Beholden to the Throne - By Carol Marinelli Page 0,27
time she sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to them, watched them smile in glee as they opened the presents she had wrapped for them. Amy smiled back—but her face froze when she saw Emir standing in the nursery doorway.
His eyes took in the presents, the teddies and the DVDs. He watched as Amy walked over to him, her face white with fury, and for a second he thought she might spit.
‘They have everything, do they?’ Her eyes challenged him. ‘Some party!’
‘My brother is too busy in Dubai with his horses.’
He walked over to the twins and kissed the two little dark heads. He spoke in his language to them for a few moments. ‘I have their present.’
He called the servants to come in and Amy watched as the delighted twins pulled paper off a huge parcel. She bit on her lip when she saw it was a dolls’ house—an exquisite one—built like the palace, with the stairs, the doors, the bedroom.
‘I thought about what you said. How it helped you. I wanted the same for them.’
‘How?’ Even though it seemed like a lifetime ago, it had only been a couple of days. ‘How on earth did you get this done so quickly?’
‘There are some advantages to being King—though right now …’ Emir almost smiled, almost met her eyes but did not ‘… I can’t think of many.’
He stood from where he’d knelt with the twins and still could not look at her. He just cleared his throat and said what he had to—did what should have been done long ago.
‘Fatima will be sharing in the care of the twins from now on,’ Emir said, and Fatima stepped forward.
Not assisting, not helping, Amy noted.
‘She speaks only a little English and she will speak none to the twins: they need to learn our ways now.’
She did not understand what had happened. For as blissful as last night had been she would give it back, would completely delete it, if it had changed things so badly for the girls.
‘Emir …’ She saw Fatima frown at the familiarity. ‘I mean, Your Highness …’
But he didn’t allow her to speak, to question, just walked from the nursery, not turning as the twins started to cry. Amy rushed to them.
‘Leave them,’ Fatima said.
‘They’re upset.’ Amy stood her ground. ‘It’s been a long day for them.’
‘It’s been a long day for their country,’ Fatima responded. ‘It is not just the twins who will mark today—Queen Natasha gave birth to a son at sunrise.’
For a bizarre moment Amy thought of the screams she had heard last night, the cries she had thought might come from Hannah. Yet Natasha had been screaming too. She felt as if the winds were still tricking her, that the desert was always one step ahead, and watched as Fatima picked up the twins and took them to their cots. Fatima turned to go, happy to leave them to cry.
That was why there had been no celebrations, no crowds gathering in the streets. It had been a silent protest from the people—a reminder to their King that he must give them a son. Fatima confirmed it as she switched out the light.
‘Unlike Alzan, the future of Alzirz is assured.’
CHAPTER NINE
‘THEY won’t stay quiet for that length of time unless you are holding them.’
It had been a long morning for Amy. They were practising the formalities for the new Prince’s naming ceremony tomorrow, and as it was Fatima who would be travelling with the King and the Princesses, Amy had been tidying the nursery. The windows were open and she had heard their little protests, their cries to be held by their father and eventually, reluctantly, Emir had asked for Amy to be sent down.
‘Fatima will be the one holding them.’
‘They want you.’
‘They cannot have me,’ Emir said. She caught his eye then and he saw her lips tighten, because, yes, she knew how that felt. ‘I will be in military uniform. I have to salute.’ He stopped explaining then—not just because he’d remembered that he didn’t have to, but because Nakia, who had been begging for his arms, now held her arms out to Amy. They both knew that there would be no problem if it was Amy who was travelling with him.
Not that Emir would admit it.
Not that she wanted to go.
She could not stand to be around him—could not bear to see the man she loved so cold and distant, not just with her but with the babies who craved his love.
‘Can you hold