believe it was love when she barely knew him? And what she knew, she wasn’t entirely sure she liked.

He was hard, unrelenting, grim-faced, determined. Yet she’d seen flickers of humour, tenderness, need.

No, she didn’t love him, Kalila knew. Yet she wondered if she could.

She also wondered about the dream that had tormented him so, what horrible memory still held him in its grip. Understanding that memory, Kalila felt, would be a key to understanding Aarif.

Yet how could she understand him when he would spend the next few weeks avoiding her at all costs? And, she reminded herself bleakly, when she was still engaged to his brother?

The water had grown cold and Kalila soaped herself quickly, her hands suddenly stilling on her flat belly. Yet another repercussion of those few moments with Aarif occurred to her with icy shock.

Pregnancy. A baby.

Aarif’s child.

Yet even as her lips curved in a helpless smile at that thought, her mind recognised the disastrous consequences of such a possibility. A royal bastard, conceived before she’d even been married.

Of course, Kalila knew, Zakari could think the baby was his, conceived on their still-to-be wedding night, but if Aarif told him—

She closed her eyes again. This was such a mess. A mess, a mistake, and she had no idea how to fix it or where to begin. She thrust the thoughts away, all of them, to untangle later. It was too much to deal with now, and Kalila had a feeling it would always be too much.

The bath had made her sleepy, and when Kalila emerged from the bathroom swathed in a robe and saw the wide, comfortable bed with the duvet turned down, it seemed only natural to slip between the crisp, clean sheets and let herself be lulled to sleep by the lazy whirring of the ceiling fan. The last sound she heard was the gentle click of the door as Juhanah let herself out.

When she awoke to the sound of a knock on the door, the sun was low in the sky, the room cast in shadow, the air sultry and still. Kalila pushed the hair out of her eyes and called, ‘Juhanah?’

‘Yes, Princess,’ Juhanah replied, and entered. Kalila watched her nurse bustle around the room, a fixed smile on her face, yet something had clearly ruffled her.

Kalila sat up in bed. ‘What time is it?’

‘Past five o’clock,’ Juhanah replied.

‘When are we to dine?’

Juhanah pursed her lips briefly before replying, ‘Prince Aarif has suggested we eat privately tonight, here in your rooms. He said the journey will have fatigued you too much to bear a formal meal.’

Kalila’s lips twitched at Juhanah’s barely disguised expression of outrage at this perceived slight. ‘How very thoughtful of him,’ she said dryly, knowing full well why Aarif would issue such a suggestion.

‘Indeed,’ Juhanah agreed huffily, ‘although hardly a fitting reception for a royal princess!’

Kalila shrugged. ‘I don’t—’

‘Of course you don’t mind,’ Juhanah cut her off, clearly too outraged to let her complaints go unspoken. ‘You are young and easily pleased. But I do not know what to think of a palace that is shut up like a box with no one inside, no one to greet you but a lowly servant—’

‘Actually, he looked quite important—’

‘Pfft!’ Juhanah made a dismissive gesture with her hand. ‘It is not right.’

‘You must remember there has been a great deal of upheaval in the royal family,’ Kalila replied, the words as much a reminder to herself as to Juhanah. ‘With King Aegeus of Aristo dying, and the rumours of the missing diamond—’

‘And is that where they all are? On a wild goose chase for some jewel?’ Hands on hips, Juhanah looked thoroughly disgruntled, and Kalila found herself smiling, her heart suddenly, surprisingly light.

She rose to embrace her nurse, who returned the hug with some surprise. Kalila had never been an overly affectionate child, yet now she felt a rush of gratitude, a need for touch. ‘I’m glad you’re here, Juhanah,’ she said. ‘I don’t think I could bear this all alone.’

Juhanah patted her head, stroking the tangled curls. ‘And you shouldn’t have to. I shall stay in Calista as long as you want me, ya daanaya.’

‘Thank you,’ Kalila whispered, and felt a sudden wave of homesickness, followed by the sting of unexpected tears. She choked them both back down and moved away. ‘Even if we’re dining right here, I should dress,’ she said, and opened the bureau where Juhanah had already put away her clothes.

A short while later a servant wheeled in a domed trolley with a three-course meal set on porcelain plates. Even if most of the royal family was not in residence, the cook clearly was and after twenty-four hours of riding rations Kalila was grateful for the rich offerings: sweet peppers stuffed with lamb, a tangine of chickpeas and tomatoes, and semolina cakes made with dates and cinnamon.

After the meal had been cleared away, Kalila told Juhanah she was sleepy again and the nurse retired to her own room.