in Rasyn's eyes shocked her. "What about today? I left you alone. Do you know what could have happened to you?"
She'd never seen Rasyn look so... tired. He'd always been so strong. She hadn't imagined he had chinks in his armor.
It would be so easy to throw her arms around him and pour out her support. Kiss him or try to make him laugh. Anything to make him feel better.
But no. She couldn't get close to him. He had his armor—and she had hers.
"I'm an adult," she said. "It was my choice, just like what Imaran did was his."
Heartsore, she went to shower the day's dust from herself.
***
Rasyn cursed himself as he walked the corridor. Even the night air couldn't cool his irritation with himself.
What had possessed him to reveal Imaran's secrets to her? He had even kept the truth from his uncle. She watched him too closely, paid too much attention to him.
It had been a surprising relief to talk about the past he had never discussed with anyone, though, and he trusted her with every cell in his body. She would never betray his confidence. She had a servant's loyalty. Still, he had to be more guarded.
"Your Highness." The voice came from behind him.
Rasyn turned to see a tall man in the robes of the Berber tribes native to the desert of western Abbas. He must be one of their leaders to be in the palace this late. Rasyn greeted him politely.
"My name is Waseem, Your Highness. I have been waiting to speak to you alone," he said. "I will be blunt. We do not support your cousin. If your uncle should pass without identifying his heir, the Sharatin are at your command."
The Sharatin. Rasyn's mind whirled. A large tribe, known for their fighting skills. He was proposing war against Imaran.
"That will not be necessary," he told Waseem.
"Let us hope that it is not." Waseem melted back into the darkness.
Chapter Nine
Rasyn drove down a road half-covered in shifting sand while Libby stared out the side window.
She had no clue how much her life was about to change. In a few hours, she was going to be his wife. Whether she agreed or not.
As distasteful as he found it, deceiving Libby into marrying him was the best option.
It was unfortunate that there wasn't more time. He was confident he would have been able to overcome her doubts and convince her to marry him of her own free will. But there was no time for that now. Last night's encounter with Waseem and Uncle Anwar's rapid decline forced Rasyn's hand. The threat was too great, the danger too close.
It was best for her as well. Prince Hani wouldn't be able to touch her if she was under the protection of a prince of Abbas.
"You are so quiet, love. It's not like you."
Libby gave him a smile, but it disappeared quickly.
When he had told her that she had to stay in Abbas for another couple of days to meet Prince Hani, she'd gone uncharacteristically silent. It had taken all his persuasive powers to convince her. This time, he hadn't been forced to lie. If she didn’t keep the appointment, Prince Hani might take it as a personal insult.
Seeing her deflate like a soccer ball with a leak had left him with a sour taste in his mouth. At least it had reminded him to send a crate of balls to the orphanage she'd mentioned, in Imaran's name. If he could have spared both of them the public display with the prince of Damali, he would have, but there was no escape.
He reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips. "If I could spare you the meeting with Prince Hani, I would. You must trust me when I tell you I will not allow anything to happen to you."
"Coming to Abbas was a bad idea. I should be home looking for a job."
He attempted to convince her one more time. "Stay with me and you will never have to worry about a job again."
"You don't get it," she said. "I'd go nuts without one. Besides, I like serving people."
The marriage agreement in his pocket seemed to pulse, threatening to burn his skin.
For the people of Abbas, Libby was about to do the ultimate service, preventing a war that would cost hundreds of lives.
And if all went to plan, she would never know it.
***
Libby frowned into the close-packed trunk of the Range Rover, grateful to have a task to take her