Page 71 of Modern Romance November 2024 5-8

‘He was hoping for a reaction. I think he thought it would be better for me to be upset at thirty thousand feet rather than on landing. I’ve told you—a royal cannot show emotion. It unsettles the people.’

‘I think having a cold and unfeeling ruler would be more unsettling,’ Violet said. ‘At least that’s how it would seem to me.’

‘The people need to know their rulers won’t fall apart in a crisis. I used to question it, but after my mother died...’

She stared at him, trying to demand with her eyes that he be honest—for she had been, after all.

‘It was a turbulent time for our country,’ Sahir said. ‘My father had to work hard, make decisions that would impact the nation’s future, and he did so unfailingly. I took a month out of school but I barely saw him. He was up at dawn, and would take morning briefings from Aadil in the gardens. I almost failed that year at school. Sometimes I would forget to eat...’

He was silent, remembering it.

‘I managed all my royal duties, but only just. I knew if I got upset then Ibrahim and Jasmine would follow suit. I had to put aside my own guilt.’

He regretted his words immediately, because of course she pounced.

‘Guilt?’

He stood up, ending the conversation. ‘I believe most people feel that way when they lose someone.’

‘But you’re the Crown Prince,’ Violet said. ‘You don’t get to feel.’

His back stiffened. ‘No.’ He turned around. ‘And I don’t get to share.’ He nodded. ‘Goodnight.’

‘Stay.’ She sat still, holding another book. ‘Talk.’

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘Better not.’

He went to his rooms, shut off the fire, stripped and climbed into bed.

He watched the lounge darken.

Then saw Violet’s shadow on the wall.

Politely he closed his eyes as she undressed, for she had clearly not worked out how erotic this space could be.

He opened them again and thankfully saw she was in bed. He could see her reading, her hair still up, and then he watched her turn her head to one side, picking up the howl of a lone Arabian wolf. She got back to reading.

Violet really was inquisitive rather than fearless.

And very sensible to have cut that silken cord.

How he ached to reach for it now...

The wind was soft, like a little whistle or a howl, and yet it was so still in here.

She paused in her reading and heard another wolf howling—or was it two, or three?

The poor Queen, Violet thought, stuck in her businesslike marriage. Because from all she’d read Anousheh hadn’t just adored the sensual poets, but the romantic ones too.

She read a poem about ageing love and silver hair, and found there were tears in her eyes... Only she wasn’t sure if they were for Queen Anousheh or for herself.

She wanted Sahir—more of Sahir—and yet she had warned him in no uncertain terms to stay back.

And she wanted to go riding, to play with the little foal and just explore this incredible place...

Then be sent away.

She got back to the sensual poems, reaching for a drink of water. But the glass was empty and she couldn’t be bothered to fill it.

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