Page 53 of Modern Romance November 2024 5-8

The older maid had moved to undo her zip. ‘No!’ Violet had said abruptly, and then shooed them out. Actually, seeing her crestfallen face, Violet had felt dreadful for doing that, but she’d really needed the loo. She’d also filled the pretty basin with water and washed her hands and face, then stared at her reflection.

Through it all she hadn’t cried.

Not once.

Violet never cried.

Well, she had yesterday, and Sahir had wiped away her tears...

She’d trusted him then.

For the first time in her life she’d completely trusted someone.

Never again.

Never, ever...

When she’d returned to her cushion the maids had brought out endless refreshments, but again she had declined, shaking her head and drinking only water.

By now she’d worked out their names. Bedra was the older lady, and Amal seemed to be around Violet’s age.

They both seemed concerned, and now they had unearthed a wooden trunk, holding up some English books.

‘No, thank you,’ she said.

Bedra, the older one, frowned.

‘Laa,’Violet tried.

She knew a very few words of Arabic from her work in the library, but then she remembered one of her clients telling her that simply saying no—laa—could sound abrupt.

She reminded herself that it wasn’t their fault she was here.

It was Sahir’s.

‘Laa, shukran,’Violet declined, more politely, and Bedra gave her a smile.

Then she gestured to Amal to help her carry the trunk into what were to be Violet’s sleeping quarters.

Oh, yes.

Because when a nervous Pria had earlier shown her the Crown Prince’s lavish sleeping area, Violet had loudly demanded an area of her own.

Pria had apologised, and started to cry, and Violet wasn’t proud of causing her tears.

Gosh, she’d really been a rather demanding unexpected guest!

Now she sat bolt upright, her ears strained for any sound, her wary eyes taking in every detail of her luxurious surroundings. From the bells that tinkled softly as she entered an area or left one, to the lavish rugs that dulled her footsteps. The jewelled daggers and swords on display had been noted, as well as the heavy, thick rope that hung over the velvet-draped bed where presumably Sahir slept.

She heard a sound—a low hum, steadier than the erratic wind.

She saw Bedra sit up straight, then abruptly stand. Amal moved quickly too. As the sound drew closer she was lighting lamps and stoking the central fire, as Bedra lit incense and filled two silver goblets with wine.

Then she heard the jangle of bells, and Bedra speaking urgent words she didn’t understand. But her gestures and meaning were clear.

His Highness is here. Stand. Hurry, you must stand.

Never.

---