Page 26 of Her Vow to Be His Desert Queen

It was beautiful.

In fact, the whole palace was beautiful, though she hadn’t had a chance to explore it, not when most of her day since being transported from the airport to the palace had involved being introduced to the various staff members who’d be looking after her and then being shown around the Queens’ wing.

That was beautiful too. It was a series of interconnected, white-tiled rooms with high, arched windows that gave magnificent views out over Al Da’ira’s capital city, the mountains that surrounded it, as well as glimpses into private little courtyards full of fountains and orange trees.

There was a big, white-curtained bed piled high with pillows and a huge bathroom with a shower big enough for five people, as well as a vast bath carved from white marble veined with gold and set on a plinth. The rooms also contained a comfortable sitting room, a library, a small, private swimming pool with a waterfall at one end, and a gym with all the latest fitness machines. The palace staff member who had been assigned to her, a lovely woman in her late forties called Aisha, had also proudly showed her a study with everything she needed to work remotely, including a broadband connection, a desktop computer, and a sleek little laptop.

Everything was provided, including a wardrobe full of clothes and luxurious toiletries.

And tonight, Aisha had informed her, she’d be dining with His Majesty.

Sidonie swallowed, adjusting the neckline of the cocktail gown she was wearing. She’d wanted to stay in the green dress that she’d worn coming off the plane, but the moment she’d settled into her apartments Aisha had directed her to the wardrobe and had brought out the gown the King wanted her to wear for their dinner tonight.

It was in gold silk and floor-length, with a deep vee neckline that plunged between her breasts, almost to her navel, and long, flowing sleeves. The skirts were loose and flowing too. It would have been modest if not for that neckline.

She loved it. Gold wasn’t a colour she had ever imagined wearing, but its rich tones made her skin gleam and her hair seem even redder, and that deep neckline... She wasn’t able to wear a bra with it.

All that was missing, her brain reminded her helpfully, was the little gold necklace he’d given her for her twenty-first, the one she’d thrown away after he’d left her.

But there was no point thinking about that. The necklace was gone, part of the past she’d chosen to leave behind. And really, did she need it?

When she’d stepped out of the bedroom on the plane she’d seen blatant hunger leap in his eyes, and she’d felt fully the power of her sexuality. She’d once dreamed of him staring at her like that and he had, and it had been just as exhilarating, dizzying even, as she’d imagined. She’d wished she’d had more time to work out what she could do with it, but then there had been breakfast and they’d landed, and he’d pulled her into his arms and carried her from the plane.

She hadn’t been entirely happy about that, because he hadn’t warned her it would happen. Then he’d called her out on how much she liked being close to him and she hadn’t been able to deny it.

He’d held her before, back when they’d been friends—that wasn’t unusual. Hugs to greet one another and to say goodbye. Hugs of congratulation or commiseration. Hugs of comfort when the anniversary of her parents’ death came around and she grieved the family she’d lost.

But the way he’d held her as they’d disembarked the plane had been different. He’d felt different. His chest had been broader and harder, his arms powerful and steady, and it hadn’t been anything like those long-ago hugs. The intensity in his eyes as he’d looked down at her had stolen her breath. There had been a triumph of sorts in them, as if she was a prize he’d won, and yes, she’d liked it.

Being close to him had been as intoxicating as it had been in Paris, and she’d found herself staring up at the sharp, stern lines of his beautiful face. Lines that hadn’t been there years ago, she was sure of it. The sight had made something inside her ache.

His expression was so hard, like granite, and all his court with their faces pressed to the tarmac.

‘A king, on the other hand, must be without flaw. He must be more than a man, and so that is what I must be.’

Why did he think that? He’d mentioned his father as an example of flawed humanity, and she knew he was trying not to follow his example, but... Did he really think he had to be more than a man? And was it really for the sake of his people or for his own? As she’d told him, it was such a high standard to hold himself to.

‘Miss Sullivan?’

Sidonie looked up from her contemplation of the fish pool, shoving away the ache that had somehow crept into her heart.

A servant in the black and gold of the palace livery was standing in the doorway to the atrium. He bowed. ‘His Majesty requests the pleasure of your company. You are to follow me, please.’

It wasn’t a request. It was an order. And if she hadn’t been distracted by thinking of Khalil, she might have been annoyed by it. But she was distracted. She couldn’t stop seeing the expression on his face as he’d carried her to the car. It had been so rigid. Then, as she’d gripped his jacket when she’d realised he wasn’t coming with her, a sudden anxiety sitting in her gut, she’d seen that rigidity ripple, the look in his eyes softening almost imperceptibly. Then he’d kissed her hands.

The man you knew isn’t gone. He’s still in there somewhere.

Sidonie’s heart ached a little more as she followed the servant from the Queens’ apartments and into the main palace wing. The marble floors were veined with gold and the walls were tiled in all kinds of patterns and in all kinds of colours, including glittering metallic silver and gold.

Did it matter if her friend was still there? Was that man still important to her? He’d been gone so long, and she’d changed so much. Did she really want to find him again? Connect with him again? After all her heart had suffered? Or was it easier only to deal with the stranger, the King he’d become?

She was only here for two weeks, after all, and shewouldleave at the end of it. And even if she did manage to find the friend she’d loved, what then?

You’d have married him. Youwantedto marry him.

A shiver went through her. It was true, she had. That was why she’d insisted on that marriage promise. But now? She didn’t know. Khalil her friend might still exist in Khalil the King, but did the old Sidonie still exist in her? And if she did, would she want to become her again? Let her heart get broken again?

You can’t. You must protect yourself.

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