Page 2 of Modern Romance November 2024 5-8

‘Oh, Sahir...’ Mother was breathless as she reached the top. ‘Give me a moment.’ She caught her breath as Sahir spread out the rug and blankets he had brought up earlier. ‘It looks wonderful.’ She smiled. ‘Look at all the treats you have brought. It is good for you to learn to do this without servants...’

‘I make my own bed at school,’ he said, opening the hamper he had carried up the cliff steps and pouring her some iced tea. ‘Here.’

‘Thank you.’ She drank it thirstily. ‘What I am saying is that it is good to know these special places.’

Sahir resisted rolling his eyes. Last year they had climbed dusty palace stairwells, the year before they had explored caves... ‘The places you take me to are practically inaccessible.’

‘Exactly.’ Mother smiled. ‘So you can do things without others always knowing. You might want a little privacy one day...’

Mother was a fine one to talk about privacy, Sahir thought as they sat drinking iced tea and eating the delicacies Sahir had sourced while they made small talk. Or rather, while Mother attempted to squeeze conversation from her thirteen-year-old son, talking about his life in London and his school subjects, trying to find out about his friends.

‘It’s a shame Carter didn’t come this year.’

‘He’s spending the summer in Borneo with his grandfather.’

‘Poor Carter. To lose all his family like that...’ She gave a pensive sigh. ‘Does he speak of them?’

‘No.’ Sahir shook his head. ‘He never has.’

Years ago, his friend Carter’s mother and baby brother had been killed in a crocodile attack—his father had perished attempting to save them. Sahir only knew what had been said at school or in the press. His friend had never discussed it. Not even once.

‘Sometimes it’s as if he’s forgotten them.’

‘He hasn’t,’ Mother said with certainty. ‘Be there for him, Sahir. Always invite him to join us for holidays and celebrations. Speak their names...’

‘I’ve tried.’

‘You’ll know when the time is right.’

The desert was like an orange fire behind the palace, and the ocean was pounding on the rocks below. Sahir looked to the city skyline beyond.

Janana was a land of contrasts...beautiful and fierce, delicate and wild, mighty yet conversely fragile.

Sahir knew his history, and even if his father was distant and remote he was fiercely proud of him. King Babek of Janana had fought long and hard to have a thriving capital and CBD, with state-of-the-art hospitals, hotels and designer shops, even though the elders and council had been strongly opposed.

For his mother, Queen Anousheh, it was the ancient city and the desert that were her passion.

They both gazed towards the palace, taking in the magnificence of the ancient citadel. From this vantage point thesetarah—star structure—was evident, but not so the hidden passages and stairs that led to the unroofed centre tower—outwardly bland, glorious within—with its view of the night sky the jewel.

The palace, though a sight to behold, bore the scars of history. Centuries ago an earthquake had devastated Janana, razing buildings, wiping out villages. The fracture had stretched to the palace, where an entire wing had been reduced to rubble, killing the then Queen as well as many palace staff.

Shortly after the earthquake the King had taken his own life, throwing the beleaguered country into further chaos and turmoil. In consequence the lineage had changed, and so had some of the marital laws. New legislation had been put in place to ensure such a tragedy could never befall the country again. Any future king or queen must have but one passion—the Kingdom of Janana.

Love was for commoners, not their rulers.

‘It is such an eyesore,’ Mother said, following Sahir’s gaze to the destroyed wing.

‘It serves as a reminder,’ Sahir responded, repeating his teachings. ‘A ruler’s heart can belong only to his country.’

‘Well, once your father brokers peace I am going to fight to have the wing rebuilt and the palace returned to its former glory.’

Mother always had grand plans.

‘Sahir,’ she ventured, perhaps attempting a gentler approach with her very self-contained son. ‘I know that love is forbidden for a monarch, but I do believe that a heart is for sharing.’

‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘A king’s heart is divided equally amongst his subjects.’

‘I want you to listen to me.’ Mother put down her refreshments to speak. ‘Just because you are going to be King, that doesn’t mean you have to agree with everything the elders—’

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