Page 99 of Modern Romance November 2024 5-8

‘Any marriage would be void here.’

‘Then I shall be a bitter, lonely ruler like you—save for the times when I am overseas.’

‘What about heirs?’

‘That is a matter for you and the council.’

‘They would never agree. They would demand your banishment.’

‘I shall not go voluntarily—you would have to rescind my titles. Know this, though: you will get to explain why I am overseas. How dare Aadil plant those jewels?’

‘She was caught red-handed,’ the King sneered.

Sahir’s curse told his father what he thought of that.

‘Look...’ the King said, and he opened a file, handed Sahir a sheaf of papers clipped to a photo of Violet on the balcony. ‘Take a look...’

‘I don’t need to.’

‘Of course you do!’

Sahir skimmed through the papers, his throat tightening as he realised how Violet had toned down the horrors of her childhood for him. He now learned that she had been taken from her parents at birth, rehomed over and over, then sent out alone into the world at sixteen.

‘Hardly impressive reading,’ his father said.

‘On the contrary,’ Sahir said. ‘I find it very impressive that, despite all that, Violet is warm and strong.’

‘She didn’t even finish school.’

Sahir put down the file. ‘I believe you yourself said never to mistake education for intelligence.’

‘Her father has been repeatedly jailed. It’s reprehensible!’

‘Yes, both Violet and I have fathers whose behaviour has been reprehensible.’ Sahir came right up to his face. ‘It’s brought us closer.’

‘You are infatuated,’ the King said. ‘You are inlove.’

Sahir drew in a breath.

Hakaam might well be right, he thought. Restraint was required. Because to admit to love would be the death knell for both of them. It would mean that Violet could never be his wife.

‘I’m going to London.’

‘Sahir, please take another look at the photo.’

Angrily he swiped up the file and looked at the image—and then he understood why Hakaam had been pacing, for perhaps this really was a most perilous moment.

‘Look at you, Sahir,’ said the King.

His eyes moved to his own image. He was in the background, standing by the French windows, watching Violet. Her arms were raised...she was soaking in the morning. He barely recognised his own features, the look in his eyes, the soft smile he wore...

His father had known before he had.

‘Love is a poor decision-maker,’ his father said. ‘An Achilles heel—a weakness that can be manipulated. Our people have suffered enough for that. Their king—’

‘I’m aware of what happened, and why the laws are in place. How my mother suffered for them.’

‘What did she say to you?’ He watched his father’s features darken. ‘Your lover is both a thief and a liar.’

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