Beholden to the Throne - By Carol Marinelli Page 0,17

you more notice. Perhaps you could have prepared them.’

‘Now I’ve thought about it, I don’t know how I could have,’ Amy admitted. ‘They’re going to be terrified when the Bedouin take them.’

‘They are kind people,’ Emir said. ‘They will do them no harm.’

But his heart wasn’t in it. He tasted again the fear he had felt when he was a child—could remember his screams as the wizened old man took him. He hated the rules that bound him.

Hated Rakhal.

It was kinder to his soul to look at Amy, to visit another possible option.

‘What happens tomorrow when we get back to the palace?’ Amy asked, unnerved by his scrutiny and desperately trying to think of something to say. ‘Will it be very grand?’

‘There will be a party. My brother Hassan, the second in line, should attend.’

‘Should?’

‘He has a great interest in horses too …’ Emir gave a wry smile. ‘They take up a lot of his time.’

She had heard about Prince Hassan and his wild ways, though she had never met him, just heard the whispers. Of course some things were never discussed, so she stayed silent.

She was surprised when Emir said more. ‘Though his interest in horses is something I do not condone.’

She gave a small shocked laugh at his admission.

‘He needs to grow up,’ Emir said.

‘Maybe he’s happier not.’

‘Perhaps,’ he admitted, and thought perhaps now he understood his brother a little.

He had confronted him many times, to no avail. Emir did not get the thrill his brother found in winning—did not understand why Hassan would roam the globe from casino to casino. Hassan had everything and more a man needed right here in Alzan. Riches aplenty, and any woman of his choosing.

He looked over to Amy. One of her hands was idly patting the sand into a mound. For the first time with a woman Emir was not certain of the outcome, but he glimpsed the thrill of the chase, the anticipation before victory.

He understood Hassan a little better now.

‘King Rakhal will also be attending.’

‘With his wife?’ Amy checked. She had briefly met Natasha, but she remembered who she was speaking about. ‘I meant will Queen Natasha be attending?’

‘No.’ Emir shook his head. ‘She is due to give birth soon, so it is safer that she does not travel. She seems very happy here,’ he pushed gently. ‘At first I am sure it was daunting, but she seems to have taken well to her new role.’

‘Can I ask something?’ Emir was still looking at her, still inviting conversation.

Her question was not the one he was hoping for: it did not appear as if she was envisaging herself for a moment as Queen.

‘Why, if their baby is a girl, can she rule?’

‘Their laws are different,’ Emir said. ‘Do you know that Alzan and Alzirz were once the same country?’

‘Alzanirz?’ Amy nodded.

‘There have always been twins in our royal lineage,’ Emir explained. ‘Many generations ago a ruler of the time had twin sons. They were unexpected, and were not branded, so the people were unsure who the rightful heir was. It was a troubled time for the country and the King sought a solution. It was decided that the land would be divided, that each son would rule his own kingdom. The predictors of the time said that one day they would reunite … but we were both given separate rules. As soon as one rule is broken the country must become one again, the ruler being of the lineage which survived.’

‘It doesn’t seem fair.’ She looked to his dark eyes and blinked, for they were not stern, and instead of chastising her he nodded for her to go on. ‘If a princess can rule there, why not here?’

‘They have another rule that they must abide by,’ Emir explained. ‘In Alzirz the ruler can marry only once. Rakhal’s mother died in childbirth and he was not expected to survive—the prophecy was almost fulfilled.’

‘But he survived?’

Emir nodded. ‘Here …’ He was silent for a moment before continuing. ‘Here the law states that if the ruler’s partner dies he can marry again.’ Still he looked into her eyes. ‘As must I.’

‘Must?’

‘The people are unsettled—especially with an impending birth in Alzirz.’

‘But if you are not ready …’ Amy bit her tongue, knew that to discuss would be pointless.

‘Ready?’ He frowned, for who was she to question him? But then he remembered she came from a land that relied on the fickle formula of attraction. The glimmer of his idea glowed brighter still. The answer