Page 62 of Her Arabian King

But this, too, slipped past her lips, and laughter rang out in the throne room.

Harper pretended not to notice her court tutor glaring at her. She was so dead.

From the other throne, the sheikh bent close, saying solemnly, “I will plead your case to your court tutor if you wish.”

“No, thanks.” Knowing him, he would just dig a bigger grave for her.

The sheikh took hold of her hand and frowned at how cold it was to touch. “You are afraid of the results?”

She avoided his gaze, mumbling, “I don’t want you to stop being king because of me.”

“And I don’t want to stop being your husband because of the throne.” The sheikh brought her hand to his lips. “It will be fine, qalifa. Trust me.”

“I do. It’s just that stu—-” Shit. She hurriedly corrected herself, saying, “It’s the council I don’t trust.” Harper bit her lip. “Are you sure everyone who could help you get votes has come?”

The sheikh paused. “Well, there is one representative from Japan that I am waiting for to arrive tonight.”

“Japan? Really?” Harper knew she should no longer be surprised at how far-reaching the sheikh’s network was, but she couldn’t help it.

“I am good friends with the Himura family,” the sheikh said.

It was an entirely innocuous statement, save for an unintended effect on two women who happened to overhear the royal couple’s conversation.

Lace took one look at her friend’s face and quickly grabbed KC’s hand and dragged her towards the nearest restroom. And a good thing she did, since they barely made it in time, with KC throwing up the moment she reached the sink.

“Sorry,” Lace whispered guiltily as she held her friend’s hair away from her face while KC continued to make the most horrible retching sounds. “I didn’t know...” She almost slipped, mentioning Yuki Himura’s name, but she managed to stop herself in time.

Outside the restroom, resounding cheers had filled the throne room, with the results finally being announced and the council had voted 120-o in favor of Khalil Al-Atassi remaining Ramil’s king and forever eliminating any possibility of his abdication.

The soldiers assigned to the throne room began chanting.

Long live King Khalil!

Long live Queen Harper!

And when the palace’s PA system began to play the kingdom’s national anthem, the cheers became so raucous that Altair shook his head in a mixture of exasperation and amusement before dismissing his soldiers and granting them an impromptu holiday.

“Where’s the celebrating couple anyway?” Rayyan was the first one to think of asking.

A search was conducted, but it quickly became apparent that the royal couple was nowhere to be found.

“Pretty sure they escaped to fuck,” Staffan Aehrenthal said slyly to his wife.

The other billionaires who overheard this nodded in agreement while their wives tried not to blush.

“Question is,” Jaak de Konigh murmured laconically, “where would they go?”

“The hallways are out of the question, since they’re teeming with reporters,” Damen mused.

“The restroom?” Nathan Callis asked.

“I just came from there,” Silver March answered, “and only Lace and KC were in there.”

“Interesting conundrum,” Misha Grachyov murmured. “But since I doubt they’d brave the crowd to fuck, they have to be here somewhere—-”

A sudden, hard thud coming from the little-noticed tool closet at the back of the throne caught everyone’s notice.

A moment later, something that suspiciously sounded like a half-formed whimper followed, like someone trying not to make any noise.

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